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This September 3rd will be a very special anniversary for the Sanchez family. For the Sanchez family, who have been in America for 61 years, this is a day to celebrate being free in the greatest country ever.
September 3rd, 1962 has a special meaning in my family. It’s a day my mother, brother and I will never forget. It was the day my mother, my two brothers, and I left Castro’s socialist Cuban oppression and won the freedom of the United States. This year marks the 61st anniversary of that day.
My father fled Cuba in 1961 on a freighter bound for Spain to escape the communists who were after him.
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My mother stayed with me and my two older brothers, Juan, who became the owner of the house when I was 10, and Guillermo, who was 9, in the house my mother and father built in the suburbs of Havana. The thugs from the Cuban Revolutionary Army came day and night to harass her mother.
Alex Sanchez with his two brothers, 1962 (Courtesy of Alex Sanchez)
They called her name and shouted that she would soon lose her home and that we were traitors to the communist revolution. The two brothers were always by her mother’s side whenever the soldiers came, helping her and standing strong.
My parents taught me that freedom should never be taken for granted, it should be cherished, fought for, and shared.
When Castro closed all Catholic schools across the country, my mother pulled my two brothers out of public school. My mother didn’t want her sons to go to public school where they were being taught by the communists to believe that Fidel was supreme and that there was no God.
After only a few months in Spain, my father was eventually granted political asylum in the United States and soon had the paperwork to leave on Freedom Flight, arranged by President Kennedy for a Cuban family seeking freedom. started creating. US.
waiting to see you again
When I was little, I often asked my mother where my daddy was. She always replied that we would meet again soon, but he was always close to my heart. Not long after her father began working to move our family out of Cuba, my mother, who told me this story, finally received good news that she could leave Cuba with her three sons.
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For months she has been fighting the communist government of Cuba to allow my oldest brother, Juan, to leave the country with us. (The Cuban government wanted Juan to stay because he was 10 and could soon begin military training and communist indoctrination.) My mother won. She’s a tough woman when she has to.
Alex Sanchez and family in New York City, 1963
Now she’s 92 and loves America with all her heart. When she woke up on the morning of September 3, 1962, she had no idea what would happen to her family and me that day.
She had a few family photos, a dress and one outfit for each of her three sons, all packed into one small suitcase.
The Communist government did not allow us to leave the country with money, jewelry, or any other belongings, but only one small suitcase for four people.
That day was one of mixed emotions for my mother. On the one hand, she wanted to reunite with her husband in the United States so that she could raise her three children freely. Cuba had become a country without freedom of religion and speech, a country of oppression.
Alex Sanchez with his mother and brother, 1962.
On the other hand, she was leaving the hometown she loved and never expected to leave. She would also leave herself with her parents in her old age. Brothers and sisters do not know if they will ever meet again.
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That morning, my mother, brother, and I stepped out of the house for family friend Pepe to drop us off at the airport for the 1:00 p.m. Cubana flight to Miami. When my grandparents hugged and kissed us, my mother hugged my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters. This will be the last time in my life. You can’t even imagine the experience.
As we sat in the backseat of the car, my mother would sit back and peer out the back window to say goodbye to her parents, family and friends. After being searched by Cuban soldiers, we boarded a plane and were on our way to freedom. One of the few things I remember seeing the ground below as the plane took off.
Fidel Castro, who died in 2016, maintained an iron grip on Cuban politics for almost 50 years and led the country for nearly 50 years. (Getty Images)
Arrival in USA
We arrived in Miami just before 2pm and were immediately taken through immigration at the Freedom Tower (formerly Miami News) building on Biscayne Boulevard), where we received medical injections, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. The US government made us stay at the Tamiami Hotel in downtown Miami for the next two nights.
On September 5th, we boarded a plane to New York City to reunite with my father. When I got off the plane at LaGuardia Airport, my father was waiting for me. He cried and hugged his mother, brother and me.
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Years later, my brother Juan said that he saw Daddy crying for the first time. Our family was reunited in freedom.
live freely
Less than 30 days after we arrived in the US, the Cuban Missile Crisis began, canceling all Freedom flights out of Cuba.
World data locator map, Cuba. (Photo credit: Encyclopedia Britannica/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)
My family never considered or even wanted to leave Cuba, but my parents accepted political asylum in this great country and have always been grateful that America extended its reach to Cuba. I was grateful.
My father had a deep love for America, and my mother still does. They never protested any policy of this country and always obeyed the laws of the country.
For the first few years of our arrival, they considered themselves guests, but as the years went by and the prospect of returning to their beloved Cuba waned, they proudly became American citizens. Years later, I was enlisted in the military to say thank you to America.
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My parents never accepted any form of welfare or assistance. They both worked the simplest jobs imaginable around the clock to support their children.
My mother was a homemaker in Cuba, but here she worked in a factory in the Bronx that made plastic coolers and bags.
Wide angle view of Havana city skyline from “El Morro” on a cloudy day. Both places are famous tourist destinations in the Caribbean. (Photo credit: Roberto Machado Noa/LightRocket, Getty Images)
My father started working as a maintenance worker at the Incarnation Catholic Church in Manhattan and worked in Merrill Lynch’s night cleaning office.
They never complained or asked “Why me?” We lived a comfortable middle-class lifestyle in Cuba until Castro’s communist revolution confiscated all private property and everything fell apart.
My parents taught me that freedom should never be taken for granted, it should be cherished, fought for, and shared.
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Even if you’ve had a “bad hair day,” just remembering your parents’ experiences can help you put things into perspective.
Words cannot express how grateful I am to my parents and this great country, the United States, and I look forward to celebrating this special day for our family.
