December 1, 1965, was the day marking the beginning of an exodus from communist Cuba that changed millions of lives, including mine.
Here is what I wrote in 2017 on the Freedom Flights:
It was one of the seminal moments in the Cuban exile experience in the United States: The Freedom Flights from Cuba to America that allowed thousands of Cubans to escape the communist tyranny of the Castro dictatorship and seek refuge in the U.S. It was because of these Freedom Flights that both my maternal and paternal grandparents were able to escape communist Cuba.
Without these flights, I would have never met my grandparents. I would have never tasted my maternal abuela’s incredibly delicious picadillo and the dulce de harina she used to make or heard her hilarious jokes and infectious laughter. I would have never learned to tinker on cars with my maternal abuelo or take that walk to the corner store with my paternal grandfather to buy his tabaco (cigar) for the day. Without these flights, I would not have the vision seared in my memory of my paternal grandmother standing before a stove diligently stirring the arroz con leche with one hand while her other hand rested on the hip of her tall and slim figure for what seemed like hours.
The Freedom Flights meant not only freedom for thousands of Cubans, it was also an emotional reuniting of families. Families who had been separated for years as well as families who met for the first time. The Freedom Flights allowed these families to be together once again in freedom.