He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother

The bond Cubans share on and off the island through the generations has been in the fore the past few days. The entrepreneurial bent evident in those who fled to the United States is so characteristic of the Cuban spirit that the assumption Raul is going to convert to one currency has led to an outbreak of money exchanges on the island. People are changing money on the speculation that the peso will rise. En el medio de la inopia, they think like Soros. Have to love my people. Unleash them, and we’ll see about third world country.
Then there have been the remembrances for the Brothers to the Rescue pilots. This one I find particularly touching. In Cienfuegos, in Santa Clara, in Havana and other places, ceremonies were held to mark the day that the four were murdered in cold blood. Flowers were set adrift in the sea; a condolence book was started; a commemorative banner was displayed; and speeches were made. Each link represents a different report on Misceláneas de Cuba. Of all of the tributes on February 24th, I suspect these would have been the most precious to those who lost their lives.
I think those left behind know that whatever our differences in approach, in the face of their abandonment by the world, we have remained faithful. We, very nearly alone, have stood up for their dignity and their rights as human beings these long years. Would the aging prelate would have done the same. But then, he’s not Cuban.