Mes de la Herencia Hispana

Sharing our Stories - Page 3

Where I Came From
This is my story or, at least, the beginning of my story:

My family arrived in the United States in July 1960, a year-and-a-half after Fidel Castro had taken power in Cuba. When we left, we left everything behind, except the clothing my parents carried in two pieces of luggage. And, by the time we left, virtually all of my parents’ friends had turned against them, berating them as “traitors to the Revolution.” (Later, most of these sought to leave also, but by then it was too late.)

I was five years old.

I am a “child of the Cuban Revolution.” That shearing experience and uprooting for my family has marked my life and defined who I am. Everything my family had known before contrasted sharply with all my family came to know on the day we landed in the U.S. The past broke radically from the future.

Fortunately for my brother Juanito and myself, both my parents had recognized Fidel for what he was from the start, a communist in sheep’s clothing with a driving intent to transform Cuba into a communist fiefdom and beachhead in the western hemisphere. Forty-five years later, without a single democratic affirmation via elections in the interim, Fidel remains in power. He has ruthlessly and brutally controlled the country, is directly responsible for the death of thousands, and has had—since the death of Kim Il Sung in 1994—the dubious distinction of being the longest-reigning unelected dictator in the world.

In Cuba, we lived on an American-owned sugar plantation. The American family who owned the facility had been there for over a hundred years at the time of its expropriation. They were dedicated to the enterprise and to welfare of their staff and their staff’s families, and they helped many of them, ourselves included, in getting started once we landed in the States.

For my brother and myself, the change to the U.S. was a huge adventure. At our young ages, we hadn’t a clue as to what was taking place. All we knew was that within the span of a few months, we had changed from being absolutely as far in the rural country as possible, among the sugar cane, hummingbirds and cattle, to midtown Manhattan, settling later in Brooklyn. We went from a large and airy country house to a [nice] one bedroom apartment where my brother and I slept in the living room (later joined there also for a while by my cousin, who got out solo a couple of years later). For us, an adventure; for my parents, it was, of course, the ordeal of their lives. (Juanito and I never noticed that.)

My parents had been alert to the situation as it was developing in Cuba. They recognized Castro for what he was from the very beginning, a Marxist-Leninist intent on total control. My father always said that once it was clear Fidel would prevail, their decision to uproot was actually very easy. They had no choice. Despite the clamor and shrillness of their friends and professional colleagues, and the massively pro-Castro persuasion of the media, both in the U.S. and in Cuba, they knew what was coming, and they knew that it represented the end of our freedom. This was not acceptable. So, as Dad used to say, there really was no choice. For the future of their sons and for the preservation of our individual liberties, we came to America.

America has opened its doors to us and given us every opportunity. Through education, motivation and a great deal of hard work, we have moved forward and have lived the American dream, a dream grounded in liberty, tolerance and equality of opportunity. In America, if you apply yourself, you can achieve to the best of your abilities. In that regard, my life-defining experience also taught me (as did my folks) that an investment in one’s education always has a return. For, no matter what else “they” can do to you, an education you carry with you even if you have to leave everything else behind.

Has all been easy and upward? Well, not exactly. Some folks, naturally, did not understand us. And, I don’t mean this in a linguistic sense. Rather, some die-hards, or people from a smaller world, may have seen us as too alien. (We were sort of alien, I guess.) Fortunately, I believe the reluctance of “the some” to accept those different from themselves is less and less visible in America today. America has grown up a lot in the past forty years or so. (I did have a first-grade teacher who, I am convinced, promoted me to the second grade because she didn’t know what else to do with me—despite the fact that I still didn’t speak English. I like to think my subsequent promotions have not been due to such a predicament!) But, all in all, as my mother taught us, in America there are so many, many opportunities, that it is important always to look forward and remain optimistic. I honestly see those who still carry prejudices as more burdened by the weight of their biases than are the targets of their prejudice.

I am leaving out the details, but America has afforded me every opportunity to succeed and, in the main, has never questioned from where I came. Through hard work and the sacrifices of my parents, I have had the privilege of attending two of America’s best universities, achieved the career preparation I sought, remained flexible in its application, learned always to look at the next opportunity and leave past obstructions behind, and am today privileged to serve with you at this finest collective effort we know as Norfolk Southern. Thank you for the opportunity to share these thoughts.

Rob Martínez
Vice president business development
Norfolk

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