I could give this eulogy in the 8 words that my Dad would always say to me during any major event in my life: “Whatever you do, be happy and enjoy life.” He repeated those words at every graduation (grammar school; high school; college and law school); when I was learning to ski in high school; when he and my Mom would send me backpacking through Europe every summer; when I got my first job as a lawyer; when I purchased my home; when I brought Andrew home; at my wedding last year; and when he asked to talk to me alone two months before he died.
My Dad lived a fascinating life – the third oldest of 9 children, he and his two oldest brothers were born in Cuba – his mother was from Jamaica and his father was from Spain (working in Cuba as many Spaniards did at the turn of the last century). My grandparents went back to Spain-the homeland- when my father was 7 and he was raised and lived in Spain until he was 21. He helped raise his 6 younger siblings. He learned how to swim and cliff dive into the North Atlantic in Galicia, Spain. At age 21 he and a friend stowed away in the engine room of a cargo ship to America. Half way on the trip they were discovered, arrested and were going to be sent back to Spain. When they arrived in New York, my Dad the cliff diver jumped into the icy Hudson River in November. He was eventually caught and arrested in NY and sent to Ellis Island. Somehow, he ended up being shipped to Cuba.
In Cuba, the fun began for my Dad. My father only had a third grade education but loved to read and was very street smart. In Cuba, he went to the country side and learned the agriculture business working for a farmer, but started a separate business raising his own chickens and selling them on the side. My Dad loved the idea of making money and apparently did well with his chicken business. After the agriculture experience, he was offered a job where he could make even more money – fishing and selling sharks off the shark infested waters of Eastern Cuba. After he made enough cash, he went to Havana…the Big City. He did construction for a while working on a tunnel in Havana. This was limiting for him, so he decided to use his cash to start playing the numbers and placing bets on the race track and eventually started his own “government-sanctioned” gaming company. It was “government sanctioned” since the police, military elite and several judges were on his payroll. With all the extra cash he became a “banker,” lending money at extremely high interest rates…we “in America” call it loan sharking. He was involved with my older brother’s mother at this time and the first Enrique was born. Now by the late 1950’s he had built up quite a reputation, and he was nicknamed in Havana “Al Capone”…being chauffeured by his body guard. He was a tough businessman but loved to eat, drink and dance and enjoyed life. He was an avid reader, especially of history, and had read the Bible three times cover to cover (twice in Spanish and once in English). My Dad also loved to engage in conversations with everyone and anyone. He loved meeting new people and made friends very easily. This “Al Capone” of Havana was the guy you went to if you needed a favor.
He got together with my mom in 1956 and they were married in March, 1957. Coincidently, he had actually met my mom a few times prior to this: for the first time in the late 1940’s when she was 13 and he was learning the agriculture business since the farmer he worked for just happened to be my mom’s uncle. Then she met him for the second time when she was 15 with one of his many, many, many girlfriends. Then they finally met for the third time in 1956 and married a year later.
As tough and ruthless as he was as a businessman, he also was generous and loving to his family, friends and anyone he felt needed help. He became the benefactor to my Mom’s entire family and to those who needed help he was always willing to give money and do favors.
The Castro revolution occurred the year I was born in 1958 and instead of leaving Cuba, my Dad of course figured out how to make money under Castro until 1964. My little brother (the second Enrique) was born in 1962. My Dad also became a counter-revolutionary and started an anti-Castro radio station. He was arrested in 1963. My mom thought he was dead after being taken away for 3 months without a trace. He paid his way out of jail since he still knew all the judges and government officials and when he showed up at our house he told my mom he decided it was time to flee Cuba. The Catholic Church helped him take his money out and we fled to Mexico, then crossed the Rio Grande in Texas and ended up in New Jersey.
He started a construction company in NJ and he focused his life on my Mom, and making sure my little brother, Rick, and I received the best Catholic education possible.
He was a tough Dad, scary at times, forcing me to always excel in school but promised to pay for my education as long as I wanted and as long as I got good grades. He never denied me anything I asked…whether it was for school or skiing or parties with my friends or anything else he thought would bring me happiness. My dad and my mother gave me the most profound gift that parents can give--the feeling deep down inside that I am loved. My father respected, admired, and most importantly always trusted me and my decisions. I take that trust seriously and perhaps the best tribute I can give--the best way for me to keep his spirit alive--is to honor and express all his trust in me and live in a way that would continue his essence and make him proud.
May God Bless my Dad, and as he would say to me I ask each of you, Whatever you do, be happy and enjoy life.
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