Non Omnis Moriar

NON

OMNIS MORIAR a Brief MeMOir

OrlandO a. Mastrapa

NON

OMNIS MORIAR OrlandO a. Mastrapa

a Brief MeMOir

Non Omnis Moriar (Not all of me will die) Quintus Horatius Flaccus Horace, ancient Roman poet

Caminante son tus huellas El camino nada mรกs; caminante no hay camino se hace camino al andar.

Al andar se hace camino y al volver la vista atrรกs se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar.

Caminante, no hay camino sino estelas sobre el mar.

Traveller, the path is your tracks And nothing more.

Traveller, there is no path The path is made by walking.

By walking you make a path And turning, you look back At a way you will never tread again Traveller, there is no road Only wakes in the sea.

Antonio Machado

Table of Contents part One n

n

The Age of Innocence, 11

part twO

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n

Explorations and Discoveries, 17

part three n

n

Running the Race, 35

part fOur n

n

Changes, Past and Future, 45

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part five

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Experiencing Good and Evil, 54

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part six n

Beginning Again, 64

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part seven n

Rewards of the Golden Age, 77

A Brief MeMoir orlAndo A. MAstrApA Dedicated to my children and grandchildren who will transmit their origins to coming generations.

the Age

of innocence (Childhood)

L

ife is a gift of surprises imparted by God. When my mother Carmen Amado, was very young her father, Francisco Amado, leased a farm from a Spanish countess. This farm was located next to Manuel Mastrapa’s Colonia España. My father Antonio Mastrapa, one of Manuel Mastrapa’s children, was 20 years old when he attended a party and noticed Carmen Amado, a very pretty girl. After becoming acquainted and getting to know each other better, they fell in love and it wasn’t long before Antonio visited her parents and asked for her hand in marriage.

Antonio and Carmen were married on September, 1927, and established their home in Colonia Mastrapa. The following year their first child, Mirta del Carmen, was born on November 12, 1928. A second daughter came next, Gladys Berta. When Gladys was only 13 months old, she suddenly sickened and died. In their grief my parents received the visit of several students from the Colegio Adventista in nearby Bartle. They regularly came to offer comfort and hope. They read the Bible and prayed with them.

As my parents shared their heartbreak, the students shared their

12 n nOn OMnis MOriar faith. My parents felt comforted and became deeply interested in the students’ faith. Soon they gave their heart to the Lord and were baptized into the Seventh-day Adventist Church. The students continued to give Bible studies in the home of my grandfather, Papå Manolo (Manuel Mastrapa). In the end, 7 of his 15 children and their families became Seventh-day Adventists. Furthermore, 8 of the 10 Amado siblings and several other families became Seventh-day Adventists.

By the time my brother Misael was born on December 7, 1934, all my immediate family was already Seventh-day Adventist. I

Las Tunas, Cuba The history of this province is quite colourful, or so legend would have you believe. The story goes that , in 1519, a Spaniard by the name of Alonso de Ojeda lost his ship went down, Alonso salvaged a statue of the Virgin Mary and, on making land, credited her with aiding him in his miraculous escape from certain death.

As he made his way across the land he vowed to offer the statue to the first village he came across, and on reaching the Indian village of Cueyba, he gave it to the local chief, instructing him to build a church in honour of her divinity.

The capital of the province is the city of the same name which lies 662 km east of Havana.

The city, originally named Las Tunas was, in 1869, renamed Victoria de las Tunas, a title given it by its Spanish governor to commemorate a colonial victory over the Cubans. The name reverted to plain Las Tunas in 1895, following the battle in which the Cubans finally took back the city.

These days Las Tunas is a centre for trade in the production of sugar and chemicals.

13 n a Brief MeMOir was born November 30, 1936, in the Colonia Mastrapa, Barrio Oriente, Municipio de Las Tunas, Oriente, Cuba. I was the baby of the family for 6 years until Migdalia arrived on September 21, 1943, and dethroned me. I must have been a good boy for I do not remember any mischief.

As a Seventh-day Adventist I received the Christian values and education that my parents wanted for us. My childhood memories are very happy. I grew surrounded by a large family from my father and my mother’s side. I enjoyed a clean and healthy environment in a beautiful countryside with no pollution.

I spent my days playing with my cousins, climbing trees, eating all kinds of tropical fruits: oranges, mangoes, pineapple, melons, papaya, and drinking coconut water and my favorite, cane juice.

Every Sunday we would visit my grandparents, either my mother’s parents (the Amado family), or my father’s parents (the Mastrapa family). I enjoyed visiting my grandparents Amado’s farm at La Dichosa. There was a river by their farm where we would play and swim, and many cousins with whom to play and climb fruit trees and eat delicious mangoes and guavas. Colonia España was basically a a dairy and cattle ranch. I enjoyed watching the cattle being corralled and branded. Later I was fascinated as the cows were milked. Every New Year’s Day, the whole Mastrapa clan would travel to Colonia España to celebrate my grandfather Manuel’s saint day. More than one hundred persons would come to eat, and bring their special greetings to Papa Manolo. With 15 children, their spouses, children and other in-laws, we spent the day renewing bonds, laughing and playing with all our cousins.

At 5 years old I started school. The classroom was the dining room in my uncle Lole’s (Heliodoro Mastrapa) house. Around the dining table were my cousins and brother: Eddy, Erio, Joel, Her, Misael, Ada, Iris and I. The teacher was a young lady from Victoria de Las Tunas, Elda Rodríguez. Miss Rodríguez enjoyed teaching,

I was born in a Seventhday Adventist family and received the Christian values and education that my parents wanted for us. My childhood memories are very happy. I grew surrounded by a large family from my father and my mother’s side.

16 n nOn OMnis MOriar and was warm and friendly. Furthermore, she was romantically involved with my older cousin Héctor. Often uncle Lole would come in and ask us to read the words in our primer. He would then make a play of words and make us all laugh. Unfortunately Miss Rodríguez romance ended and so too soon our classes ended also. However, she taught me the alphabet and how to read simple words.

My father and uncles saw the need of a Christian education for their children. My grandfather, Manuel Mastrapa, had donated the land to build a public school at the crossing of Mastrapa and El Camino Real. More than 100 children attended, and the teacher was Carmen, wife of my Uncle Geño (Eugenio Mastrapa).

Nevertheless the Adventist parents wanted their children to receive an education with the Church’s values and principles. So they founded the Mastrapa Church School, where I studied the first eight grades of school. We had good teachers such as Sara Ruiz, Samuel Ávila, Enrique Maury, Tranquilino Bejerano, Isabel Guevara and María Eumelia Echegarra.

One of my favorite schoolteachers was Sara Ruiz. She would play baseball with us during recess. She also had a beautiful handwriting. I would practice and try to imitate her calligraphy. One time our school was invited to join in a picnic with the Adventist School of Victoria de las Tunas. We had such a good time that Ms. Ruiz and her students missed the bus back to Mastrapa. However, the church members were very hospitable and took us in for the night. My family members and I stayed with a nurse who was a friend of the family, Rosarito Villalón. Before bedtime she made us sandwiches and for dessert she gave us fresh cut pineapple. After supper she asked, “Boys, did you have enough?”

My 6 year old cousin, Ubaldo, answered, “Well, I felt almost full after the pineapple.”

We all looked at each other and held our breath to stop from laughing. And so the story was repeated for the amusement of many generations.

Seventh and eighth grades were very irregular with changes in teachers. During the summer of 1953, I took a preparatory course in the Colegio Victoria de Las Tunas. At the end of the summer my cousin Omar and I took the official government entrance exam for ninth grade, or high school. We both passed and with that certificate I went to the Colegio de Las Antillas (C.A.), in Santa Clara, for the 1953-1954 school year. I was 16 years old. Even though I did not realize it at the time, my life in Colonia Mastrapa was over.

18 n nOn OMnis MOriar

explorAtions

And (Youth)

D

discoveries

uring my first semester in C.A. I was a community student and lived in what everybody called the “Campamento”—a series of dwellings built by the school mainly for married student housing within walking distance to the school—where my aunt Dulce had rented a relatively large apartment, and she agreed to board Misael and I, Omar, and Olivia, plus her three children, Denisa, Addys and Arturito. Dulce had married Arturo Mastrapa, my father’s and her first cousin. Arturo had died recently and Dulce had moved to the area to place her children at the school.

The experiment did not work and by the second semester we went to the dorm. There I belonged to a much larger family. The boys’ dean was Rufino Vázquez. He assigned me to Room 19 along with my brother Misael and Samuel González as roommates. Misael and Omar were to be my roommates during the next three years.

The ninth grade was made up of a very special group of students.

I clearly remember Paulino Rodríguez, Eliezer Barreiro, Arnoldo Vázquez, Daysee González, Omar Mastrapa, Addys Mastrapa, Denisa Mastrapa, Ruby Tamayo, Ana Luisa López, Carlos Capote,

19 n a Brief MeMOir Moraima Sánchez, and others. We were 25 students. It was a youthful class full of life and good humor, and for the professors—I now imagine—full of concern.

In my second year of high school, Dagoberto (Dago) Castro joined our class. He was a work-study student and had had to work a full year to pay the tuition of his previous year, so he was one year behind. Dago became my best friend for the rest of his life. He was one of a small circle of distinguished classmates that chose to enroll in the Instituto de Segunda Enseñanza in Santa Clara. This was called “the incorporated program.” Those completing the incorporated program would be accepted into any university in Cuba. The professors of the Instituto would test and grad our exams, and would often question us on areas that had not even been covered in the curriculum at C.A. That is why the degree obtained through this program was considered to be of a higher level than the one obtained by the majority of the students at C.A. who opted not to follow this program, but just follow the U.S. model of four years of high school. In those years the official Cuban Bachelor’s Degree consisted of four years of general studies and a fifth year of specialized courses in preparation for entrance to the university. There were two options for the fifth year: sciences or humanities.

Of the 25 students that registered in ninth grade at C.A., only three followed the incorporated program: Daysee González, Dago Castro and I. Colegio de Las Antillas offered the science classes, so Daysee and Dago enrolled at C.A. and chose the sciences option. I wanted to study both, so I requested permission to attend the Instituto in Santa Clara. I registered for sciences in the morning and for humanities in the afternoon. I was the only C.A. student there. I did not know any of my classmates, it was a completely different environment from C.A. It was September, 1957, and the revolutionary movement of July 26, had infiltrated the students

20 n nOn OMnis MOriar

We were 25 students. It was a youthful class full of life and good humor, and for the professors—I now imagine—full of concern.

21 n a Brief MeMOir The ninth grade was made up of a very special group of students. I clearly remember Paulino Rodríguez, Eliezer Barreiro, Arnoldo Vázquez, Daysee González, Omar Mastrapa, Addys Mastrapa, Denisa Mastrapa, Ruby Tamayo, Ana Luisa López, Carlos Capote, Moraima Sánchez, and others.

22 n nOn OMnis MOriar of the Instituto, so there were frequent threats of bombs, and the buildings had to be evacuated. After two months of classes the administration suspended the school year indefinitely. So I returned home and did not think anymore about studying.

On May, 1958, I received a letter from a classmate at the Instituto. He informed me that the Instituto had decided to offer special final examinations in June to all interested students— the term used was “extraordinary examinations,” and the grade obtained during these tests qualified as your final grade. I did not have much time to prepare to take a test for each of the five classes that I had attended during the two months the school had been opened that year. Nevertheless, I decided to quickly return to Colegio de las Antillas and prepare for these examinations. I had only one week to prepare for each class. At the end of each week I would take the final exam. I studied and crammed and, at the end of the month, I had passed all my classes, thanks to God. In fact, I had the highest grade of the group in “History of the Americas.”

With God’s help I had finished my secondary education in humanities. It made me feel intellectually secure every time I successfully passed an examination at the Instituto.

Thinking back, these were years of great happiness and satisfaction, which I cherish as some of the best years of my life.

I made lasting friendships and enjoyed several ephemeral and platonic romances.

After graduation from the Instituto, the Vice-principal of C.A., Professor Vicente Rodríguez, invited me to teach some of his classes: Ancient History, Cuban History, Cuban Geography, and two Spanish classes. This was a major challenge, but it gave me an opportunity that I did not want to miss. I also decided to continue further studies in Accounting at C.A. This time I would be a college student and also a teacher. My time as teacher/student was an experience that marked my life and decided my career for

23 n a Brief MeMOir

The Cuban Revolution well. Frank País, whom Castro had left in charge while in exile, began to attack the Batista government in various ways.

Anti-Batista students, though not associated with the Castro-led group of rebels, unsuccesfully led an armed assault on the Presidential Palace.

On May 24, 1958, Batista launch Operación Verano. With seventeen battalions, tanks, planes, and ships, they planned to enter the Sierra Maestra and The Cuban Revolution of 1959 began with the failed attack on the Moncada Barracks, and ended in triumph with the ousting of dictator Fulgencio Batista.

After a tremendous failure at Moncada, nearly all of the rebels were killed or captured. At his trial, Fidel Castro gave his famous speech, History Will Absolve Me, and was pardoned after only two years.

When released, he was forced into exile for his safety. In Mexico, he trained an army which he prepared for a guerilla war against Batista.

On December 2, 1956, Castro and 82 others aboard the Granma landed in Cuba. Their numbers were quickly reduced by Batista’s soldiers, but most of the important leaders made their way into the Sierra Maestra mountains.

The rebel forces began to rely on the peasants for support. Batista took to ruthlessly attacking pro-Castro towns, which only stirred up more support for the rebel leader.

A movement in the cities began as

force a showdown with Castro’s rebels.

Though greatly outnumbered, the rebels repeatedly inflicted heavy casualties on the army and drove them back.

Columns commanded by Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, Raúl Castro, Camilo Cienfuegos, and others, took on army units many times their size. Batista’s army was unprepared for the fighting conditions and the guerilla style of warfare; consequently, desertion and surrender were commonplace among the dictator’s forces.

Eventually, Batista decided the situation was hopeless. His generals had arrived at the same conclusion, and were glad when Batista decided to give up the fight. Batista fled to Spain, by then having amassed a fortune of $300 million through bribery and embezzlement.

Santa Clara was taken by Guevara’s army, who then turned towards Havana.

Santiago was surrendered without a fight.

The forts in Havana also surrendered, and Castro’s forces occupied the city, bringing their miliary victory to a close.

24 n nOn OMnis MOriar

Thinking back, those were years of great happiness and satisfaction, which I cherish as some of the best years of my life. I made lasting friendships and enjoyed several ephemeral and platonic romances.

25 n a Brief MeMOir

After graduation the Vice-principal invited me to teach some of his classes.This was a major challenge, but it gave me an opportunity that I did not want to miss. I also decided to continue further studies in Accounting at C.A. This time I would be a college student and also a teacher. My time as teacher/ student was an experience that marked my life and decided my career for the next 43 years.

26 n nOn OMnis MOriar the next 43 years.

The school year 1958-59 was very significant in the life of the school community. By the end of 1958, the people of the island of Cuba were longing for drastic changes in politics and society.

The revolutionary movement was advancing rapidly from the East, where it began, towards the West of the island. In the process the bridges led to the provinces of Camagüey and Oriente had been destroyed and the roads were impassable. All the students from these provinces were unable to go home for the Christmas holidays. However, we did not miss any excitement.

The Argentinian physician, turned guerrilla fighter, Ernesto (Ché) Guevara—known to everyone as “el Ché”—had opened a new battlefront in the mountains of Escambray, in the province of Las Villas. His objective was to seize the city of Santa Clara.

During the last week of 1958, his group of guerrillas arrived at the Universidad Central Marta Abreu, which was located exactly in front of Colegio de las Antillas. In a matter of a few hours there were hundreds of guerrilla preparing for what would become the last battle of the Revolution. Suddenly the environment around C.A. was transformed. We were now in rebel territory. The guerrillas came to eat at our dining hall. There was a sense of mutual cooperation between the soldiers, the students, and administrators.

On December 31, while I was eating with several guerrillas in the cafeteria, they invited me to go with them to a nearby farm where they raised chickens and sold eggs. One of the students agreed to go ask the school President, Dr. Walton Brown, permission to go with the group. As soon as he returned we piled into a truck and a Jeep. Accompanying the guerillas, the group of students comprised of Obed Amado, Rafael Curbelo, Héctor Torres, Eliezer Pérez and I. We never arrived at the farm. As soon as we left the school and were on the highway towards Camajuaní, a government airplane sighted us and signaled a bomber to attack

27 n a Brief MeMOir us. The soldiers ordered everyone out and down into the ditch on the side of the road. We felt like our adventure had suddenly become a nightmare.

As the bomber flew away, we clambered back into the truck and continued on. As we crossed the bridge over the Ochoa River, we heard the sound of the bomber coming back. We jumped off and ran towards a nearby farmhouse, where we cowered under the eaves. The airplane blasted a stream of fire and flew on to Santa Clara. Rafael Curbelo decided to walk back to school, while the rest of us stayed with the soldiers. Again we climbed aboard and continued on. But after only a few yards we saw the government plane returning, followed by the bomber. We jumped into the bushes. For the first time in my life I heard the whistle of bullets and the explosion of bombs. I thought of our school as we waited for the danger to pass.

By late afternoon we noticed that the bombing had stopped.

As we made our way back to the truck and the Jeep, we could see the marks of the bullets and bombs. A farmwife came out of her home to tell us, “I thought you were all dead.” Only God had protected us. No one was hurt. Someone had lost a shoe, and others had clothes torn by the brambles where they had sought refuge. That night of December 31, 1958, President Batista fled to the Dominican Republic. Another chapter had closed in the history of my country.

New Year’s Eve, 1959, was a momentous occasion for most Cubans. The Cuban people were overjoyed and jubilant. We were swept up in the maelstrom of events. Most of us were delighted and celebrated the fall of the dictator. With a group of C.A. students I went to see the armored train that Batista had sent with hundreds of soldiers to defend the city of Santa Clara. However, the train tracks had been blasted and the revolutionary rebels had triumphed. The city was full of rebels and people celebrating. One of the bombs

28 n nOn OMnis MOriar

The first few days of January, 1959, brought a convoy with Fidel Castro and his guerrillas from Oriente. That was the first time I saw and heard the man that everyone thought had become the liberator of his people.

29 n a Brief MeMOir

When I returned to C.A. Misael and Dago told me, “The girl meant for you has arrived from Puerto Rico. She’s the oldest daughter of Professor Carballal.”

30 n nOn OMnis MOriar had fallen just outside the entrance to the Colegio de Las Antillas.

Otherwise the school remained intact.

The first few days of January, 1959, brought a convoy with Fidel Castro and his guerrillas from Oriente. That was the first time I saw and heard the man that everyone thought had become the liberator of his people. Much later the school’s chorale was invited to sing in La Habana. We visited the Fort of La Cabaña where during the first few months of the revolution, hundreds and maybe thousands of persons were shot and killed.

I participated in two other significant events as a member of the school’s chorale. The first was during the inauguration of the library at Universidad Central. The president of the university had invited Dr. Brown and the chorale to be part of the program where Fidel Castro would be the featured speaker. I shook hands with Fidel, and noted that his hand was too soft to have ever done any manual labor. The second occasion was at a fundraiser for the C.A. Center to Martí, at the largest theatre in Santa Clara, The Cloris. The main speaker was el Ché Guevara. He arrived late and seemed cold and aloof. The until then seemingly friendly relations were drastically transformed when the school was taken over by the government. They closed the school in 1967, and gave it to Universidad Central. It was never to be used as a center of learning ever again.

I spent the summer of 1960 with my parents in the Mastrapa sugar cane plantation. When I returned to C.A. Misael and Dago told me, “The girl meant for you has arrived from Puerto Rico.

She’s the oldest daughter of Professor Carballal.” Throughout the day I tried to find her. More than 20 students had arrived from Puerto Rico and I saw new faces everywhere. On Friday evening, during the vespers program—called Consecration Service—, I arrived early and kept and eye on all the girls to see if I could recognize her. Finally I saw a very pretty girl with a lovely hairdo

31 n a Brief MeMOir and thought, “That’s her.” Sure enough. Probably all the Adventist boarding schools in Latin America at the time followed a very strict etiquette program in regards to the relationship between boys and girls. Saturday night was the special evening when some of the walls came down in this regards. It was dedicated to a series of entertainment activities involving both boys and girls known as eventos sociales—literally “social events.” One of those activities was la marcha—literally “the march.” During a march the boys and girls form separate lines that follow marching instructions that bring them together and apart in intricate patterns at the rhythm of the piano player. It was the most exciting way to come close to the persons of the opposite gender that claimed your affection.

That Saturday night, during the social events, I introduced myself to Miriam and invited her to march with me. As we talked I felt exhilarated. Our mutual attraction grew as we became better acquainted. We started going out together. We took classes together, we saw each other during choir rehearsals, all within the confines of the strict rules in regards to the relations between the opposite genders at the school.

On April 17, 1961, Playa Girón was invaded. That’s the event better known in the U.S. as the Bay of Pigs Invasion. This resulted in the incarceration of 14 C.A. students, along with the C.A. President and Vice-President, Pastor Alfredo Aeschlimann and Manuel Carballal. On Sabbath, at the beginning of the week of prayer, they were taken to the gymnasium of the university, where hundreds of prisoners were being detained. Those were dark and difficult days. The entire student body prayed constantly for their liberation. Finally, after almost a week, on Friday afternoon, they were let go. The whole school went to the chapel to give thanks to God, and to hear what had happened. On that day all of our sympathies towards the Revolution ended.

As graduation neared, I would be completing my Associate

32 n nOn OMnis MOriar Normally, no weddings were conducted at C.A. during the school year.

However, because of the unusual circumstances, the rules were relaxed. We had a beautiful wedding with many musical parts, and the whole school was invited to the reception in the dining hall.

33 n a Brief MeMOir

34 n nOn OMnis MOriar in Accounting degree. I was elected president of the senior class.

The mood at C.A. was dark and gloomy. Already a government official was ensconced in the President’s office. The future of C.A. was uncertain. It was a very sad graduation.

I continued teaching at C.A. and on December, 1961, de Carballal family spent Christmas with my family, planning our wedding for January 16, 1962. We hoped to leave Cuba with the Carballals after the wedding, as soon as I could obtain permission from the government, and a visa from the U.S. Normally, no weddings were conducted at C.A. during the school year. However, because of the unusual circumstances, the rules were relaxed. We had a beautiful wedding with many musical parts, and the whole school was invited to the reception in the dining hall.

We spent our honeymoon at La Habana Hilton. From there we went to the U.S. embassy to request my visa. Since Miriam was an American citizen, she claimed me as her husband for an expedited visa. Dago and Nelly Castro were also in Havana awaiting permission to leave via Mexico. So we asked them to join us at La Habana Hilton, where they stayed in a room not too far from ours. Together we decided to drive to a tourist center in Pinar del Río, called Soroa. The only persons with a car were the Carballals, so they went with us. Thus it so happened that we spent our honeymoon with my best friends and my in-laws.

The time had come for me to go to the Mastrapa plantation and say good bye to my family. I had no idea that this would be the last time I would be there for 17 years. This was where I had spent my childhood and adolescence. It held my dearest memories and strongest ties. With many tears and farewells to friends and family, we returned to C.A. to wait for our departure.

Once in Santa Clara, we stayed at the home of Ruby and Héctor Torres, who had left to work in Havana. I will always be thankful to

the Torres for their generosity and Christian affection in lending us their home. After a month, we were informed that we could leave the country in two weeks. So we packed our clothes and wedding gifts and went to Havana, where we would be close to the airport.

We stayed with Elder Pedro de Armas and his wife Rita. We took along with us 25 boxes with which we hoped to start our new home in the U.S. Five days before leaving, the Cuban government passed a law that no one could take out more than two changes of clothes. All our possessions were left behind, but we were glad to leave Cuba. On March 5, 1962, my cousins Arturito and Elvirita came to bid us good bye at the José Martí Airport. A very different chapter would now begin.

We spent our honeymoon at La Habana Hilton. Dago and Nelly Castro were also in Havana and we asked them to join us at La Habana Hilton, where they stayed in a room not too far from ours. Together we decided to drive to a tourist center in Pinar del Río, called Soroa. The only persons with a car were the Carballals, so they went with us. Thus it so happened that we spent our honeymoon with my best friends and my in-laws.

36 n nOn OMnis MOriar

running

the rAce (Early Adulthood)

T

he flight from Havana to Miami was very short, only 45 minutes. But the social and cultural distance could not have been greater. We had arrived at the land of freedom and opportunities. Our excitement was short-lived and was soon replaced by uncertainty. From the airport they separated me from the rest of the family and took me by bus to Camp Opalocka, a military camp where they classified all immigrants for the required military service. The country was at war with Vietnam. Miriam was furious and protested vigorously. We had just left Cuba where military service was obligatory, and now I was going through the same experience all over again. I was incommunicado for three days. Finally I was given ten cents to call Miriam and let her know that I would be leaving soon. That same day we were reunited.

We had planned to travel to Takoma Park, Maryland, where Miriam’s aunt Abda Rosado lived. Five of us had left Havana for the U.S. Now Carballal’s brother, Eduardo, had joined us in Miami, to look for better opportunities up north. He would later send for the rest of his family from Miami. Carballal bought a car in Miami,

37 n a Brief MeMOir and the six of us piled in and left Miami for Takoma Park, on March 13, 1962.

In Takoma Park, our main task was to find work. Elder Manuel Rosado took Miriam to the Interamerican Development Bank. She took the typing test, and they asked if she could start that same day. God had opened the door. Others had applied there for work, but had not been hired. Elder Rosado took me to the College Press at Columbia Union College, now Washington Adventist University.

They asked me if I could come to work the next day. No doubt God was blessing us and had plans for us. We worked there until August of that year. By then we had saved enough money to go to school in Mayag端ez, Puerto Rico, and Miriam was pregnant.

Most of the faculty from C.A. had gone to Puerto Rico after the Cuban revolutionary government took over C.A. The President of the school in Mayag端ez, Dr. Federico Guillermo Drachenberg and his wife Dora, took us to their home that first night. The next day, Dago and Nelly insisted that we stay with them until our apartment was finished, and our furniture arrived from the U.S.

38 n nOn OMnis MOriar At 10:00 a.m. I rushed to the church to bring him back. Not a moment too soon, for it wasn’t long and they wheeled Miriam and the baby out. Miriam exclaimed, “Nando, look what a precious baby girl God has given us.” She had picked the name Lilibet, and I had picked my mother’s name. So she became Lilibet del Carmen.

39 n a Brief MeMOir

For three years I enjoyed my work as treasurer and teacher. The students were friendly and respectful. Puerto Rico has a special holiday to honor teachers.

On Teacher’s Day students show their appreciation for the teacher with gifts.

That day I would go home laden with many gifts. Today, after 47 years, I still receive affectionate greetings from former students, now adult professionals who still remember those days.

40 n nOn OMnis MOriar My experience in Mayagüez was interesting. There we made our first real home. Though I missed my parents and family, I had a higher purpose, to prepare myself to serve the Lord. After working one month in the school press, Dr. Drachenberg asked me to teach high school. I had already taught two years in Cuba, so I eagerly agreed. I taught four classes every morning and took college courses in the afternoon.

Early on Sabbath morning December 8, 1962, Miriam woke me up and said, “Nando, I think you need to take me to Bella Vista Hospital. I’m in labor.”

On arrival, her doctor, Dr. Ivan Angell, said, “I have time to go to Sabbath School. This is going to take a long while.”

At 10:00 a.m. I rushed to the church to bring him back. Not a moment too soon, for it wasn’t long and they wheeled Miriam and the baby out. Miriam exclaimed, “Nando, look what a precious baby girl God has given us.” She had picked the name Lilibet, and I had picked my mother’s name. So she became Lilibet del Carmen.

We spent two years at the school in Mayagüez. A year after Lily was born, we were blessed with our first son. Again Miriam was in labor on the Sabbath, and Orlando Manuel was born on December 7, 1963. He was named after myself and Miriam’s father.

The school year 1963-64 was very difficult. Miriam wanted to finish her Associate degree and I wanted to finish my B.A. so I had registered for 21 college credits. I taught every morning, and studied every afternoon, and now there were added family responsibilities. Thankfully, we were both able to graduate at the end of the school year. As we marched down the aisle, Miriam carried our third child in her womb.

Before graduation I received a call to be the treasurer at the Metropolitan Adventist Academy in Puerto Rico. My dream was becoming reality, to serve the Lord working for His church. During

41 n a Brief MeMOir the summer we moved to San Juan, Puerto Rico. There I rented a house at Avenida Campo Rico #913. It was close to the Sabana Llana Church, where the Academy was temporarily housed until the new campus was built. The house had three bedrooms, with room for the third baby we were awaiting.

The previous two pregnancies had arrived early according to Dr. Ivan Angell’s calculations. So this time we ran to the clinic twice for false alarms. Dr. Pronko gave me all the necessary tools in case I had to cut the umbilical cord. That kept me awake at night. Finally, one Sabbath morning, we decided to induce labor.

We went to the Lourdes Clinic, in Río Piedras, where they injected Miriam with pitussin. The baby came so fast that they had no time to take Miriam to the Delivery Room. They asked us all to leave, and in a few minutes a beautiful baby boy was born, strong and healthy. We called him Héctor Antonio. It was November 8, 1964.

For three years I enjoyed my work as treasurer and teacher.

The students were friendly and respectful. Puerto Rico has a

42 n nOn OMnis MOriar special holiday to honor teachers. On Teacher’s Day students show their appreciation for the teacher with gifts. That day I would go home laden with many gifts. Today, after 47 years, I still receive affectionate greetings from former students, now adult professionals who still remember those days.

My wish had always been to prepare myself as well as possible for my work. Thus in 1967, I requested permission from the Antillian Union to pursue post-graduate studies in the U.S. The Union had helped pay my tuition at Mayagüez for two years. The Union treasurer, Carlos Enrique Schmidt, suggested that I study to become a Spanish professor. There was a great need for this in the colleges of Inter-America. I had other plans. My goal was to go to the University of Guadalajara, Mexico, and study medicine. I sent my transcripts to the university and was accepted. However, the Mexican government did not allow me into the country, because I was a citizen of a communist country, Cuba. God had other plans for me.

I left Puerto Rico, the Island of Enchantment, and returned to Takoma Park, Maryland. I registered at Georgetown University for the school year 1968-69, for the Master’s Program in Spanish Linguistics. The Columbia Union College (CUC) College Press hired me back full time. I would work all day and go to Georgetown every night, from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. That year, however, CUC decided to close the College Press, and I found work at a large printing company in Silver Spring, through a work mate, Germán Carrero. That job lasted only a month, because Bob Bateman, the sales manager for the College Press, asked me to come work for him in his new printing business. I was the only printer in the shop—a big responsibility.

Every evening, Miriam would have a sandwich ready for me when I finished work. I would eat while I drove to Georgetown University. When I finished classes at 9:00 p.m. I would then go on

43 n a Brief MeMOir

44 n nOn OMnis MOriar to Bethesda where I worked helping an elderly man prepare to go to bed. On weekends, I would alternate with my friend Francisco Pérez and work taking care of another older man in Chain Bridge.

Thus I provided for my family and paid for the university’s tuition, which was quite expensive.

During my last semester at Georgetown, I went to a teaching agency and applied for work as a Spanish professor. A few days later, Sidwell Friends School invited me for an interview. This was one of the most prestigious schools in the metropolitan Washington area. The opening was to teach all the Spanish classes, including Advanced Placement. The Chair of the Spanish Department was Mrs. Guillermina Supervía, a highly respected and demanding teacher. She was a member of the school board, and had written the Spanish textbook used there. Her students looked up to her, and she had the full support of the administration. I was told to come and teach all the classes, on a trial basis for my employment. Mrs. Supervía observed me carefully, as I spent that day teaching. After finishing the classes assigned to me, I went to the headmaster’s office. There and then he offered me the job. Mrs. Supervía had already given him her verdict.

The Spanish department grew as the number of students taking Spanish classes increased. The nine years I spent at Sidwell Friends School, were my best training in teaching American teenagers.

Most of the students were from professional and government families, such as the children of Senators, Representatives, and even the White House. Most of the students aspired to enter Ivy League schools, and 99% went on to college. I could not have taught in a better place.

Mrs. Supervía was very gracious and appreciative. On several occasions she invited my entire family for dinner, including my in-laws, Rebecca and Manuel Carballal. She was a true mentor, whom I admired greatly and from whom I learned much. The day

she retired in 1976, she announced in a faculty meeting that I would be the next Chairman of the Spanish department. And so I was for the next three years until I ended my tenure.

One Friday evening in 1979, I saw an advertisement in the Review & Herald for a Spanish Professor at Andrews University.

I felt moved to call Andrews, since from my school days, my parents would say that my education was to serve the Lord and to work for the Church. Andrews invited me to go for an interview, and paid all my travel expenses and those of Miriam. At the South Bend Airport, Indiana, Dr. Eduardo Ocampo was waiting for us.

He was the Spanish professor at the University. After my interview, they offered me the job. I said I would think about it, and let them know later.

Returning to Takoma Park, I began having doubts. They offered me less salary than I was earning at Sidwell Friends, and I loved my present work. I asked my brother to apply for the job instead of me. I also told Dr. Catalina Genover Nelson about the job opening at Andrews. However, Dr. Dwain Ford, the Academic Dean, called me back and insisted that I was the right person for the position. I returned to Michigan with Miriam and negotiated the salary. Then Dr. Ford took us to see some of the houses for sale, but we did not find any that suited us. Finally we returned home and I regretfully told the Headmaster of Sidwell Friends that I would be leaving the next academic year to teach at Andrews University. He said, “I understand why you would choose this opportunity. However, you will never have students of the same caliber as at Sidwell.� He was right, but Adventist education aims to teach not only for this life, but for the life to come. That vision inspired me. I was unable to attend the faculty meeting where they planned to honor me with a gift for my years of service. I had made plans earlier to go to Cuba and visit my parents, whom I had not seen in 17 years.

46 n nOn OMnis MOriar

The trip from the Airport to Havana seemed interminable, though it lasted only half an hour.

However, it was past 1:00 a.m. and I was anxious to see my mother. She was eagerly waiting for me.

I could see the physical changes of the past 17 years in my parents. My emotions threatened to betray me. I felt overwhelmed and unable to sleep that night.

47 n a Brief MeMOir

Changes, Past and Future

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he summer of ’79 was hectic. During the 60’s and 70’s, Cuba and the U.S. were in a “cold war.” However, by the end of the 1970’s, President Jimmy Carter made arrangements with the Cuban government that simplified the process of obtaining visas and traveling to the island nation. I took advantage of the situation and made plans to visit my family. I left for Cuba on June 20. Catalina Castillo, a long time family friend, had made plans to travel with me. When we arrived at the Miami Airport, a lady approached me as we waited for our flight to Havana. She said, “Someone told me that you are a spy of Fidel Castro.”

“Tell whoever gave you that information to return your money.

I’m nobody’s spy,” I answered.

After waiting for several hours due to a flight delay, we finally left at 9:35 p.m. By 10:30 p.m. we were on Cuban soil at the José Martí Airport. Before picking up our luggage all the passengers had to stand in line and go through Immigration. An armed militia stood guard watching each of us. Purposefully, I ignored him, but when my turn was about to come to present my passport, he pulled me out of the line and said, “You, sir, wait here.”

48 n nOn OMnis MOriar Of all the long line of passengers, I was the only one pulled out to be intimidated by his authoritarianism. Catalina saw us and started praying. After all the passengers had checked in, the immigration officer took my passport, opened it, looked at me fixedly and said nothing. Finally, he took the passport to the back.

The wait seemed very long, but I did not worry, Catalina’s prayers were working. When he returned, he gave me my passport and said casually, “You can go through customs now.”

As I left the airport, the first person I saw was my father. What a wonderful feeling to see him again! There was a large group of family and friends with him: my sister Migdalia (I had left her as a teenager) and her husband Tomás and daughter Yazmín, Ernestina Carballal (Miriam’s aunt), and her daughter Milagritos, Héctor and Ruby Torres, and Elder Arturo and Mrs. Magnolia Broche. They had waited several hours and it was a very emotional reunion.

The trip from the Airport to Havana seemed interminable, though it lasted only half an hour. However, it was past 1:00 a.m. and I was anxious to see my mother. She was eagerly waiting for me. I could see the physical changes of the past 17 years in my parents. My emotions threatened to betray me. I felt overwhelmed and unable to sleep that night.

The next afternoon we boarded the train to Camagüey, a trip that would last approximately 6 to 7 hours. With me were my parents, Migdalia, Tomás, Yazmín and Albin, their son. When the train stopped in Matanzas, my cousin Oliver and Judith Mastrapa were waiting to greet me at the station. We arrived in Camagüey at 1:00 a.m. and went to my niece Lala’s home. The next morning Rubén Rodríguez took us in his car to the Manatí Sugar Mill. On the way we saw uncle Lole (Heliodoro Mastrapa) in front of his house, on the sugar plantation that the government had already taken away from him.

My sister Mirta lived by the Manatí Sugar Mill, and her house

49 n a Brief MeMOir was filled with people waiting to see me. I was overwhelmed with joy and excitement at being surrounded with so many relatives and friends. Oscar L贸pez, my brother-in-law, was very generous and prepared a banquet for everyone. In my mind I still longed to visit my homestead in Colonia Mastrapa. So Oscar made all the arrangements to please me. He obtained a gas-car (a rail cart run by gasoline). So with my father, Tomas, Migdalia, Ubaldo and the conductor, I left for Mastrapa . I loved seeing the land again, green with sugar cane, but as we passed the different plantations, I also noticed the neglect and desolation. Mixed feelings came over me.

I felt overjoyed to be there, and I also felt a great sadness for the tremendous changes caused by all the years of abandonment.

The railway that ran in front of our house had been torn out.

We were able to go as far as the crane where they weighed the sugar from Mastrapa was. From there on, my cousin Abner, oldest son of Joel Mastrapa, drove us by tractor to the Mastrapa hamlet.

Everything was different. The house of Rodrigo Torres and his family no longer existed. The church school was no longer in its place. The house of the Romeros, had been converted into two small shacks. Suddenly I saw my house, old and neglected.

The windmill that supplied the water and the water tank had disappeared, so had the garage.

I asked the new owner permission to go in. Suddenly the past and the present came together in my mind. All the windows were closed. I wanted to see the bedrooms, they were also closed. I searched for our living room furniture, but the room was completely empty. My tears would not let me see clearly, but there was nothing to see. I left through the kitchen door and went to the well, where I had satiated my thirst for so many years. The old well still quenched the thirst of many, but no one that I knew. That day, my tears augmented the water in the well. I had to leave quickly.

I searched for the other houses. The house of my uncle Avelino

50 n nOn OMnis MOriar

51 n a Brief MeMOir

52 n nOn OMnis MOriar Mastrapa was gone. Only the well and a few floor tiles were left of what had been a beautiful home. No longer were there any orange trees or coconut palms. The tropical fruit orchard was in ruins. I went to my cousins Idalia and Héctor Mastrapa’s house. They no longer lived there. They were living in Manatí. My uncle Juanito Amado and his wife Dalia now lived there.

The next place I wanted to see was the Mastrapa Crossing. This was where the railroad crossed the Camino Real, and had been the social center of Colonia Mastrapa. Uncle Geño’s (Eugenio Mastrapa) house had been taken away foundations and all. The general store was locked. It looked old and sad with neglect. There I found the sign that read, “20 Kilometers from Mastrapa to Tunas.”

This was the road that as a child I had so often travelled to Victoria de las Tunas. There was nothing else to see. I realized that my wonderful memories of the past had been replaced by a sad and harsh present reality. On the return to Manatí, I watched the hill that marked the Colonia Mastrapa. As it faded into the distance I knew that I would never see it again.

In Manatí, my nieces took me to meet their friends. They were all very friendly, open and gracious with me. On Sabbath I went to church there. It was a pretty church, filled with people. Suddenly the pastor asked me to preach. I was totally unprepared. However, the Lord impressed me to share with the church my recent trip to the Holy Land with some spiritual applications. At the end, I played a tape of Miriam singing by the Sea of Galilee, “I Walked Today Where Jesus Walked.” It was an emotional moment.

My cuban stay was for only seven days. Sunday, Oscar took me to see my aunt Enedina Amado. She lived near the Central Highway, en route to Victoria de las Tunas. She was wonderfully surprised, and received me joyfully. As I left, she gave me a chicken so that the family would make Arroz con Pollo for me. It showed her great love and generosity. After a short visit, we left for

53 n a Brief MeMOir Camagüey, where I took the train back to Havana.

In Havana, I confirmed my return flight to Miami. The travel agency Mar Azul organized a meal where we were given the travel details. They assigned me to the motel “Los Pinos,” in Havana, but I only went there once, when I visited the beach with Migdalia and Tomás.

The moment arrived when I had to say good bye to my parents and relatives. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. With a strong embrace and tears in my eyes, I bid farewell for the second time to my parents and family. On the flight to Miami, I told myself, “I’ll never again come back to Cuba.”

Waiting in Miami for my flight to Maryland, I wrote (June 29, 1979): My people weep from hunger, My people weep from sadness, My people weep longing for liberty, My people slowly die, I carry pain within my soul, How it hurts to see their sadness, The anguish of no solution.

I could hardly wait to get home. Miriam and the children were waiting for me at the airport. When I arrived, Miriam said, “Are you ill?” I had lost weight, I was drained. But my recovery would have to be quick. I had to pack everything in readiness for our move to Berrien Springs.

Andrews University sent a moving van to transport all our belongings. After filling the truck, I still had to tie the outdoor furniture to the back of the truck. It was stuffed with boxes and everything we owned. Berrien Springs is 636 miles from Takoma

Park. We followed the truck by car, and arrived after ten hours of travel.

We had bought a house at 148 Ridge Avenue. The sale closing would be in three weeks. Therefore, we were not allowed to move in until after the closing. We spent those three weeks in Meier Hall, the men’s dormitory, in two adjoining rooms. Not an ideal situation, but we accepted it as the best measure, since classes would soon start. Meanwhile the truck had unloaded everything in one of the University storage buildings, until the day we moved into our home. What a great feeling to unpack and find just the place where we wanted to put each item. We could finally feel at home.

Lily, Orly, and Hector enrolled in Andrews Academy. There they soon made new friends and settled for the duration of their high school years. Miriam was soon offered a job at the Lake Union office of Home Health Education Services (HHES). She had worked in a similar capacity at the Columbia Union in Maryland, and her former boss was now the HHES Director at the Lake Union Conference. She loved her work, and made lasting friendships. She worked there for the rest of her days. I taught Spanish I, II, Cultural Perspectives, and Teaching Methods for Foreign Languages. I was happy with my decision. God had helped us and would continue to guide us. Nevertheless, I still felt nostalgic twinges for Takoma Park. I had left many friends and family there that I continued to miss. And so that fall, we chose to go back to Takoma Park for Thanksgiving. That helped all the family feel that we were not so far from what had been our home for the previous twelve years.

55 n a Brief MeMOir

Experiencing good and evil (Mid-Adulthood)

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he happiest news arrived on December, 1980, the Cuban government had given permission for religious persons to leave Cuba, and Jimmy Carter’s government was willing to receive them and give them asylum. The biggest problem was how to travel from Cuba to the U.S. My cousin Elías—who had had one of those novel like experiences while escaping from Cuba— proposed that we buy a boat and he would take it to Cuba and bring back our family. We bought a boat for $6,000. It was used only once, but my family remained in the concentration camp.

The Carter Administration passed a law prohibiting all travel by private boat. All travel would now be by air, sponsored by the U.S. government, and only for those waiting in the concentration camp of Mariel, Cuba. These refugees would be granted residency in the U.S., also known as “the green card,” making them eligible for eventual U.S. citizenship. Thousands had registered to leave, among them my parents, my sister Migdalia and her family, Ubaldo and his family, and many other Adventist pastors and families.

My parents, Migdalia, Ubaldo and their families arrived in

56 n nOn OMnis MOriar

57 n a Brief MeMOir

58 n nOn OMnis MOriar Miami on December 8, 1980. The relatives in Miami received them with gifts and hospitality. After a few days, they travelled to Maryland, to my brother Misael’s home. There they waited until Christmas vacation, when I was finally able to travel to Takoma Park to greet them. I was thrilled that we could finally be together.

On New Year’s Day, 1981, I was able to bring my parents with me to Berrien Springs. During the drive to Michigan we talked to our heart’s content. This was the first time they had seen snow.

Soon the word got out that Berrien Springs was a wonderful place for Adventist families and pastors. Pastor Isaac Suárez approached me one day and said, “Orlando, we must do something to help these Cuban pastors that have arrived in Miami.”

I immediately began to work. I contacted Luis Leonor, pastor of the Spanish Adventist Church in Berrien Springs, and together we devised a plan. Isaac would make some contacts in Miami, Luis would put them in touch with the Michigan Social Services, and I would enroll them at the university through grants and find apartments for them.

In total, 28 Cuban families arrived in Berrien Springs, most of them with school-age children. The Berrien Springs public school was suddenly inundated with an unanticipated number of children, who did not speak English. The Berrien County School Superintendent, Dr. Schuster spoke with the Andrews University President, Grady Smoot, who called me to a meeting in his office along with Vice President Richard Schwarz. They requested that I not bring any more Cuban families, because there was no School budget for more children. I had to say, “These families just left a country with no freedom. Now they are in a free country, where they can make their own decisions. So I cannot guarantee anything.”

Most of these pastors, finished an M. Div. and eventually found work pastoring throughout the United States. Within four years, they had all relocated. By the mid-80’s only my sister Migdalia and

59 n a Brief MeMOir her family remained as a permanent resident of Berrien Springs.

Among the families that arrived in Michigan, there were six Mastrapa or Amado families: Oliver, Omar, Ubaldo, Migdalia, Iris, and Elías. For every refugee family, Miriam and I would have in their apartment linens, kitchen utensils, and bread and milk in the refrigerator. The arrival of so many Cuban friends and relatives helped me to adjust better to Berrien Springs. Having my parents close by, was a source of comfort and joy for me. My family also was adapting well, and enjoyed helping the new arrivals. Life was good, but everything was about to change.

One beautiful spring morning in April, 1982, Miriam asked me, “Nando, please touch my neck. I feel a tiny bump. I can’t imagine what it could be.” I felt a very small round lump, so I said, “I’m calling Dr. Habenicht to check it.”

Dr. Habenicht examined her, and said, “It appears to be a salivary gland. These often disappear by themselves without problems.”

A few days later, I noticed that Miriam’s neck was swollen, so I took her to Berrien General Hospital for a biopsy. When the results arrived, Dr. Schindler called me and said, “It’s malignant.” I felt as if I had just received a mortal blow. I wanted to scream, but I had to show strength and hope for Miriam’s sake. We would both have to fight together to fight against this terrible illness.

After the biopsy, the cancer spread aggressively. I searched for the best treatment, and learned of Dr. Arthur Weaver, a well-known neck surgeon in Harpers Hospital, Detroit. He was a Seventh-day Adventist, and had relatives in Berrien Springs. We decided to wait until after Academy Graduation. This was Lily’s high school graduation, but a dark cloud hung over this celebration. A week later was the University Graduation. I learned that Dr. Weaver would be there. So after graduation, I approached him, and under

60 n nOn OMnis MOriar a maple tree, next to Pioneer Memorial Church, we set the date for Miriam’s surgery.

Now I had to request a summer leave of absence from Andrews.

I was in charge of the ILCOP (Institute for Language and Cultural Orientation Program) summer program. This was part of the Mission Institute, where missionaries studied the Spanish language and culture. Thankfully, the University granted me a leave, and we set off for Detroit. Besides myself and Miriam, we took our three children, and Miriam’s parents, Rebecca and Manuel Carballal.

The surgery was long and difficult. When Dr. Weaver finally came out, he said, “The surgery went well, but I had to do radical neck surgery. Furthermore, eleven lymph nodes were cancerous.

The results, only the future can tell.” Then he told me I could go to the recovery room. Miriam was awake. I did not dare to look at her neck. Finally I had the courage to look at it, and I saw it was not bandaged. I felt my head spinning. Tears filled my eyes. Miriam looked at me, and said, “I look bad, don’t I?” Instead of seeing her beautiful face, now the eyes were drawn to her disfigured neck.

I spent two months in Detroit, while Miriam received chemotherapy and radiation. It was a happy day, the day we returned home. On the way home, Miriam turned to me and said, “I hope God lets me sing again.”

“Try softly,” I said.

I heard a feeble voice singing, “How Great Thou Art.” She smiled as she said, “Nando, when I get well, I want to sing and give my testimony about how God healed me.”

“I’ll be next to you, giving thanks to God,” I murmured.

It was not to be.

Two months later, a new tumor came back. Alarmed, we returned to Detroit, and Miriam underwent a second surgery. After a few weeks, I brought her back home to Berrien Springs. The church community and my work colleagues surrounded us with

61 n a Brief MeMOir their support and concern. During the evenings, some of them would be there for a season of prayer, calling on God’s healing promises. Miriam insisted that God’s will be done. Her spiritual strength was admirable. She never complained about her illness.

Even when she was in severe pain from the radiation and the burning pain would not allow her to swallow, she withstood the pain valiantly.

On October, 1982, I received a call from Lincoln, Nebraska, from Estelita Pérez, an old schoolmate now married to my friend Eliezer Pérez. She told me about a Clinic in San Diego that offered alternative treatments. The Livingston Clinic was run by Seventhday Adventist doctors who specialized in cancer treatments. We decided to go. I called our friend, Isela Girado, and asked her to find out more about the Livingston Clinic. She immediately offered her home for us to stay—what a generous offer! When we arrived she told us we could use a car that our friends Silvio and Celestina Sales were loaning to us, to go to the Clinic. This show of love and generosity was so great, I shall always be indebted to them.

The change to San Diego was very positive. The treatments gave us hope, and we returned renewed to Berrien Springs, to spend Thanksgiving with the children. We had been planning this feast for quite a while. I fixed dinner, and Miriam set a beautiful table. I wonder if she realized this would be our last Thanksgiving as a family.

At Christmas we traveled to Maryland as usual, to be with Miriam’s parents. They were not happy holidays. Miriam did not feel well. A new tumor was growing inside her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. I felt physically exhausted. I could not sleep with worry and Miriam wanted me by her side all the time.

When we returned to Berrien Springs, I decided to take her to Detroit again. However, Doctor Weaver told us there was nothing more he could do. In desperation, I called the Livingston Clinic.

62 n nOn OMnis MOriar They told me to bring her back to San Diego. When we arrived, her condition worsened, so they suggested I take her to Lakewood Hospital, south of Los Angeles.

Miriam’s cousin, Manolito Rosado, rented a private plane and took her to Lakewood. There they performed a tracheotomy so she could breathe. Feeling her strength fading, Miriam asked to see her children before dying. I called my friend and pastor, Luis Leonor, and asked him to get airplane tickets for the three children.

Luis not only bought their tickets, but also came with them. Their presence was very reassuring during those few days they spent with her mother and me before they had to return to school in Berrien Springs. I will always be grateful to Luis and Noemí Leonor for their unstinting support. They were as guardian angels to us.

Now Noemí rests in the Lord, but her works still follow her. I told her, “Noemí, I want to be your neighbor in heaven.”

Finally the Lakewood doctor told us that there was nothing else that could be done for Miriam. Exhausted and with no further hope, I brought Miriam back home to Berrien Springs. At the airport in Chicago, my friends Rubén and Argentina Rubán were waiting for us. They had put a mattress in the back part of their van, so Miriam could lay down and rest on the two-hour drive to Michigan.

This was another selfless act of Christian love that I will always remember. This was the fourth time we returned home. This time to await the inevitable.

The days passed very slowly. I could see the physical deterioration and loss of weight. Miriam could no longer speak because of the tracheotomy, so she communicated in writing. I noticed that her handwriting became uneven and harder to read, so unlike her usual beautiful calligraphy. Her words and sentences were unfinished. Her brain was shutting down. Every day people continued to come and pray for her, such as Erwin García, Wendy Lawson, Dr. and Mrs. Richard Schwartz, David Gullón and others.

63 n a Brief MeMOir I’m sure that their prayers gave us strength to cope.

On February 22, 1983, I saw that Miriam needed professional help. Therefore, after praying with her and begging the Lord to take care of her, I called an ambulance and saw her leave home for the last time. In her blue eyes, I saw that she no longer understood what was happening. In the hospital they sedated her. I stayed by her side, but she was no longer aware of anyone’s presence. Her parents, Rebecca and Manuel Carballal, and sister Maggy, were also there with us.

Friday, February 25, was the wedding anniversary of the Carballals. Maggy ordered a cake, and brought it to the hospital room. At sunset, we received the Sabbath day. Nancy Inquilla, the nurse on duty and a friend from church, had cleaned and dressed Miriam very nicely, and her face looked very peaceful. I thanked Nancy for her good care. She said, “Miriam was a beautiful lady, who was always well dressed. She deserves to be well cared for.”

I helped her sit her up in a comfortable chair. My oldest son, Orly was besides her, caressing her, when I heard a deep sigh. Then there was silence. Miriam was dead. She would have been 40 years old on May 1.

I asked Orly to call Lily and Héctor. They were getting ready to go to Friday Vespers at Pioneer Memorial Church (PMC). They had not left yet and came over immediately. During Vespers, they paused to announce that Mrs. Mastrapa had just died in Berrien General Hospital. Thankfully, my children were not there.

Miriam was ill for ten months. During all that time I remained by her side. At the moment of her death, I realized I would no longer be with her. I was engulfed by a deep sadness and pain. I had to make funeral arrangements. I asked Luis Leonor to see if there was a gravesite available at Oak Hill Cemetery, in Battle Creek, near Ellen G. White’s grave. I did not want to bury her at Rose Hill Cemetery, in Berrien Springs, close to my house, a constant

reminder of her absence. I could not. Luis found two plots, instead of one, at Oak Hill Cemetery, one for Miriam and one for me.

While she was ill, Miriam told me, “When I die I’d like to wear the grey dress that Orly gave me.” I followed her wishes. On March 3, 1983, we had a Memorial Service at PMC. Pastor David Baasch came from Maryland to offer the homily. He spoke of God’s promises and how they are not always fulfilled in the way we want.

He knows what is best for everyone. He sees the big picture. He will never abandon us. And we will understand in the life to come.

Returning home without Miriam tore me inside. I would go through periods of denial. Rebecca, Manuel and Maggy Carballal returned to Maryland. In Berrien Springs I felt alone with my three children, the fruit of 21 years of marriage. My life felt very sad and lonely. I felt abandoned. Lily, Orly, and Hector returned to their school routine. I also returned to my classes. But inside we were all hurting. I do not know where we found the strength to continue.

We did not have the constant visitors anymore. The evenings were especially hard, and nighttime seemed to announce loneliness and sadness.

The mental torture was agonizing. Even when I did not wish it, unwanted thoughts of her death and illness tormented me. I knew the children were also suffering. However, when we were together, we tried to show strength. Thus we avoided the depth of depression with the comfort of togetherness and shared times. Two months later, the Spanish Adventist Church celebrated Mother’s Day. When the program started, we left church and drove to the Cemetery in Battle Creek. Together, we wept and grieved over Miriam’s grave.

65 n a Brief MeMOir

Beginning Again (Later Adulthood)

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ights were the most difficult to cope with. I decided to occupy my time learning to create something beautiful, so Lily, Orly, and I took classes in stained glass. I enrolled in a Master’s Program at the University. I also visited my parents who lived with my sister Migdalia. And thus I kept myself distracted.

I finished my second Master’s in 1987, and graduated with Orly, Hector, Carol, and Omar. One more mile marker in life’s journey, achieved one step at a time. The local newspaper printed an article on the five Mastrapas graduating.

Widowhood is not easy. External circumstances complicated the following years. Many wanted to give me advice, or tried set me up with eligible ladies. I received visits, letters, phone calls and even romantic songs in the middle of the night, from interested women. However, I kept praying that God would lead me to the right person, if I were to remarry. Four years passed and God had not yet shown me a woman with whom to spend the rest of my life.

In 1987, the Spanish Adventist Church Board asked me to take charge of preparing a photographic Church Directory. I encouraged

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68 n nOn OMnis MOriar every member to participate and make an appointment to have their picture taken. I went to the Church pianist, Selma Chaij, and suggested that after she had her picture taken I would bring the proofs to her. The day I took the proofs to her house, we discussed the upcoming school spring break. She mentioned that she was going to Washington, DC, for a Conference. I told her that I was going there also to see my brother. Since we would both be in the same area, I offered to be her tourist guide and show her the sights. I asked her to call me after church on Sabbath. That day I had dinner with my brother and then picked up Selma at the Silver Spring Hilton.

We had a wonderful day driving through the Capital’s many historical sites and monuments. At sunset I took her to the Potomac River by Alexandria. There we watched the Sabbath sun go down and I kissed her to wish her a happy week. Back in Berrien Springs, we continued to see each other. I saw her empty front yard and surprised her by planting flowers. She was delighted. We became special friends. One day Selma told me she had tickets to see Camelot. Richard Harris played King Arthur. I thoroughly enjoyed the musical, but I enjoyed her company even more. Friendship turned to romance. I tried to spend every spare moment I could with her. I had many responsibilities at home, with my ailing parents, and with work, but Selma was very understanding and patient.

From the beginning, I told her that my intentions were to marry her when the time was right. I had dated two other women, and I had prayed that the Lord would show me who the right person was for me.

My youngest son Hector was the first to marry. His wedding was in June, 1987, the day after his graduation. He and Carol moved to Maryland, where an internship in Risk Management awaited him at the General Conference. A year later, Lily married her first husband Rob Ivkov, and moved to Toronto. Rob entered

69 n a Brief MeMOir graduate school at the University of Toronto in order to complete a Master’s in Chemistry. That same year Orly decided to move to Washington D.C., where he found a job as Spanish teacher at Takoma Academy. I was alone for the first time in my house at Berrien Springs.

Both my parents were seriously ill. My father was diagnosed with liver cancer in 1987. He died February 2, 1988. My mother was on dialysis for kidney failure for three years. She died March 21, 1989. My sister Migdalia had nursed them faithfully throughout their long illness. However, I also shared much of the responsibility taking them to doctors, to the hospital, with their medications, and with their daily care. However, after they passed away, I felt that my time in Berrien Springs was over. My two sons were in Maryland. My daughter and her husband also decided to move to Maryland. The only person keeping me in Michigan was Selma.

At the end of the 1989 school year, Orly called to tell me that Takoma Academy needed a Spanish teacher, because he had accepted a job at the Columbia Federal Credit Union. He urged me to apply. He had recommended me. I traveled to Takoma Park for an interview with the principal, Harvey Bristow. He offered me the job, and I accepted immediately. I returned to Berrien Springs and shared my plans with Selma. I sold my house and moved away in August, 1989. Exactly ten years from the time I left Takoma Park, I returned.

I bought a house in College Park and both Lily and Orly moved in with me. Lily and Rob, her husband, had decided to also move to Maryland. She moved earlier with me, and started working at the General Conference (GC). Meanwhile Rob was finishing his Masters in Chemistry in Toronto. Hector and Carol were already living in the area, while Hector completed an internship in Risk Management at the GC. My family was together again, this time working in Maryland. Certainly the Lord was guiding our every

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72 n nOn OMnis MOriar move. I settled in and was busy working at home and at school.

My first year at Takoma Academy I traveled several times to visit Selma in Berrien Springs. At the end of the school year, the principal told me they needed a school counselor. The counselor they had hired had unexpectedly died. He wondered if Selma would be interested in the job. I gave him her phone number. He called her and invited her to come for an interview. She came and after the interview, he offered her the job. She accepted. We both could see how God was guiding in our lives, and we both felt that we could now marry with His blessing. We chose August 5, 1990, for the wedding—right after Selma finished her summer teaching at Andrews.

The wedding chapel was in an idyllic setting. It was a little white chapel from another century set in the Niles, Michigan countryside, next to the Saint Joseph River. Even though Selma felt too timid to send invitations for her second wedding, the chapel was filled to capacity with over 100 guests.

The wedding was performed by Pastor Dwight Nelson, with Luis Leonor and Caleb Rosado also officiating, they were the pastors of PMC, the Spanish Adventist Church, and All Nations Church respectively. Selma’s father, Pastor Nicolas Chaij, offered the blessing. It was an emotional day, and we both felt very fragile from the emotional overload. The

73 n a Brief MeMOir reception was on the chapel lawn, near the river. It was a beautiful afternoon, sunny and brisk. Many of our friends and family were there. We were surrounded by love and support.

Immediately after the reception we left for Chicago, and the next day we flew to Honolulu for our honeymoon. We spent a week visiting three islands, Kauai, Hawaii and Oahu. In Honolulu we met up with Dick and Mimi Davidian. They had come from Seoul, Korea for a student missionary training seminar. They flew with us for a day to the Big Island of Hawaii. We were amazed seeing the lava flow from the Kilauea volcano into the ocean. It was an unforgettable and impressive sight. Every day of the honeymoon we enjoyed something new. Finally it was time to return to Berrien Springs, and move all of Selma’s belongings to our home in Maryland.

We started work at Takoma Academy the day after our arrival.

There was much to do. Shortly after we arrived in Maryland, on Sunday, August 19, Dolly and Arne Wasli, dear friends of mine for many decades, planned a beautiful reception for us. They invited many friends, family and colleagues. They had decorated their garden with impeccable taste. The food table was laden with exquisite homemade delicacies. Arne and Dolly’s hospitality and generosity have continued to be a source of unexpected joy throughout the years.

The years spent at Takoma Academy (TA) gave us the opportunity to work together and share the experiences that cemented our marriage. This helped us to learn more about each other, appreciate each other’s gifts, and protect each other’s vulnerabilities. Thus the all-important period of adjustment and adaptation was greatly facilitated by the shared time and goals at TA. On April, 1990, I went on a Mission Trip with TA students, to the Dominican Republic. Every night I would call my children to find

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76 n nOn OMnis MOriar out how they were doing. On April 12, Hector announced proudly that Carol had given birth to my first granddaughter, Chelsea. It was a time of great rejoicing. Chelsea has never disappointed us.

She has been a source of happiness and pride for all the family.

The Lord has given her many talents and gifts, such as her caring for others, her kindness and thoughtfulness, and her willingness to work hard. She also has a beautiful lyrical soprano voice that she uses to praise God. My second granddaughter Emily was born while we were away on a trip to Costa Rica. On July 8, 1992, Carol gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Emily has been a loving sister to Chelsea, and a cheerful and affectionate daughter and granddaughter. We are proud of her many gifts and talents also. During her years at Spencerville Adventist Academy, she participated in several musical plays. In her senior year she acted and sang one of the lead roles in Meet Me in St. Louis. Her teacher cast her as a mezzosoprano, even though she has a wonderfully melodic soprano range. She shows ambition, enthusiasm and friendliness, which will serve her well throughout her life.

Some of our best experiences at TA were the foreign language trips that we took every other year. I wanted to expose the students to a broader understanding of other languages and cultures. Thus, every two years I would plan a different trip to Europe. We visited many wonderful places in Spain, Italy, Greece, France, Monaco, and England. Each trip was a little different, and the countries varied, but we returned many times to those listed.

In 1995, the General Conference Session was in Utrecht, Netherlands. So I planned a tour with adults this time. Fortyeight persons went with us. After the GC Session, besides touring Belgium and the Netherlands, we continued through southern Germany and the Romance Road to Switzerland and Italy. It was a memorable trip. In all of the trips, Selma would help me with

the planning and organizational details. This team effort, and her ready assistance was invaluable.

I appreciated my colleagues at TA. They were gracious, friendly and supportive. I consider some of them as my friends, and still see them occasionally. I enjoyed the students, and I’m regularly delighted when I hear, “Señor Mastrapa,” and I meet a former student unexpectedly. During my final years at TA, I was sometimes saddened by the administration’s lack of professionalism which hurt the school and the staff. This caused me to look forward to retirement. I turned 65 years old on November 30, 2001. And I formally retired from the classroom at the end of that school year, on June 30, 2002. That fall Selma transferred to Columbia Union College (CUC), where she found an excellent collegial environment. She retired from there five years later.

My career spanned 40 years of teaching, 31 of these years in Seventh-day Adventist schools. This included two years at the Colegio de las Antillas, in Cuba; two years in Mayagüez, Puerto Rico; three years at the Academia Metropolitana, in Puerto Rico; nine years in Sidwell Friends School, in Washington DC; ten years at Andrews University, in Michigan; and the last 13 years at Takoma Academy, in Takoma Park, Maryland.

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Rewards of the Golden Years (Retirement)

T

he rewards of retirement started early. One year after I retired, CUC asked that I teach Spanish. It was a very satisfying year professionally. The students were more open and friendly than Academy students. I did not have to be concerned about disciplining teenagers. My colleagues embraced me as part of their team, and I felt appreciated in my work. I had several memorable students. Jonathan Cadavero came to me after class one day, and told me he had decided to volunteer in the military for the war in Iraq. I felt a chill as I asked him if he had considered all the consequences of such a decision. He replied he was convinced that this was the right thing to do. I was unable to convince him otherwise. A year later he was killed by enemy fire. Another outstanding student was Petra Houman. She had a gift for learning languages and quickly absorbed the structure and use of Spanish. She married Paul Howe, and together they went to Ethiopia to serve at the Adventist Mission Hospital. They have made a great difference for good in their work there.

One of my colleagues, David Miller, a communications

79 n a Brief MeMOir professor, asked me to help him organize a trip to Spain. We chose a tour named “The Golden Age of Spain.” More than 30 students and adults signed up for the trip. We visited Madrid, Toledo, Córdoba, Sevilla, Granada, La Alhambra, Málaga and Costa del Sol, Gibraltar, and Tetuán, Morocco. It was an unforgettable trip, reliving the long history of Spain and its colonies.

The next school year, Dunbar Henri, the new principal at TA, called and asked that I co-lead a trip to Spain with the new Spanish teacher, Erica Chávez. Since I had many years experience leading foreign language tours, he hoped I could train Erica on how to do this. Even though this time I was not a teacher, the students were open, friendly and respectful with me. I was glad that Selma accompanied me on all these trips and helped with the process. On the second day in Madrid, we visited the Royal Palacio de Oriente, one of the largest palaces in Europe. As we strolled through the halls of the second floor balcony, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and was greeted by my best friend’s daughter and her family from Texas, Lizzy Castro Homer, Kevin, Allison, and Andrew. It was a joyous surprise, and one of those unexpected meetings that seemed to happen on many of these trips. However, this time it touched me in a very personal manner. Lizzy said, “Tomorrow is my dad’s birthday. I will call him and tell him I saw you.” It was March 8, 2004. Seeing Lizzy was like seeing my best friend, Dagoberto Castro.

Another reward of retirement occurred when we were able to sell Selma’s duplex in Berrien Springs. After we married, we had rented Selma’s home, but it was becoming more complicated to keep it up. When we decided to sell, the Lord sent a buyer and the duplex sold in one weekend. With those proceeds we bought a small home, in Apopka, Florida. We flew to Florida to sign the closing papers the day on September 12, 2001, the day after the Twin Towers were destroyed by terrorist airplanes in New York City.

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82 n nOn OMnis MOriar The airports were empty, and it was an eerie feeling to be flying after the events of the day before. We rented the house out for several years until 2007. When Selma retired, the renters in Florida decided to move out. This gave us the opportunity to remodel the home. On January, 2008, we fled the Maryland winter and spent the next three months in our newly appointed home in Florida. We were close to many friends and relatives: my sister, my brother, as well as nieces, nephews, and cousins. They were all within a few minutes distance. We spent a busy winter enjoying our seasonal home. This have continued to be a pleasant occurrence for many years. We have appreciated the opportunity to flee the cold and enjoy the pleasant Florida winters.

Selma and I carefully planned for retirement. We knew it was imperative to be free of debt. There are no pay raises after retirement, and our income would immediately be reduced by 60% or more. We would need to live simply, within our retirement check. There would be no income to cover a mortgage. This meant that our mortgage must be paid. We scrupulously paid all our expenses in full every month. While working at TA we lived on my income and all of Selma’s income would go to pay the principal of our house. Thus we completed paying the mortgage the year I retired. This however, was not enough. We felt our nice colonial house with stairs going up to the bedrooms and down to the laundry, would present future challenges. So we began looking for a house on one level. We searched for two years without finding anything that suited us. Selma’s mother had died, and we felt that as her father aged, we needed to find a home where he could come and live with us, if necessary. Finally, in desperation, Selma spent a night intensely praying for God’s help. The next afternoon, as we were driving by a new development, we asked if there were any rambler homes being constructed. They said, there was one house available, because the person that had tried to buy it had

83 n a Brief MeMOir defaulted. We looked at it and knew immediately that this was the home for us. We returned the next day and signed the initial papers. With God’s help and Selma’s father’s inheritance, we were able to sell our home and pay for the new house free and clear.

When the housing market fell, we regularly thanked God for His help in keeping us mortgage-free and debt-free. Unfortunately, Selma’s father never came to live with us. He visited us but felt more comfortable in his own home in Avon Park, Florida. He disbursed his inheritance before his death at 100 years old. He taught us a lot about living simply and with complete faith in God. One of my goals upon retirement was to research the history of the Seventh-day Adventist (SDA) Church in Cuba, and write about the Colegio de las Antillas (CA) in Santa Clara, Cuba. I spent hours researching the Archives of the General Conference of SDA. I also wrote to many of the surviving students and teachers and asked them to send me their memories of CA. I was pleased with the enthusiastic response. I interviewed many, and gradually completed writing the manuscript. Colegio Amámoste was published in 2005 by Lithotech, at Andrews University, just in time for the General Conference Session in St. Louis. The Cuban attendees eagerly bought copies for themselves, their friends and relatives. I also sent copies to the Cuban Seminary; the Library of Andrews University, Michigan; Antillian University Library, Puerto Rico; the GC Library, IN Maryland; and Inca University Library, Perú. I was pleased by the many favorable responses to the book, Colegio Amámoste. It filled a vacuum of an era that was erased by the Cuban Revolution.

We went on our first retirement cruise in August, 2007. We had never been to Alaska, so we asked our friends, Dago and Nelly Castro to join us. We had not seen each other in several years, since the 2000 Teacher’s Convention in Dallas. I decided I did not want to look older than my best friend, so Selma colored my

84 n nOn OMnis MOriar hair brown. When we arrived at the Seattle Airport and met each other, we could not stop laughing. He also had dyed his hair brown to look younger than I. On that note we started an unforgettable vacation to Ketchikan, Juneau, Sitka, and down to Victoria, British Columbia, and the Butchart Gardens. We had so much fun that we decided to plan another trip together.

It would be one and a half years before our next cruise with Dago and Nelly. This time my sister Migdalia and Tomás came also. On February, 2009, we cruised to Key West and Cozumel, Mexico.

Our friendship had endured unblemished for more than five decades. We were able to reconnect as if it had been yesterday.

This vacation would be more memorable, because it would be the last one we were able to have together. A year later, Dago suddenly died on January 20, 2010.

Another enduring friendship has been that of Arne and Dolly Wasli. They invited us to spend a week with them at their timeshare in Cancún, Mexico, in February, 2008. It was a fantasy land of white beaches, sunshine and leisurely sightseeing. They were as gracious and hospitable as ever. Since then, they have come to visit us in Apopka, Florida, every February.

In 2008, the Potomac Conference of SDA asked us to teach English to several of the Spanish pastors in the area. We greatly enjoyed getting to know so many talented and hardworking pastors. For the next three years we taught English classes, and saw many of them develop greater language proficiency. José Espósito was the Spanish Coordinator of the Potomac Conference.

He developed a tremendous Spanish Church Center, called CEDA (Centro de Evangelismo y Discipulado Adventista), in Temple Hill, Maryland, which serves all the Hispanic churches in the Potomac Conference. Spanish pastors from 60+ churches meet weekly for training and fellowship there.

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86 n nOn OMnis MOriar For the General Conference Session of 2010, in Atlanta, I was again asked to organize an Alumni Reunion for all Cubans and friends. It was the highest attendance ever of any previous reunion.

Over 300 persons joined together for this nostalgic program.

Retirement has given me the chance to spend more time with family and friends. Thanks to my retirement, I was able to participate in the care of my youngest twin granddaughters, Isabelle and Abigail Touma. For four years, from 2004 until 2007, I went faithfully every morning for two or three hours to Lily’s house to help her with the twins. This gave her the opportunity to catch up on her chores each day. This period of time was a gift that allowed me to bond even more with my daughter and my granddaughters. Both Izzie and Abbie are very affectionate and happy. I have received a great payback in love from them.

Our oldest granddaughter, Chelsea Mastrapa, decided to spend her sophomore year in Sagunto, learning Spanish. In September, 2009, Selma and I were delighted to take our first granddaughter to Spain. Chelsea showed unusual poise and confidence on arrival, so after three days, we left her with new friends, and engrossed in her school routine. We had never been to the Balearic Islands, so we decided to visit Mallorca. We visited Valdemossa, where Chopin spend the winter composing, in the company of George Sand.

We also observed the environment that drew so many artists and writers, such as Robert Graves, to Mallorca.

My greatest rewards are undoubtedly my three children.

They have been the source of my happiness. Each graduated from Andrews University. From the time they were teenagers at Andrews Academy, they showed a commendable work ethic and worked their way through school. This has translated into respected professionalism in their chosen careers. They have also been very loyal and devoted to their family and to God. Lily is the oldest and a support to her brothers and to me,

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88 n nOn OMnis MOriar especially after the death of her mother. From early childhood, she was obedient and faithful in completing her schoolwork and her household chores. She kept her bedroom impeccably neat and beautiful. Her grandfather Antonio, used to enjoy visiting her room, just to look at how pretty it was. When she moved to Maryland, she worked first at the Columbia Union with my sister in law Daysee, working for AHHS and later for ADRA International as Director of the Donor Response Office. She was appreciated for her intelligence and organizational skills. Her efficiency and leadership abilities made her a favorite boss at ADRA. She trained many interns who still remember her fondly. When the twins were born, she used her talents to stay home and work as a full time mother and wife. Her husband Tony Touma, appreciates her gifts, and depends on her business acumen to manage the cash accounts of his Physical Therapy Clinic. She has been an affectionate and disciplined mother, and has taught her daughters to be loving and respectful. She loves her husband, and enjoys beautifying their home and garden. She is blessed with a wonderful husband, who is thoughtful, loving, spiritual, and very hospitable and generous.

Orly was born the day before his sister’s first birthday. Ever since, he has been a gift of love for Lily. He is enthusiastic and funloving. Almost every day, he calls me and stays in contact with his siblings. I appreciate his affectionate and thoughtful nature.

He is very sociable, and is loyal and faithful to his many friends.

He graduated with a Business degree and worked in that area for several years. Nevertheless, his love of people led him to retrain as an R.N. He is a very caring hospice nurse, who has a generous and compassionate heart. He loves being a nurse, and his patients love him. If I ever need a nurse, I hope I find one as wonderful as my son Orly.

HĂŠctor is the youngest, and the most independent. From his earliest years, he showed confidence and responsibility. He knew

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what he wanted, and he strove to achieve it. He loves sports and physical activities. He has been a devoted husband and father.

Chelsea and Emily will forever have good memories of their dad’s efforts and creativity in planning activities that the whole family could enjoy. His priority was always his family. He worked very hard to give his family everything they could want. As Vice President for Risk Management at Marriott Corporation, he has been rewarded with several significant promotions for his leadership, ability to get along with others, and problem solving skills.

I am very proud of my three children. They have been a gift from the Lord, and I love them dearly. I thank God every day for them, and pray that they will be faithful to their Creator, so that they may have health, happiness, and self-respect. I also thank God for Miriam and Selma. Miriam was the wife of my youth with whom I shared much happiness. I will always love her. Selma accepted me when I was broken by the loss of Miriam. She continues to accept me as I am. She brought me hope, and filled my heart with her understanding and love. She loves my children, and is a devoted grandmother to our very dear granddaughters. I love her very much. Her search for spirituality in all things has helped us both in our journey.

Looking back at my life I have learned that the Lord was guiding me all the way. I did not always understand why so many unexpected circumstances changed my life. Now I see that in spite of everything, God was with me even (no, specially) in the hardest times. Nothing happens that the Lord does not find a way to make it up to us, when we trust Him with complete faith. The past can never be redone or relived, but I can learn from it. God’s ways are always the best. So I can live today with confidence, knowing that the Lord will continue to guide me and you until the end.