February 28, 1962 | García Media

This is the weekend edition of TheMarioBlog and will be updated as needed. The next blog post is Monday, March 2. Reporting from Hamburg, Germany.

I am that boy in the suit, ready to board a Pan Am flight from Havana to Miami. How nice of my Dad to take that photo, my shoes touching Cuban land for the first time. It’s been 58 years, and I have never returned.

That short flight was the start of a major journey for me. I woke up February 28, 1962 in my home in Havana, and my mother brought me my “cafe con leche” to bed, just like any other day.

By mid afternoon that day I had added a new description to my life’s narrative: refugee.

It is like a second birthday for me. Days that mark you and define you and fill the pages of your life’s book, just like that.

I recalled how the rest of that day went in a memoir that I keep writing from time to time.

Here is an excerpt :

Although I don’t consider myself a “refugee” and always disliked that term even when I had just arrived in the US and that was my immigration status, I am aware of the significance that my becoming a refugee continues to have on many of the decisions I make, what I tell my children, how I live my life, my approach to money, and the lessons I learned at the age of 14: don’t attach yourself to anything physical, because it is here today and gone tomorrow. You also learn that nothing is ever as good or as bad as it seems.
This is why I count February 28, 1962 as my second birthday.
A new Mario was forced to be born that day.

Read all about it here:

40 Years/40 Lessons (2)–Refugee.

Thankful to be an American

I thank my parents for having the vision to send me to the US, even if it meant separation for a while until they joined me here. Their decision made the difference between the life I have led and the one I would have had if I stayed in Cuba.

I can’t imagine my life in any other place today. I have worked and traveled in 121 countries to date. I almost feel like kissing the ground every time I land back in the United States.

I am forever grateful for what happened to me February 28, 1962. I raise a glass of bubbly for the privilege of calling myself an American, thankful for my adopted country that afforded me the American Dream. I am blessed that my children and grandchildren were born here.

Indeed, a second birthday celebration.

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