The Cuba, I Remember

With all the talk and publicity of late, relating to the opening of diplomatic relations between the United States and Cuba, my mind wanders back to the memories that I have of Cuba. I remember the carefree days, as a child, before the days of Fidel Castro.

I remember being with my father walking through the rows of tobacco. I was about six years old at the time. My father was a giant of a man to me then. But he seemed smaller when he stood in between the tall tobacco, which stood about six to seven feet tall. We would walk through the fields so that my father could inspect the plants for bugs or other problems that could hurt the crops.

To this date, I can remember the blue skies with just a few white clouds. The warmth of the sun shining down on us, we thrived on the heat. Our skin was always tan because we worked in the fields from sunrise to sunset.

We would find time to hunt in the valley, it was lush and green. We would fish in the blue-green crystal clear water, always bringing home only what we needed.

We spent most of our time on the plantation, but, on the weekends we would head to the beach. My family and extended family would all meet up at the beach house. The house was up on stilts, and when the tide would roll out, my cousins and I would pick up the crabs left uncovered and put them in a basket. They would be cooked, and we would all gather outside at the picnic tables to enjoy our feast. There we would eat, talk and laugh. Those were the good days of the Cuba, I remember.

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