From the Editor

“I am now going to be able to vote!”

When I first asked Marcial, how he felt about becoming an American citizen, he warmly smiled and said: Great!  I am now going to be able to vote!  It was, of course, the perfect answer.

Yesterday, we had the privilege of witnessing what for some is one of the most important rights of passage.  We were invited to attend the ceremony where our dear friend Marcial, and by extension his son, who is a minor, became citizens of the United States of America – his wife and daughter will soon join Marcial and his son, as Americans.

Kate and I arrived early, as is my custom.  We stood outside, watching airplanes landing and departing, from Tamiami Airport; and marveling at the perfect rows of Royal Cuban Palms, standing at attention, as we waited for Marcial to arrive.  There were a few dark clouds scattered about, in the slightly overcast Miami day; nevertheless, there was joy in the air.  People arrived alone and in groups, some dressed in their Sunday best, others looked more prepared for the celebrations to follow – from formal wear to beach wear – very South Florida.  Marcial arrived in the perfect suit, of course.

As the parking lot began to fill up, I told Kate that we should save Marcial a parking space.  It was to me an innocuous idea.  Oddly, others did not quite understand our refusal to let go of the space, but we stood our ground and he arrived, on time.

We had to go through a metal detector and deal with what have sadly become customary security measures.  My purse was flagged for further inspection; I had a metal Uncle Sam which seemed to confound the guard, at least momentarily.  Kate and I were directed to a waiting room with all of the other families and friends who had come to witness this moment; Marcial went off to deal with the last of his paper work, and to surrender his “green card” that identification card which all legal aliens are given, by the United States government, as proof of their right to be here.

As we waited, Kate and I reflected on how much Marcial and his family means to us, and how lovely that we had been invited to share in the days activities; we also thought about what it meant to become a citizen of another nation.  What would we do if we were in Marcial’s shoes?  I could not help but comment that my Father had been unable or unwilling, depending on whom you ask, to surrender his Cuban citizenship.  But that was a different generation, a generation which all believed that any day Castro would fall, and everyone would be able to go back “home”.

There is an old PBS show from the 1970’s, called ¿Qué Pasa USA? this was the first bilingual situation comedy.  The show explores the trials and tribulations of the Peña family, Cuban immigrants, as they try to adapt to America and still retain their Cuban identity.  The series was shot in Miami and definitely captures the flavor of the Cuban-American migration experience, as viewed through three generations of one family.

Though mostly comedic, the show did address the universality of how difficult it can be to put down roots in a new place, while still longing for the land where you were born.  In one episode, the family is addressing clearing out the clutter, when an old bottle of Champagne comes into play.  The bottle was purchased by the patriarch, of the family, shortly after his arrival in America.  He has been saving the bottle to celebrate the day that he and his family will no longer be political refugees, living in exile.  This was the bottle of Champagne which he was going to use to toast Castro’s demise; but time is passing, his children are becoming Americans, and Castro is not leaving – what does one do with the Champagne?

If he stops holding on to the Champagne is he somehow betraying the hope of returning to Cuba and his old life?  Or is he simply coming to terms with the new life which he and his family have made?  It is not easy to hold on to two conflicting dreams, at the same time; longing for the past and what was and might have been, verses living in the moment and embracing what is and what will be.

Before too long, we were ushered into a large and very crowded room with a prominent American Flag and two monitors.  We were seated a couple of rows back from Marcial, who had been reading the material he had been given, in his goodie bag.  The ceremony began with the National Anthem, which was broadcast over the monitors, while patriotic images flashed by.  Kate, the man to my right, and I were one of the only people actually singing the rather complex version of our anthem.

After a few words of welcome, another gentleman was introduced who began to recite the 32 countries, which the 175 immigrants represented.  They were told to stand, as their country of origin was called, in alphabetical order.  Kate prepared to take Marcial’s picture, when Cuba was called, but it was not – we looked at each other, and I decided that instead of simply calling Cuba, they would be calling the Republic of Cuba, but the “r’s” came and went.   After Zimbabwe, Columbia with some 40 plus people was called, and then finally Cuba with 57 people – well actually 58.  Marcial and his family had immigrated to Canada from Cuba, and from Canada to the United States.  When Canada was called, with one person, no one stood.  I remember looking around and wondering who the Canadian might be; well it was of course Marcial, who did not stand for Canada, as he did not recognize Canada as his country or origin.  It had been an honest mistake, he had certainly not meant to be disrespectful to the Canadians; it was just that he was from Cuba – even if uncounted on this day.

Once everyone was standing, the oath of citizenship was given.  The 175 people raised their right hands and line by line repeated the words, as the proctor recited them.  I reflected on the power of words.  By simply reciting a few lines of words, the room had gone from our salad bowl to our melting pot – they had entered as citizens of the world, but would all be leaving as citizens of America, simply because of words.  The Pledge of Allegiance was then recited, lead by a new citizen; and then the new Americans were given their citizenship certificates and a kindly lecture on responsibility and obligation.  I do not know how long the ceremony lasted; but I do know that in those moments that lead up to us being dismissed, after several rounds of “I’m Proud to be an American,” change happened without a single act or threat of aggression.

After a few more photographs, as we began to exit the large room, Marcial removed one of the books from his goodie bag.  He commented that the bag contained great things like the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.  I swelled with pride, as I heard him utter those words, he is the perfect American, I thought, he knows exactly what matters.  He continued speaking, removing another book, The Citizen’s Almanac, from the bag.  Pointing out, that Cuban singer, Celia Cruz, was the last person listed in the “Prominent Foreign-Born Americans” section.  He was, and is in good company.

Marcial and I continued talking, as Kate disappeared.  Looking at his book, I wondered how I might get a copy of it, I did not say a word, but somehow dear Kate figured I would want the book.  She returned several minutes later with the entire bag – so I too now have a souvenir flag, to remember this day, and copies of those wonderful words which have given us all liberty – the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America.

As we exited the building, there were people standing around outside, with voter registration forms.  Marcial willingly filled in the form, which would allow him to exercise one of the rights and responsibilities of citizenship.  It was a perfect moment.

Later that evening, we gathered together with the rest of his family to share an Argentine dinner.  As the day and night were winding down, after having spoken of all the things which you speak of when catching up with life, and recounting the days activities, our conversation came back to how Marcial felt.  I think perhaps he was weary of our wondering of his feelings; but always a gentleman, he let himself be engaged.

So I asked again, how do you feel?  He was still happy, and I think de did not understand my dissatisfaction with his answer.  Are you not nostalgic?  Does it not make you sad in some way?  He was happy!  Finally, Kate said she could not imagine giving up her American citizenship.   Ah, of course not, he responded, you are happy.  You live in a country that has not tormented you.

Yes, it really was that simple.  Marcial did not lose anything that day, he was not renouncing his country of birth, his culture, or his history; he was however, rejecting the limits and anguish which communism had brought to Cuba and her children.  He was choosing a new life for himself and his family, in the land of opportunity, where the only limits were self imposed.

We said our goodbyes, and as we drove home, Kate and I reflected, once again, on how truly blessed and honored we are to know such fine people.  Welcome to America Marcial!  That is all for now.

Tags: Vote!

This entry was posted on May 5, 2010 at 4:23 pm and is filed under From the Editor. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.