We don't write papers, we build scrapbooks
Recently, while on vacation in Florida, I went with a friend to an auto mechanic shop where he was getting his car repaired. The owner was an amiable guy and quite chatty. As he worked, he told his life story - which I found quite fascinating. He immigrated to the United States from Cuba in 1967 when he was ten years old. He said his family’s name was entered into some kind of lottery and they came up winners. They were flown to Miami first, and from there they went to Brooklyn, New York where his aunt lived.
His family lived in the country in Cuba where they had a farm with 40 beef cows and h...
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