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Learning to Die in Miami: Confessions of a Refugee Boy 

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Some of my readers tell me that I am two authors: one a historian of late medieval and early modern European religious history, who writes books laden with footnotes, and the other a memoirist who has written about his life in Cuba and in exile.

My dual identity is a result of my life history. I'm a Cuban exile. In 1962, at the age of eleven, my parents sent me to the United States, as part of the so-called Pedro Pan airlift, which offered 14,000 Cuban children a chance to escape the totalitarian soul-crushing regime of Fidel Castro. After three and a half years of bouncing from one foster home to another, my mother was finally allowed to leave Cuba, and I was reunited with her in Chicago. My father remained trapped in Cuba, and I never saw him again.

Scholarship became my intellectual and spiritual refuge from life as an exile, and, at the same time, my means of understanding it. Having lived through a violent revolution, it is no accident that I chose to specialize in the religious, social, and political upheavals of the age of the Reformation (1450-1700). Having perceived at an early age that modern politics is not much different from religion, insofar as political movements are guided by sets of beliefs and established through rituals and symbols, and lists of "correct" beliefs, it is also no accident that I gravitated to religious history.

My two writing styles are different, as one might expect, but I only have one voice, and one goal in mind when I write, which is to make the past come alive, and to help my readers see that there is always more to be perceived than what meets the eye, both in the past and in the present.

Up until the year 2000, my writing was strictly professional, and limited to the demands of my teaching posts: before joining the Yale faculty in 1996, I taught at St. John's University in Minnesota and the University of Virginia, and spent two years at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. But in 2000, driven nearly insane by the ignorant and offensive way in which the North American news media dealt with all things related to Cuba, I ended up writing my own eyewitness account of the Cuban Revolution. I meant to publish it as fiction, but thanks to a very wise editor, it ended up on the shelves as what it really was: a memoir, and perhaps the best piece of history I have penned to date.

Much to my surprise, "Waiting for Snow in Havana" (Free Press, 2003) not only became a best-seller, but also won the National Book Award in nonfiction for 2003, and ended up being translated into thirteen languages. It has also brought me the highest honor of all: having all of my work banned by the Castro regime, and being declared an enemy of their state.

The two of me are currently working on three different projects. In 2009 the "professor" published "A Very Brief History of Eternity" with Princeton University Press, a scholarly book that seeks to address a broad audience. The "professor" is also nearly finished with a survey history of the Reformation, to be published by Yale University Press, and researching the history of attitudes towards miracles in the sixteenth and seventeenth century. The "writer" has just published another memoir, "Learning to Die in Miami", which covers his first four years in exile, (Free Press, 2010).

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Learning to Die in Miami: Confessions of a Refugee Boy

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Learning to Die in Miami: Confessions of a Refugee Boy [Eire, Carlos] on Amazon.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Learning to Die in Miami: Confessions of a Refugee Boy

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Eire was an orphanage and immigrant boy who was new to America, new to his home, and new to his school. He faced some challenges like having to learn English and meeting someone that would at least be like him. One thing about the book Learning to Die in Miami was that he had to explore the relationship between parents and children. After he was separated from his parents, Carlos said, “We had letters, yes, but letters are a very poor substitute for parents when you're eleven…children need to press the flesh and to have mom and dad there..." -(Quote: 1) (Source!)

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To begin with, as we all know that Eire is an Orphanage boy who was an immigrant in America and was new to everything which made it hard for him to understand much of what everyone would talk about but he also was sent to Catholic school and was there for several years "Thou shalt not have any dirty thoughts.' I'd already had several years of Catholic schooling, after all, and learned all there was to learn about sin." (p:6)-(Quote: 2), This also shows us that Carlos is born as a religious boy.

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Eire is a Cuban boy but was raised in America where he was later on adopted, and as a Cuban kid that is raised in America he was proud that he was raised and taken there because of how safe it is and in addition, he wishes he was American in the first place "Damn it. Damn it. it's not fair, at all,""I thought. why couldn't this be my place of birth? So I decided, right there and then at that rinky-dink store, that I'd become an American and forget about being Cuban, at least for the time being" (pg: 19)-( Quote: 3).

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To begin with, Eire sometimes will feel that he's no where because he is adopted but when he starts noticing he starts reminding himself that hes there and is home with a mom and a dad and others with him, and that they won't ever leave him behind or let him go, "I'm there and not there all at once. I'm home. Home. I've always been here and always will be, and there is no void. None at all. The void is exposed for what it is: nothing. And against this fullness and Light there can be no void of any kind, no Absence, no darkness, no Unrequited Love. And time is stripped of its hypnotic power, and in this eternal Now there is no longing, no pain, no guilt of any kind, only pure love that seems like annihilation, but is just its opposite..." (pg: 29)-(Quote:4). As we all saw, this quote shows us how much he is appreciative to be in a home and get love.

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In this part of the book, Eire is talking about how he doesn't need a mom or dad because he can go off by himself without anyone "Adults can get by on letters, or even have better relationships with each other through letters than by living together, but children need to press the flesh and to have Mom and Dad there, day in, day out. Without that sort of contact, Mom and Dad become ciphers, mere concepts. And once they become that, you can kiss Mom and Dad good-bye for good. You Don't really need them. And you immediately learn that you don't need any other blood relations either, especially if they, too, are out of the picture" (Pg:44) -(Quote: 5).

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As we all know, Eire is not an america so he didn't really know English much as he did know Spanish, but his friend Aaron helped him learn English, and also because no one in his family spoke Spanish which made it easier and faster for him to learn English which by June he was fluent in English "I had an advantage over most of the kids in that class. When I went home, no one spoke Spanish. So I learned English very, very quickly. By the time June rolled around and school was over, I was already fluent.... Aaron helped me overcome my fear of seeming foolish, which is always the greatest obstacle in learning how to use a new language" (p: 55)-(Quote: 6).

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Eire's Parents are very religious so they make him read religious books, and so they got him a book and said it would answer any questions he had, but Eire doesn't want to read these books he wants to read books about his country Cuba because he loves his country. " I should have been reading the only book the Cuban authorities had allowed me to bring along on my journey, the awful book chosen by my parents: The imitation of Christ, written by Thomas a Kempis in the fifteenth century and translated into Spanish by Juan Eusebio Nieremberg in the seventeenth. But I couldn't read that depressing book any more than I could have pounded nails into my own hands and feet or rammed a crown of thorns onto my head" (p:73)- "My parents had told me that the book would always answer whatever questions I had..." (p:74)-( quote: 7). (Source!)

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Ramiro tells Eire that the animals he used to live with had a better life than people right now which explains that things got worse over time and as today they are getting worse. "You know, when I was a little boy, living in this house, the animals had a nicer life than we did." I begin to understand the whole migration deal, the search for greener and warmer pastures in the Caribbean" (p: 81)-( Quote:8).

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The way Eire explains he is all alone, and is just off by himself is like being in a void and abandoned all by himself with no one there to think about him, care about him, or even be there with him. The explanation of him being in void and abandon sets us off with a good example of how he feels without any parents. "Much as I hated to admit, though, sometimes kept my life from being perfect. It was something totally irrational: that feeling I'd first experienced on my first morning at the camp in Florida City. The feeling to be utterly alone and abandoned forever, of being stuck with no one but myself for eternity. The Void" (p: 91) -(Quote: 9).

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As we all know, Eire is not an American so he gets asked a lot of questions even weird ones where they ask "What was it like to wear shoes for the first time when you go to America?" "You had toilet in Cuba? Television? Hospital? Cars? Pants?" "What's it like to ride on donkeys all the time?" "How'd you learn to read so quickly, if you just got here?" (p:99-100)-( Quote:10). These questions all tell us that having someone from another country can be very interesting to Americans on the things you could do back in your country.

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In Cuba we have Christmas no matter what  

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In Cuba we have Christmas no matter what  

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In Cuba no matter what circumstances Christmas never failed to make someone happy or even be canceled because Christmas is as we all know is a big role to the Christians, and especially that he lives in an American house so now he actually gets to feel the Christmas spirit and have a Christmas tree, and light, and presents, and have time with his family. (Source!)

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Eire has got over the fact that he has parents back in Cuba ever since he got adopted from an American family, and he also doesn't care much about them because of the fact that they left him, and made him feel abandon and lonely so he made up his mind to just forget about them even though it could be hard to forget about the mother that brought you and had hard times.

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Eire has always had interest in the movie Spartacus, and not only did he like the movie Spartacus but the whole Palace Ricardo were also interested with that film, though it was a while until it finally came out because it was about the revolution so they thought they couldn't put it up because of the police, but then it came out when the revolution failed.

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Eire and his friend Tony got an idea of selling Cuban magazines to people from door-to-door, knocking and knocking, ringing and ringing, going Zig-Zag to find someone that would at least buy the magazines from them to make money so they can get money to buy their own food and drinks and to also live their own life. (Source!)

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Eire was laughing so hard to the point where he knew he never laughed like this or even this much which makes him a happy man because I mean like who isn't happy when they laugh. Eire said that he wasn't even on something to be laughing so hard and that he would never be on something because he said "Once a refugee always a refugee" and he will never break that rule due to anything that would ever happen in his life.

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As we know Tony and Eire were selling Cuban magazines to save up money to get a house so they can have somewhere to live, and now that they have the money they finally found a house that they said looks beautiful even tho it doesn't matter because as long as they have somewhere to live they will be good.

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Eire found a new best friend just right when he met him because of how nice he was, and the kind face he had on his face which made Eire feel so good to be around him, and his new friends name is Gary which is a really nice name and matches for a guy that would be nice.

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Eire lives in a house that has a lot of people which makes it very irritating for him, and especially that they don't go anywhere, and they don't have a car which explains why they're always in the house. This also shows us that Eire doesn't live in a void where he feels lonely because now he at least has people with him, but a little too much.

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"where's the boundary between pain and ecstasy?"

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"where's the boundary between pain and ecstasy?"

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Eire is giving pain advice by saying things like absences can feel good because it's a symptom of love or where is the boundary between pain and ecstasy, and stuff like that and just by him saying this you could tell that he is giving pain and love advise and the absence of pain feels great.

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Eire came out of church and when he came out he saw snow which made everyone angry and considered so they started complaining about it, and this made him feel like he was in the void again, and he also mentions that it (void) keeps coming and going. (Source!)

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This is Carlos Eire

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"What are you doing here?" The social worker peered at Carlos Eire, shocked to find the Cuban 12-year-old in a home for delinquent boys in Miami, Florida. "You're supposed to be with your uncle."

By 1963, the preteen had been living in the foster home for months, accompanied by his brother and a revolving cast of characters-boys from troubled backgrounds who constantly tried to convince the Eire boys to join their gangs and commit petty crimes. Carlos knew he was no delinquent, but he figured he had no choice. It had been a temporary solution, a place to live after he had been put on a plane in Havana by his mother, who told him she would rejoin him soon in the United States. But she hadn't come yet. In fact, nobody had claimed him.

Unbeknownst to Eire, someone had dropped the ball. For months, a Cuban uncle living in the United States had been prepared to claim him and put an end to his time as an exiled child with no guardian. He had simply been lost in the system.

Image courtesy of Carlos Eire

"They fixed the problem really fast after that," recalls Eire today. "But we spent many months [in the home for delinquent boys] needlessly. You can multiply these things by the hundreds or thousands."

Eire is referring to the 14,000 unaccompanied children brought to the United States from Cuba during Operation Peter Pan, a covert program that helped school-age kids escape repression in Cuba. The program was designed to protect Cuban children whose parents were being targeted by Fidel Castro's new regime-and to shield them from the Communist ideologies feared by the U.S. at the height of the Cold War.

From 1960 to 1962, Cuban parents who had heard of the program took advantage of visa waivers to put their kids on flights to the United States. Some never saw their children again.

Unlike this century's unaccompanied minors, thousands of whom have entered the foster care system or been detained in camps after seeking asylum in the United States, Eire and the other children of Operación Pedro Pan, as it was known in Cuba, were welcomed by the United States government. The program was a U.S.-sanctioned one-and the Eisenhower administration and private citizens who helped make it happen were motivated not just by the human rights of children who faced repression and political retaliation in Cuba, but by ideology.

Though begun for the children of Cuban dissidents being targeted by the Castro regime, the program was eventually opened up to cover all Cuban children whose parents wanted them to leave the island. During the Cold War, many thought it was worth any price to rescue children from indoctrination into Communism-even if it meant sending them to the U.S. without any chaperones.

Eire's family thought so, too. The son of a judge, Eire grew up in wealth and privilege in Havana. But things changed in 1959, when Castro became Cuba's dictator and Eire's family found themselves in the crosshairs of the new regime. "We were under watch all the time," says Eire.

Suddenly, the idyllic Cuba of Eire's childhood became a "hell" in which he was forced to praise Castro's regime in school, limit his movements, adjust to life under surveillance and watch his family succumb to the effects of paranoia and stress. Under suspicion and worried their children might be sent to work camps in Soviet satellite states in retribution for their parents' views, Eire's parents decided to participate in a new visa waiver program, news of which circulated in whispers.

It was the brainchild of Father Bryan O. Walsh, director of a Catholic charity in Miami. In 1960, he arranged foster care for a Cuban child named Pedro Martinez, an unaccompanied boy who had come to the United States as a refugee. Fearing both harassment of the children of Castro's political enemies and Communist indoctrination of those kids by Castro's regime, Walsh decided to help other Cuban minors sent to the United States by parents who felt threatened.
READ MORE: The Largest Mass Deportation in American History
Soon, private donations-many from Cuban businesses and individuals in exile-flooded in to finance the program, and the Eisenhower administration provided both visa waivers and funded a Catholic charity-run organization that arranged foster care for refugee children. With the help of James Baker, an educator at an American school in Cuba, Walsh spread word of a program that would waive visa requirements for Cuban children entering the United States and care for them until they could be reunited with their parents.

Image courtesy of Carlos Eire

The U.S. press cooperated with Walsh's request to keep the program out of the news. Operation Peter Pan's funding was a secret, and from the eyes of Cuban officials, it simply looked like Cuban parents arranging legal migration for their children in compliance with Cuban laws.

Since Cubans and Americans alike expected Castro to be toppled from power soon, nobody anticipated that parents and children might be separated for years-or never see one another again. Though many children and parents were reunited within a few months, about 60 percent became the responsibility of the United States government. Some never reunited with their families at all.

Once in the United States, the children who didn't have relatives or friends to claim them-about 8,000 in all-were housed in temporary camps near Miami. Then they were put in foster homes and institutions all over the country under the auspices of the Cuban Children's Program (CCP), which was run by Walsh and the Catholic Welfare Bureau.

At first, Eire ping-ponged between homes. He liked his first foster family in a home where he learned English mixed with Yiddish ("I didn't find out until I moved to the Midwest later," he laughs). But then disaster struck: The Cuban Missile Crisis erupted, bringing Cuba and the United States close to nuclear war. Suddenly his mother, who had a permit to follow her children to the U.S. in early November, 1962, was stuck in Cuba.

Image courtesy of Carlos Eire

"My mother was trapped," he says. "No one knew if she would ever get out." His first foster family had planned on taking him in only temporarily, so he was sent to another foster home run by a married Cuban couple and populated by unaccompanied Cuban children who were considered juvenile delinquents. "They were horrible people," he says of the people who ran the home. Bullied by children who tried to get him to join gangs and commit crimes, he was fed just one meal a day.

Finally, a Cuban uncle living in Illinois claimed Eire and his brother. The boys were actually supposed to be claimed much sooner, and had been forgotten by their social worker. Their experience was similar to that of other exiled children, many of whom were mistakenly categorized as juvenile delinquents and caught up in a bureaucracy that did not live up to modern standards of child welfare.

After they were claimed, the Eire boys moved to Bloomington, where they were the only Cuban children in town. "I kind of blended in," says Eire, who went by Charles or Charlie at the time instead of Carlos. Though he recalls some bigotry from his classmates, he also remembers being defended by other children.

Operation Peter Pan ended with the Cuban Missile Crisis. All air traffic stopped between the two countries beginning in October 1962. The influx of Cuban children had been reported on locally in the United States, but details of the program were murky and few outside Florida realized it was happening. "The Communists are certain to call it child-smuggling," wrote Gene Miller in a March 1962 article in the Miami Herald. "No one is telling exactly how it is done."

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The Secret Cold War Program That Airlifted Cuban Kids to the U.S.-Without Their Parents

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"What are you doing here?" The social worker peered at Carlos Eire, shocked to find the Cuban 12-year-old in a home for delinquent boys in Miami, Florida. "You're supposed to be with your uncle."

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My Parents are religious

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PROFESSOR CARLOS EIRE (speaking to class at Yale University): In 1517, something happens that has happened many times before...

BOB FAW, correspondent: Carlos Eire is at a pinnacle of the academic world. With an endowed chair at Yale, where he teaches religious studies, he's also written six books, including the memoir "Waiting for Snow in Havana," which won the National Book Award. But just as remarkable as his rise from Cuban refugee to professor of distinction is Carlos Eire's spiritual odyssey.

EIRE: It is an incomprehensible and in many ways an indescribable experience. What had been scary to me, what had been frightful, suddenly turned into the most beautiful thing.

FAW: In pre-Castro Cuba, Eire's was a life of privilege-the festive holidays and lavish birthday parties at grand estates befitting the son of a wealth and influential judge and a gorgeous mother. But their Spanish Catholicism terrified young Carlos.

EIRE: There was no place in the world scarier for me as a child than a church. Actually my worst nightmare was being locked in a church all night long, because the images were so frightening.

FAW: What tormented him most, Eire recalls, was his father's collection of icons of Christ.

EIRE: The crown of thorns on his head bleeding. It was in his study, right near the Jesus plate with the eyes that followed you.

FAW: Eire's comfortable life came crashing down when Fidel Castro seized power. Only 11, Eire knew his life had changed when the new regime prevented him from seeing a Walt Disney film, "20000 Leagues Under the Sea," that he had already seen seven times.

EIRE: That was the turning point for me. I really felt like someone was trying to steal my soul, not just invade but claim it as their own, some authority outside of me, and that's when I just began to see everything in a different light.

FAW: Fearful, their world collapsing, Eire's parents sent him and his brother, Tony, to the United States in 1962, two of 14,000 Cuban children airlifted from Cuba in an operation dubbed "Pedro Pan." Like many of the other children, Carlos and Tony lived with foster families. Never again would they see their father, and their mother would join them only years later. When Carlos left Cuba, his parents gave him a book which they said would bring him comfort.

EIRE: It was "The Imitation of Christ" by Thomas à Kempis-for centuries had been a very popular text in Spanish-speaking cultures. It's all about self-denial. It's about not being part of the world. It's very monastic in its outlook.

FAW: You wrote in the Miami book, "It scared me half to death. It is the most depressing book ever written by any human being in all of human history."

EIRE: From a child's perspective, yes, definitely.

FAW: But in Miami, living with foster parents who were Jewish but who made him go to a Catholic church every Sunday, Eire was unshackled for the first time from the Catholicism of Cuba and its troubling images of pain and suffering.

EIRE: After I had come to the US and seen churches that were free of such images, I realized that Spanish Catholicism and Latin American Catholicism was very different from American Catholicism in that respect and sort of put a less scary pall over religion.

FAW: Later, when Eire and his brother moved in with his uncle in Illinois, there were no more gory images of Jesus.

EIRE: My uncle had this very Protestant image of Jesus above his armchair-totally unscary, a friendlier, more accessible Jesus.

FAW: Though liberated from the demons of his youth, Eire says he was still plagued, even crippled by what he calls "the void."

EIRE: It attacked me, because it seemed to come from outside of me. it was a feeling of utter abandonment and emptiness and having no connection to anything or anyone, and having no one or anything beyond one's self. Everything was turning dark.

FAW: But as Carlos Eire so movingly writes in his second memoir, "Learning to Die in Miami," that overwhelming despair was shattered on Holy Thursday 1965 in a profound religious experience.

EIRE: It was at that period when I started reading "The Imitation of Christ," not just little passages, but actually getting into the meaning, and it brought me to this experience, a profoundly religious experience. I think it's fair to call it a conversion experience.

FAW: "Everything changes," you wrote. "Everything changes from top to bottom. A void rips loudly and light pours through."

EIRE: Up until that point I always thought that spirit was insubstantial. It's with that experience that I realized that spirit is more substantial than matter, because it is connected to eternity. Time stops. All there is is now, and this now is forever.

FAW: After experiencing what he calls "that presence," Carlos Eire says religion became his salvation and he was able, he says, "to let go."

EIRE: Thinking that there's something beyond this life helps one immensely in letting go. Without some other dimension, letting go, to me, is too painful-impossible.

FAW: You wrote, "He who knows best how to let go will enjoy the greater peace, because he is conqueror of himself."

EIRE: Letting go of your attachment to things and even your attachment to your own will and your own attempt to make sense of the world your own way and kind of open yourself up to something higher.

FAW: Not all those haunting images from his past have been excised. He anguishes, he says, over what is happening in Cuba today.

EIRE: I could not, in a sense, stop feeling the pain. The so-called free education and free medical care come at the cost of slavery. Cubans right now are no different than slaves in a plantation in the American South before the Civil War. Europeans and Canadians who go to Cuba to have a good time-I can't understand it. It would be like vacationing in the Third Reich and having a good time and ignoring Auschwitz.

FAW: And while Cuba, he says, "is a wound that will not close," the scars from his earlier religious trauma have healed.

EIRE: Yes, there is pain and suffering, but it can be transcended, and it can be redemptive. I was able to let go of everything I had lost, including my parents, and I was able to focus on what the purpose of life should be. Not as regaining everything I had lost, but rather giving one's self to others.

FAW: Carlos Eire-a long way from Cuba, but waiting no more.

For Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly this is Bob Faw in New Haven, Connecticut.

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April 1, 2011 ~ Carlos Eire | April 1, 2011 | Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly | PBS

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Reformation historian, award-winning memoirist, and Cuban émigré Carlos Eire says reading the medieval devotional book "The Imitation of Christ" by Thomas à Kempis was, for him, "a conversion experience."

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We have Christmas no matter what!

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Christmas in Cuba is very much a family-oriented holiday and gifts are not as important as spending time together. Roasted suckling pig is the traditional dish served for Christmas lunch. Parrandas - parties in the street with fireworks, floats, and dancing - are a common part of Christmas celebrations in Cuba.

Christmas in Cuba - and everything else - is celebrated with dance. Check out this video on Christmas in Cuba, to the saucy tune of salsa:

This year in Cuba state-run stores, private restaurants, supermarkets, hotels, and many houses in Havana exhibit Christmas decorations. Many cars are also decorated, and stores sell Christmas baskets and an assortment of wines, liquor, and turrons. Hotels such as Both Worlds, where the American author Ernest Hemingway lived, are also offering deals throughout the Christmas season and into the new year. Here you can get a four-course Christmas dinner served with mojitos for 40 U.S. dollars. The Christmas spirit has grown due to the reforms made by Raúl Castro. Santa Claus can be seen around Havana giving out gifts to children in the midst of the tropical heat.

Fidel Castro eliminated the Christmas holiday in Cuba in the 1960s in the time of tension with the Catholic Church and this prohibition lasted until 1998. During that time Christian families continued celebrating in private. Fidel Castro reinstated the holiday following the historic visit of Pope John Paul II to the island in 1998, but tolerance for religion became much more evident when Raúl Castro took power in 2006. Now bishops spread Christmas messages on television, which was unthinkable during Fidel Castro's reign.

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It's Easter and they'res snow?