Kid In Exile
"Did everyone bring their Kleenex?" I asked as we took our seats at the Tower Theater last night for the Freedom Flights documentary "My Suitcase Full of Hope" premiere.
"Kleenex? For what?" Dad boasted. He sat in between Mom and me, squeezing his heavy frame into the theater seat. "I'm not going to cry. I've got nothing to cry about."
The lights flickered, folks scurried to their seats and folks from the film's sponsors - WPBT Channel 2, our local PBS affiliate and The Miami Herald - came up to say a few words about the film and introduce filmmaker Joe Cardona.
Joe thanked the sponsors and those who helped put this documentary together, said a few words about the film and thanked the families he'd interviewed for allowing him into their homes and hearts and making feel like he was part of each family and right at home.
After a brief technical delay, the film rolled and the theater crowd grew silent.
It's difficult to describe what I felt as the credits ran. I think, maybe, I had put thinking about my feelings aside and concentrated on what my mother and father were feeling at this particular moment. I mean, here they were sitting at the Tower Theater on Calle Ocho, arguably the center of their recently arrived exile hub, forty years after their arrival, with their family - middle age son and daughter and adult grandchildren sitting among them, about to watch a film essentially about them.
As we all sat there, waiting for a film that told a brief instance of their life's story to begin, what were my Mom and Dad thinking about?
Were they thinking about what they were going to look like on the big screen? Were they trying to remember what they had been asked and how they responded in front of the camera?
Or was my father thinking about his time in a Cuban prison or his time spent under disgusting, inhumane conditions in la agricultura - the cane fields - that he was forced into simply because he wanted his family to live in freedom? Was my mother thinking about those almost three years she was forced to live apart from my father, with a daughter and new born baby boy, as her husband toiled in the fields?
Or were they remembering what they felt like, what their lives were like as recently arrived exiles? Was my old man recollecting his first few days in America, not knowing the culture, not understanding the language, completely at a loss to where we would end up and what he had to do right then and there to start life anew in a new country?
The film finally began, I patted my old man on the leg to make sure he was OK. I looked at him, he looked at me. "I am fine," he said, answering the question which I didn't get to ask.
There are many many moving moments in this documentary, most of which, if you know me, had me watching it through tears. And Mom and Dad were alright for the most part. I know there were stories told that moved them, that tugged at their heartstrings, but neither of them broke down. It is, after all, their story and others' similar to them that this film tells.
They didn't have to see it on the big screen. They lived it. It's in them.
My Old Man's emotional demise - at least, the first moment where what he was feeling got the better of him - came with the brief shot of a simple, old photograph:
That's my grandfather, my father's father-in-law. The man who took my Dad's roll as father here in the early exile years while Dad was out working two, three jobs, to give me a better life. It was my grandfather - El Primo -who took me to ballgames. Who walked me to and from school. Fed me my meriendas. It was my abuelo who answered my little boy questions and gave me the talks reserved for fathers and sons. My father sacrificed those father and son things for his son.
My grandfather's picture came on the screen and Dad and I blurted out sobs in unison. We held each other's hand and fought to hold back more tears.
"Coño," we both said softly under our breaths. "El Primo."
I could write volumes about last night's premiere, but I wont. I don't want to give anything away or give you an impression of this film. You just have to see it for yourself.
Everyone involved in this film deserves much gratitude. It is a labor of love as much as it is a documentary film.
My Suitcase Full of Hope: The Story of the Cuban Freedom Flights premieres tomorrow night on WPBT Channel 2 at 8 PM here in South Florida. Channel 2 will undoubtedly be running a pledge drive tomorrow night during the film, and since it is your donations that make films like Suitcase possible, please consider becoming a member and purchase the DVD of this film. For those of you outside the South Florida area, you can contact WPBT right here through their membership/donation page and ask about My Suitcase Full of Hope.
It is our story, the story of hundreds of thousands of Cubans and Cuban families and one that must be kept alive.
What an incredible day for you and your family, Val. And what an important reminder, to us, to our peers, to anyone with a head and a heart, what a sacrifice our parents made nearly 50 years ago. They truly are made of 'acero inoxidable' as my grandfather used to say: Stainless Steel.
Is there any way that those of us in the hinterlands can watch this online? I looked but couldn't find anything.
I cannot write with the eloquence that my uncle Val can, but I will try to express my emotions, as the granddaughter/daughter/niece of Cuban exiles, as best as I can. I know my uncle has mentioned before that he started this blog to expose my sister, my brother, and I to Cuba… to his Cuba… to the Cuba my family left so many years ago… the Cuba that lives in their hearts now and will live in the hearts of my siblings and our future generations. Last night was amazing. The film had me crying from the opening credits to the moment the lights came back on. As part of the first generation of the Prieto Family to be born in the US, my vision of Cuba is limited to my family’s memories. I have never walked through the parks that they speak of, or visit the beaches they called the most beautiful, or visited the theater where my Uncle Ismael worked, but after watching Joe’s film and watching my grandparents watching themselves on the big screen, I felt like I had visited all those places. I finally had images to accompany the stories. It was as if I was no longer sitting next to my grandparents at the Tower Theater in Miami, Florida, but was part of the black and white pictures flashing on the screen.
I had the privilege of living with my grandparents for a few years during my early twenties. I witnessed their daily routines, Abuela cooking and Abuelo washing the dishes. I watched them in their recliners watching the novelas. I watched their glee when my sister arrived with their first great grandchild. I’ve watched them get in to fights, as happens when you live with someone for over 50 years, and make up. I’ve watched them get all dressed up to go to the mall or go to the movies or out to dinner with friends. I’ve watched Abuela sweep and mop the house while old Cuban Music played in the background. I’ve watched Abuelo get up early every morning, make Cuban coffee and take to Abuela while she will still in bed. I’ve watched them for years, and it wasn’t until last night that I actually SAW them. For the first time, I didn’t watch them as my grandparents, but SAW them as people. I SAW what made them who they are and what lead me to be who I am.
As the youngest girl in the family, the single one with no kids, I have always feared that once I do get married and have kids; my grandparents will no longer be with us. I fear that my children will never be able to meet my grandparents, their GREAT grandparents (GREAT as people not great in terms of family tree/generations). I will forever be grateful to Joe (and his team) for capturing my family’s experiences on film so that I can share it with my children one day, so that my children can one day understand why they get to live in the Land of the Free and why their family was forced to leave Paradise. By witnessing this amazing couple on the screen, they will learn that challenges only make you stronger. That no one can tell you what you can do. They will learn that my Grandfather is the strongest man they will ever know (even if only through stories, pictures, and film) and that my Grandmother’s love for her family allowed her to raise the children alone for years in hopes that she could one day provide them a better future.
Thank you Joe for putting my grandparents on film
Thank you Uncle Val for allowing them to live forever through your words
Thank you God for the honor of being a Prieto
Maura
Maura,
You just completely pulverized me.
Val-I didn't mean to pulverize....
It was a special night - your parents were adorable! Yes, their story provided some tears, but also the best laughs and the most applause. Thanks for the invite, we were happy to be there.
Maura,
I was sitting here at the office weeping like a baby. Forwarded the comment to Joe Cardona waited a minute or two and called him up. he was in tears as well.
beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
Thanks Val.
Val,
I guess that the Kleenex bill at the Prieto’s household for this month will go through the roof...LOL
Please let me know when a DVD becomes available.
Maura,
That was a beautiful, heartfelt, wonderful post that describes how much you love your grandparents.
Please treasure your grandparents while they’re still alive and forever thank them for the courage they had to take their families out of Cuba.
In your family you’re first generation Cuban-American born in the great USA thanks to them.
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