Missive #21: A Good Man to Love You

As I have been saying, Cuba is a country of color and culture, of passion and vibrancy.

Everywhere and at all times, it is filled with music, art, and dance. And then there is all the natural beauty: the mountains, the hills, the waterfalls, the lakes, the rivers, the streams, the beaches, the forests, the caves, the palm trees, the tropical foliage, the crocodiles and the lizards, and the tricolored national bird, which determined the colors of the Cuban flag.

Highly reminiscent of the psychedelic buses of the '60s, Electric Cool-Aid Acid Test vintage…this is one of several Pastors for Peace buses, which are driven to Mexico and shipped to Cuba every year. 

The worst part of my time in Cuba is that I am constantly finding myself alone in adventuresome, fascinating, poignant, and improbably romantic situations, all of which are meant to be shared with a loved one. I sometimes feel guilty, like I am squandering these moments. I hate to admit to loneliness, especially when surrounded by such serenity and beauty, natural or cultural.

An impromptu dance party at the seminary.

The first of my daughters to marry will be celebrating her 7th wedding anniversary on April 2nd. That was the day Pope John Paul II died. His historic visit to Cuba before the turn of the century is probably the reason that I am able to live and work in Cuba today. His successor, Pope Benedict, is once again making history with his April 2 visit to Cuban soil to mark the 400th anniversary of the apparition of Cuba’s patron saint, la Virgen de la Caridad de Cobra, in the seas outside of Santiago de Cuba.

On April 1st, no fooling, my parents will be celebrating 61 years of marriage.
I am thankful for the love of my father for my mother.

This morning, I met a trombone player named Levis (“like the bluejeans,” he said) for an hour and a half for an impromptu English lesson. Levis is from my mother’s hometown of Cienfuegos. He told me that his best friend lives right by where my mother grew up, on the street San Carlos overlooking the central Parque Martí. I told him (in English, as part of our lesson) that my parents were married in the cathedral on that same square.

Marielys studying in the seminary Library.  I had just bought the painting that had hung in the far-left corner.

All of this reminds me that I should quit harping on my prayerful request for my students Marielys and her husband, Jesus, to conceive a child, and to just give thanks that they have one another.

Marielys and Jesus recently celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary. They have been “trying” for many years to have a baby. I have been praying for Marielys to become pregnant almost since the day I met her, on the first day of classes back in September 2011. She has been like a daughter to me, and her husband immediately began to call me his “segunda suegra” -- second mother-in-law. How many men do you know who would want one of those? And I cannot think of a better set of parents for a newborn child, besides my own daughters and the good men who love them.

One of the Cuban paintings I've purchased.

An aside: While living in Boston, between 1977 and 1983, I remember hearing (I think from Sheila Brock, the wife of my ex-husband's cousin) that the vast majority (more than 90 percent) of fatal car accidents took place within one mile of the place where the car was permanently parked, i.e., one’s primary residence. The reason for this is that people who are driving only a short distance from home often forget to fasten their seat belts.

This brings to mind the notion, if not the fact, that most people in the world live out their entire lives within a short radius of where they park their cars. This got me thinking about the people we are likely to encounter and meet for the first time throughout our lives. So, if we move and live and "park our cars" in different places in the world, those places may be where we are most likely to meet new people (or to die in a car accident).

I am thankful for the father of my firstborn child, Friedhelm Klein-Allermann, who loved me before and after our child was conceived in Germany, in 1975.

I am thankful for my first husband, Henry Hudson Barton V, the father of my beautiful, delightful, intelligent, talented, and loving four daughters, who loved me while I was carrying Friedhelm's child, in Philadelphia in 1976.

On my refrigerator is a picture of Jade and Logan.

I am thankful for my second husband, Ronald G. Rooney, who loved me from the time we first met, as teenagers, shortly after the Woodstock festival in August of 1969.

I am thankful for the three young men who love my three eldest daughters, two of whom are the fathers of my first four delightful grandchildren: Riley, Jade, and Logan Ostroff of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And Rory Slocum of San Francisco, California. I remind my Livia and her Chris that I await my first blue-eyed and/or redheaded grandchild.

I am thankful for my older sister Maria’s second husband, Crosby, who knew a treasure the moment he set eyes upon her.

And I am thankful in the peace and the knowledge that my youngest daughter will eventually also experience the love of a good man.

The following tripartite electronic conversation, between my two middle daughters, Ashley and Livia, and myself, reminded me, as I reminded them, that the love of a good man is a very precious thing for any woman. I am ever so thankful for the good men who love my daughters.

I wrote to Livia: "Could you send me another $1,000 please, along with the latest monthly [bank] statement? Thanks."

Livia replied to me and to Ashley: "Yes, I'm asking Ashley to send, since she has so much time on her hands to try to plan my wedding. :) Ash -- can you do this before you leave for the weekend?"

Ashley: "No, I was not able to do that before going away for the weekend. I will try to do it this week, but FYI, I do not have 'so much time on my hands,' as Livia apparently thinks. I have three kids under age 5, and you [Livia] have a dog. ;)"

And I have a cat. (This is one way to get him to open wide those gorgeous blue eyes of his.)

Livia: "Mom, do you have any money left? Sorry, I just don't think there is a place near me that takes the Cuban form. Ashley seems to have it all figured out."

Yours truly: "I’m not penniless yet but will need more before April 1. Sorry this is such a pain. Do you mean not all Western Unions will send money to Cuba?"

Ashley: "No. The only one is in North Philadelphia, on a very sketchy street. I cannot take the kids there; that is why it is so hard to get there."

Livia: "Hey, your kids go to school, while I have a full-time job. ;)"

Ashley: "They have school for two hours, two to three days a week, Liv. Just enough time to do laundry, pay bills, go grocery shopping, OR exercise. You try being me for a week and see how much you get done."

Livia: "Hahaha, you know I'm kidding!!! Let me know if you want me to find a way to do it or if you can. Mom, can we send you enough to take you through June?"

And I wrote to them both: "Yes, I think the $1,000 should be more than enough! I’ve just found a wonderful hotel with a pool and breakfast for $17 a night, and it’s right on the river between Matanzas and Varadero. I’ll be spending five nights there the first week of April. In Varadero, I can stay at a guest house with breakfast for $25 per night. And those are the only few larger expenses I should have between now and my departure. My ticket from Miami to Philadelphia I can purchase online using my Visa card. Love and thanks and quit arguing about stupid things like who works harder. Just be thankful you have good men to love you. Love, Mommy who knows best."

With love from Cuba,

Elisa
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Matanzas, Cuba