MindWindow

Some questions came... What is this about? It is about leaving one's country, family and life as known, at age 15. These are memories of the days immediately preceding my departure (as it could be for any one of the thousands of children who left alone), what we went through as a family, and my arrival in this beautiful country. Due to the nature of the posting structure, the order of the days will end up reversed; the first day was posted on 10/29, and all subsequent posts will be added later, but appear before (Huh??) Anyway, you have to go to the bottom of the pile to start at the beginning. DAY TWO; MAY 6, 1962 The next morning I was still in a fog. Then I remembered that it had been only when I heard the word “telegram” that my somewhat baffled brain began to react, and the first thing somewhat coherent muttering that came out of my mouth had been “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?” My mother was crying, my grandfather was waving this yellow piece of paper around and I had been about...

Since this probably will not be read by too many people, I chose it as the venue in which to publish these thoughts. I will add one day at a time and, if anyone out there comes across these lines and likes them and wishes to share some thoughts, please drop a line to . If you don't like what you read, don't write; critics are not welcome... These memories are all too real and still painful. A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A “PEDRO PAN” DAY ONE; May 5, 1962 -“¡Abuelo!! I shouted, -“What are you doing here?” – “Why did you come today instead of Saturday? I was excited to see my grandfather. More than a grandfather, he had truly been my father. My parents had been divorced when I was 2 years old and my mother’s father had been my granddad, my father and also a friend. I lived with him and my grandmother in Cienfuegos, a city on the south-central shore of Cuba for most of my life but, since the remarriage of my mother I went to live in Cruces, a small town nearby; he would usually com...