Fifty-one years ago tonight in Cuba, the dictator Batista fled, only to be replaced by a more despicable tyrant.
That story, unfortunately, continues to be told on the streets of Havana and in the prison cells of the Castro gulag. Hopefully, 2010 will bring, finally, an end to this sad, torturous chapter of Cuban history.
Tonight, though, I choose to remember that on that same evening that Batista got the word that he was done, my grandfather and his brothers got on a boat and left for Key West, Fla.
They, too, were fleeing whatever Castro had planned for them, but with their landing on America, they started the history of my family in the United States.
For them and for that, I am very grateful, and ever more determined that the freedom we have enjoyed and taken full advantage of in this country for 51 years, will again be shared by our brothers and sisters and cousins in Cuba.
God bless my grandfather and his brothers.
God bless America.
And God bless a free Cuba.
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