Coming to America...Today

The Cubans were landing as I came along the beach and I got to be the first American to welcome them to these shores.

The time was 7:36 a.m. I’d just met Tony, the new Park Manager, on his first day at Fort Zachary Taylor. I came around the bathhouse at the concession stand and the sun had just cracked above the horizon. Good mood. Wonderful new day.

And, because I was happy, I was playing my music on my iPhone. Neil Diamond was singing. And I was singing along:

“Everywhere around the world

They’re coming to America.

They’re coming to America.

Got a dream to take them there

They’re coming to America

Every time that flag’s unfurled

They’re coming to America.

Got a dream to take them there

They’re coming to America

Got a dream they’ve come to share

They’re coming to America

Today. Today. Today. Today. Today.

And there they were. Fifteen young Cubans had just leaped from their homemade boat into the surf off our swimming beach, under the coconut palms. They were almost delirious with excitement.  

They hugged each other and screamed “Libre. Libre” to me as I got on my walkie-talkie to call the administration. “I have 15 Cubans who just landed on our beach. I’m heading toward them,” I told Jayne, the assistant park manager.

I walked over to the Cubans and shook their hands, smiling and saying, “Welcome to America.” They were cold and wet for the morning temperature was only 63. But they all looked healthy. And they were VERY happy. I so wished I had either of my old buddies, Jose Azel or Celia McTague Pomerantz with me to help me communicate. Jose was born in Cuba and Celia has a Puerto Rican heart of gold.

The park staff arrived by then and we all stood around, handing out our supply of shop towels. Those are the beach towels we store after visitors leave them on the beach at the end of their day.

One of the Cubans opened his wallet and began handing me 10, 20 and 50 peso bills. He pointed to the pictures on the different denominations and said, “Jose Marti” and “Maximo Gomez” and “Antonio Maceo” and “Fidel Castro” on the 20 peso bill. I passed the money back but he pushed it on me again. Then they began to tear the bills into little pieces, indicating they were worthless.

The Key West Police soon were on the scene and they were exceedingly kind to the young people. They asked in Spanish if they were hurt, hungry or sick. But no one was. I learned later, however, three of the girls were taken to hospital because they had diesel fuel spilled on their bodies.

One young girl, maybe 18 or 19, carried a wooden bowl. I asked to look inside and she removed the lid. Inside were dry beans and beads. A Key West policeman told me it was probably Santeria, the Haitian-Cuban-West African animist religion.

The police suggested they move over to the bathhouse so they’d be out of the wind so this is where I left them.

I spent the rest of my shift explaining the latest landing to our park visitors.  The boat was better built than last week’s version, which was basically Styrofoam with a couple of areas of sheet metal. It also had a diesel engine inside, along with jugs of fuel and water. We found hypodermic needles and bags of saline solution in addition to Dramamine and some other anti-nausea pills aboard the boat.  All the visitors were in awe that these young people risked all to make the 90-mile voyage to our version of freedom.

All in all, this was a very good day to be at the park.

Refugees gleefully push Cuban pesos on me because I welcomed them ashore.