I'm very sorry for your loss, Laz.
I mentioned in an earlier post that I have a friend who works on a cruise ship based out of Honolulu. His family lives in Miami, so he's home between assignments.
I knew that he has to be back at work on the ship by this weekend, so I called to wake him up when I saw Wilma's progress overnight. I figured he'd want to call his airline right away and switch to an earlier flight before everyone else got the same idea.
He didn't seem to take me seriously, though. He's one of those "manana" type men, and me, I'm the type of person who wants everything done yesterday. "Let's see what happens" is his mantra. I felt I was like Linda Greenlaw screaming at Billy Tyne in "The Perfect Storm."
Oh well, I hope he brings plenty of extra cartridges for his Nintendo system -- I have a feeling he's going to spend the weekend camped out in the airport, sigh...
Thank you.
I could probably write a book about my family's adventures. Both my parents are from Cuba, and they fled to the US in '61. I was born in NYC in '62. My father was a radio announcer in Cuba and originally supported Castro and worked with him, then turned against him when he found out Castro was a communist. Castro's people almost killed him. My mother's family had to hide my father in their basement for weeks until he was able to sneak out and go to Jamaica. From Jamaica, he went to Miami, where he met with CIA and told them everything he knew about Castro. From Miami, he went to Boston, then finally to New York. My mother fled via Jamaica a few months later and met up with him in New York.
Over the past forty years, about half my family has made it to the US, including an aunt and uncle who came in '80 with the Marielitos. Thankfully, only one member has died making the attempt.