
On Tuesday, August 21, 1962, my friend Enrique Rodriguez drove me to the International Airport Jose Marti in Havana, Cuba. It was ten o’clock in the morning. I intended to leave the country for good. I was 28 years old. It was the beginning of a new life. Or was it going to be the end of my life? I was trying to leave Cuba. I was trying to escape. I knew the way the country was going. I had two choices join and become a communist automaton, fight back and possibly die or go to prison for thirty years. I fought back and lost. I had to escape or die. I had a passport and an expired student visa to the USA. Through my contacts in the underground, I obtained a fraudulent student visa. I could not go any other way. Cuba is an island. You either try to cross the Gulf of Mexico in a small boat, challenge the elements, or take your chances trying to fool the G2 Secret Service guys (trained by the German Stasi). Fat change, right?
I waved goodbye to Enrique, entered, and walked the long airport hall until I reached Gate 7. It was a room with glass walls with two doors: two tables and folding chairs. I was the first one to enter. I was not allowed to carry any personal belongings, no money. The only thing I was taking with me was a copy of René Descartes’s Discourse on Method.
One of the agents waved me in. I stood in front of him. He was sitting down. At that time, he was a young man like me: fair complexion, about 5 feet 10 inches, green eyes, light brown hair — long fingers with manicured nails. A crisp white linen shirt was concealing an automatic 45 caliber pistol. He looked at me with absolute indifference. He asked me to let him see my book and my passport. I did. He browsed through it and gave it back to me. And then he opens my passport. He looked at my picture, back at me, and at the stamped visa. Then without looking at me, he said, lowering his voice: “This is a fraudulent visa. How much do you pay for it?”
“You know this is a fraudulent visa, I know it, and you know it too. If you have ever experienced mortal fear, you know what I am talking about. I said this is a free student visa I obtained from the USA embassy two years ago. It was free. Then he said in a lower tone of voice and without looking at me: Listen, you know, so do I. He stamps the passport with the approval seal. And said: “Get the hell out of here.”
Unknown Young Man, this is for you. I do not know whether you are dead or alive. But I want you to know that there is not a single day of my life that I don’t pray for you. Thank you.
I am an American citizen. I have always been treated with kindness and given a fair chance to obtain via working very hard what I have today. I went to and graduated from the University of Illinois and HarvardX. Married, got two sons. I have two grandchildren. They are graduating from Highschool. My sons earned college degrees and are working hard in their respective careers. I am a Neuroplasticity practitioner. Brain Trainer Coach. Cochlear Implant Cognitive Rehabilitation
Thank Unknown Young Man. God bless you and your family!
Dear reader, look at the neuroscience connected with all of this.
File: Peder Mønsted — Portræt af ung mand I matrostøj — 1929.png From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository
