My parents and I left our home in Cuba for the United States when I was 8 years old. We departed with one suitcase each, nothing more. The great fear on departure was that suitcases were searched, and the authorities could take anything from you on a whim. In my suitcase I had some summer clothes, which would prove inadequate for arriving in NYC in October 1966; I also packed my doll and her clothes. My older brother and sister had been sent ahead of us to the U.S., but complications in Cuba kept my parents and me from being able to join them for 5 long, painful years. We did not know each other when we were reunited at JFK airport in 1966-my brother was 16 and my sister was 17. I also started attending school for the first time then and did not speak English when I started school.
