While I was a business administration student at the
University of Arkansas in the late fifties, there was an exciting story making
the Greek-house rounds about the son of one of South Arkansas’ oldest
families. This young man had dropped out
of school and gone to Key West where he was busy “running guns to Cuba” (gossip
jargon) in support of the charismatic Castro.
Those of us stuck in class were suitably impressed
by the daring adventure of one of our own. At the time I was the managing
editor of the campus newspaper but no word of this ever was published in our
paper….college newspapers at the time were not exactly living under freedom of information
rules except when the Dean allowed it.
(Apparently this approval policy in
media continues in the 21st century according to Sharyl Attkisson’s
book Stonewalled.)
Castro’s guerrilla warfare against a corrupt dictator was
highly romanticized during this era, but the tide of approval ebbed when
Castro’s true colors emerged as Red. What seemed a patriotic attempt to further
democracy by “running guns” turned out to be a dramatic mistake that eventually
threatened America’s national security.
By the time of Kennedy’s Bay of Pigs disaster and the missile
standoff with Khruschev in 1962, I was a young Catholic wife and mother with a baby
son living in Hope, Arkansas, where many of my bridge playing friends had
husbands called up to duty. It was a fearful time for all of us.
The next year my husband accepted a new job and we moved to
Little Rock. After my second child was
born in late 1963, I began teaching third grade at Holy Souls Catholic Elementary
where I met my first group of Cuban refugees and their children. The Catholic Church played a major role in
helping Cubans resettle in America after losing all their assets and
homes. Not all ended up living in Miami
and many of those families still live in Little Rock.
After experiencing as a college student the romanticized
versions of the Castro takeover in the late 1950s, my first hand experience with
the Cuban families resettling in Little Rock was a rude awakening to the true
story behind the Cuban revolution.
Those Cuban refugees from the late 1950s and early 1960s know
what the real situation is. Let us hope our government leaders are listening.
In 1962 our elementary school classes regularly drilled to crawl under our desks, or line up in the hallway, noses and raised arms and palms to the wall. We had no idea that Russian nuclear missiles were being stockpiled in Cuba, nor that the US and USSR powers were in a stand-off which came close to blowing us all to smithereens. The drills were not scary and, now armed with the understanding of how futile these elementary drills were, they seem to have been insultingly silly. In the 15 minutes from dispatch to impact, it would have made more sense for our teachers to have group hugged as many of us as possible.
ReplyDeleteGroup hugging would have been a better option! Thanks for commenting...
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