Heritage by AnthonyT

REAL WORLD EVENT DISCUSSIONS

Heritage

POSTED BY: ANTHONYT
UPDATED: Monday, March 26, 2012 14:36
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Friday, March 23, 2012 4:59 PM

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Hello,

I am reposting an old post for Kiki, who expressed some interest in my hispanic heritage. A post entitled 'The Family Farm' I made in September of last year has a lot of information in it she might find useful, so I think it's a good place to start.

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Hello,

My grandfather on my mother's side was a kind of policeman. He enforced the laws in his community. His job included making sure the butcher kept his scales set correctly and the milk-man didn't add water to the milk. The butcher would consequently offer him free meat if the scales could be overlooked, and the milk-man would offer free milk if the watering could be overlooked. He lived a life without free meat and milk.

But this is not his story.

This is the story of my gradfather on my father's side. He worked for the sugarcane company. He was a welder. I do not know if modern production factories or food refineries need a welder on hand, but this one did. During sugarcane processing season, my grandfather had weekly employment at the company.

Back in those days, places like sugarcane factories/refineries had entire towns pop up around them. Company towns. Some basic housing would be provided by the company. There'd be a company store of some kind to provide for the worker's needs. It wasn't the only store in the area but it was the only store in town at first. One may imagine that until closer competition cropped up, the situation may not have been entirely equitable for the workers in the company town.

Housing was basic, and one was expected to pay something to the company for using it. This didn't leave a lot left. By the standards of modern society, you would consider the occupants of this company town to be somewhat poor. The employees got by, but they didn't really propsper. It was enough to live on and not much else... and sometimes it wasn't quite enough to live on.

The sugarcane factory wasn't a year-long concern. It only operated when the cane was in season. There was more than one harvest of sugarcane per year, but even so there were periods when no cane was being harvested, planted, or processed. During these times, the occupants of the company town had to find ways to get by. Many people took second jobs. My grandfather was one such person. He worked odd jobs during the off-season. He was always working. There wasn't always need of a welder. Sometimes he would wash dishes at a restaurant in a big town far away. Whatever it took to feed the family. Living happened under a thin margin of success. Somewhere within that margin, he managed to save a little bit of money.

There was a railroad that operated in the region of the sugarcane factory. I've never been clear on whether the railroad owned the factory or whether the factory owned the railroad. Either way, the entity of the factory and the railroad owned most of the land around the site. From time to time, land would become available for sale. Perhaps this was another revenue generation stream of the company. I'm not sure what their motivation was, but they sold land to their workers. These workers would no longer be living in company housing. They'd own a piece of land of their own. In the long run, this provided quite a savings.

How much land? A lot of it, by modern city standards. Maybe a whole acre. How big is an acre? Almost a whole football field. Almost, but not quite.

When my grandfather saved up enough money, he was able to buy one of these plots. It was a big deal. Of course, it was just a plot of land. Unimproved, as they say in the Real Estate business. He built a house on that land with some help from his brothers. The materials were haphazard. Pieces of rail, pieces of discarded wood. He acquired a cement block mold, which was a big deal. Whenever he had some extra money, he could buy some cement, mix it up, and pour it into the mold and make blocks. A few at a time. Over weeks. Over months.

Plumbing was an improvised business, but he eventually managed it. It didn't come all at once. It took years. He had to get pipe. He hat to dig a well. He had to buy a pump. A hand pump. He had to build a tank and position it on the roof. My father remembers the morning routine at this house. He'd go out in the morning, and crank the pump. Eventually, the tank on the roof would be filled, and some water would spill out an overflow on the top, letting him know he was done. Now gravity would provide running water to the sinks. Until this was all arranged, there was no running water in the house. No fawcets to turn and have something come out. The move away from the outhouse had to wait until a flushing toilet could be installed. It was one of the late innovations. Even after all this was eventually arranged, there was no hot water unless you heated it on a stove. But maybe hot water isn't quite as important when you live so close to the equator.

The house was not a large thing. It was as big as it needed to be to house a husband, wife, and three sons. My father remembers living in the same room with his brothers, so it was probably a two bedroom house. No garage, of course, nor any superfluous spaces of that nature. Who had cars? Who could afford the extra materials for an office space or a 'bonus' room, as they call it nowadays? No one in this town, that's for sure. Well, that left most of the plot to remain 'unimproved' as just a field of grass. My grandfather got the idea to make that field useful. He bought seeds, and planted fruit trees. These trees had just been producing good quantities of viable fruit for a couple of years when my grandfather left his country, but they were a long-term improvement plan. Other things produced much more quickly. Like Corn.

A whole back yard planted with corn. My father remembered what it was like when the corn was harvested. Corn bread. Corn muffins. Corn soup. Corn on the cob. Corn tamales. Corn everything. For weeks it seemed that every dish was a corn dish. My grandfather's brother bought a hand grinder. He sold ground corn during the off-season to make ends meet. My grandfather got a sack of ground corn in the exchange. It was mostly a deal to help the brother. Family is important, and no few of the citizens of this town were family. When a company like the sugarcane factory went into business, entire families would move there to work. You might have thirty members of your family right there in the same community. Everyone helped everyone.

Sooner or later, the corn ran out. My father was happy when this happened, because he was tired of eating corn, and he was too young to fully understand how eating corn for several weeks had saved the family a lot of money. When the corn ran out, my grandfather's brother would grind things for people using his grinder. Not everyone had a grinder, so just owning such a device could provide income. He'd go around grinding things for folks, earning maybe a penny for his effort. I hope I never have to work as hard as my ancestors did in order to get by.

It wasn't always corn that got planted in the back yard. It was whatever seeds my grandfather could get or felt like trying out. Each year brought a new mystery crop. The haphazard planting cycle created an unintentional but quite beneficial crop rotation. The land in the backyard was exceedingly fertile. As things got better, bigger investments were possible. Livestock were added to the vegetables and fruit. A pig for Winter, fattened all year and eaten on Nocha Buena. Chickens for eggs. Food planted and harvested to feed the family during the off-seasons, when money was tight. The margin of life became a little bit wider. A little bit more could be saved each year.

Not enough to pay for immigration. They wanted a thousand dollars in the bank, back then. You had to prove yourself solvent in order to come to the United States. You had to do other things, too, but the thousand dollars was the sticker. It was no small amount of money back then. He didn't have it. All his scrimping and saving would never get it. But there were ways around such things.

There was a man in town. The nature of this man is somewhat mysterious, but at the very least he was a loan shark. The deal was like this: He gave you a thousand dollars. You'd transfer this money to a bank so that you could show that you had a thousand dollars in the bank. Then, that requirement met, you sent the money back. Then you made payments for an agreed upon period of time. I'm not sure exactly how long, but I have the impression it was at least a year, maybe more. It wasn't a fair deal, but it was the only deal around. There was no other way a lower-class Cuban was going to be able to live in the U.S.

So the deal was made. Grandpa came to the U.S. first, alone, and settled accounts. He wasn't able to get a job as a welder here in the states. Not right away. So it was washing dishes and cleaning rooms and whatever he could find. Eventually, he was ready. Across comes grandma and their three sons. Across to America, the land of opportunity.

What ever happened to the 'family farm?' That is, my grandfather's house and back yard?

He rented it out to his brother at a reasonable rate. Presumably competitive with company housing, else no one would want to rent it. He needed the rental income to help get his family established in the states.

Shortly after grandpa came across to the U.S., there was a big political upheaval in Cuba. The Cuban government was a fairly corrupt entity. No small part of that corruption was fostered by U.S. investors who paid off the Cuban leaders so they could have their way to the detriment of the Cuban people. Batista was a terrible leader, and the whole regime was a sick one. A few lived like kings while most of the population clutched to a subsistance existence. It was not clear to my father exactly how hard my grandfather worked in order to get ahead even by inches. He only knew that his Dad was never around. Always off somewhere. The food grown in the backyard made the difference between pennies saved and dimes saved.

Well, there was a man who changed everything for the Cuban people. A freedom fighter who wept for the common man. He came out of the mountains and he ousted the corrupt, capitalistic regime. The fat cats who lived their fat-cat lives weren't too happy with this, but the common man, the poor citizens of the country- they rejoiced. The name Castro was on the lips of every poor person striving for a freer life. Freedom from the threat of homelessness, joblessness, and hunger.

An early decree by the new leader of Cuba was designed to abolish the terrible hold that evil landlords had on their oppressed renters. Anyone who lived in a rented property could apply to the government, and that property would be handed over to them, free of charge. The landlords had oppressed the people for too long, and such inequity was about to come to an end.

My father's brother made the appropriate application. Ownership of my grandfather's home and land was transferred to him.

This was a pretty good deal for him, and I can see why he would do it. He acquired a house that he didn't have to build or buy. The house came with a nice back yard full of fruit trees and fertile soil. Well, he was benefitting from these things already, but now he didn't have to pay for it. They were his.

In the United States, my grandfather was not entirely happy to have the thin revenue stream from Cuba cut off as he was struggling to make ends meet in a new country. He made it, though, and eventually he even secured the Holy Grail. He got a job as a welder, working for a shipyard. Hardly a high-class job, it was a significant step up from washing dishes and mopping floors. He would weld for the rest of his working life, and be glad of it.

His brother's good deal of acquiring the house didn't stay good for very long. Microfarming was outlawed. The land was subdivided and given to other people who had no land. It was deemed that he didn't need a whole house to himself, and he was forced to share it. The sugarcane concern that the town was centered on faltered, and soon he was barely scraping by. He was not alone. In the end, the lives of the workers in this company town failed to improve. Before, they were all poor... but some had a little more, and some had a little less. Now they all had the least possible- the government mandated minimum guarantee. The family that remained in Cuba and who were unable to make the harrowing journey to the United States lived in part on what they were provided by the government, and in part on aid packages sent at regular intervals from their relatives who were living in the U.S.

Letters would come, advising of the important needs of the day. They probably sounded a lot like letters from Military personnel serving overseas. "Please send toothpaste. Please send toilet paper. Please send socks. Please send underwear." The Cuban-American community is a strong one. They love and remember each other. They support their families. Packages are expensive to send, especially for people who have little enough themselves. A woman might clean toilets all day, babysit kids at night, and earn an income that most consider poverty-level. And from her thin share, she shaves a thinner share, and sends it to the family still in Cuba. "Here is your toothpaste. Here are some socks. God Bless You."

My grandparents retired, eventually. They owned their home free and clear. They owned their car free and clear. There were two fruit trees in the back yard, but they were there for pleasure, not survival. My grandfather had a quarter of a million dollars in the bank when he retired, invested in rotating certificates of deposit. We did not know this until both my grandparents contracted Alzheimers and their children were forced to take control of their affairs. My grandfather had always lived a frugal life, and that did not change when he moved to the United States. He still saved every penny he could save. He ate the cheapest food he could buy. They never went out to eat. The children's toys were rehabilitated from junk heaps or they weren't toys at all. Bottle caps or milk jug caps that could be stacked in exciting patterns. The television in the house had been recovered from a junk pile and repaired by my grandfather. It was one of those old ones where the picture shrank down to a point of light when you shut it off, and glowed there for a while. When you turned it on, you had to wait for it to heat up before you could see anything. The carpet and furniture were as old as the house. Nothing new was ever bought when something old could do the job.

Grandma went blind and was blind for about ten years before she finally died. Grandpa is still hanging on, though he has no idea who anyone is. His three sons alternate days to visit and spend time with him. A couple of live-in 'nurses' give him his medicines, cook his food, and put him to bed. He's not sure who they are, but he's used to having them around the house. The sons have installed new carpet, remodeled the kitchen, and put in air conditioning. Grandpa's always trying to shut the air off. They had to put a lock on the thermostat. Even bewildered, he knows a luxury when he sees one. The nurses aren't real nurses. They're just old cuban women who take care of even older folks so they can earn money. A little of that money goes to Cuba each month, in the form of mailed goods. Toothpaste. Socks. Whatever.

My grandfather will die soon. He's in his 90's, and we wonder if he'll make it to 100 before the end. I personally hope not. He's not really enjoying his life anymore. I don't want to see him suffer like my grandmother did. Blind, in pain, and in a world she didn't understand. That's not living. I hope there's a good place for him to go to after it's all over. I think he deserves it.

This is the story of my grandfather.

And the family farm.

--Anthony

_______________________________________________

Note to self: Mr. Raptor believes that women who want to control their reproductive processes are sluts.

Reference thread: http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=18&t=51196

Never forget what this man is. You keep forgiving him his trespasses and speak to him as though he is a reasonable human being. You keep forgetting the things he's advocated. If you respond to this man again, you are being foolish.

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Friday, March 23, 2012 5:03 PM

1KIKI

Goodbye, kind world (George Monbiot) - In common with all those generations which have contemplated catastrophe, we appear to be incapable of understanding what confronts us.

Hey THANKS!

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Friday, March 23, 2012 5:19 PM

1KIKI

Goodbye, kind world (George Monbiot) - In common with all those generations which have contemplated catastrophe, we appear to be incapable of understanding what confronts us.

What was the original motivation to come to the US?

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Friday, March 23, 2012 5:56 PM

OONJERAH

Hello, Anthony,

Your grandfather is amazing. You must be very proud.

What about your mother's line?

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Friday, March 23, 2012 5:59 PM

ANTHONYT

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Hello,

It was perceived that there was a higher quality of life to be found here, better education resources for the children, (this did not prove to be the case for primary and secondary school, but was true for college) and a better future overall. The US was already exerting a great deal of influence on Cuba before Castro came along, but very little benefit was received by the Cuban people for that influence. Going to America meant you could reap the benefits of the Americans.

Also, perhaps somewhat idealistically, the US was perceived as a juggernaut of hope and prosperity. You could achieve anything you could work for, or so it was said. My grandparents on both sides were very patriotic for their new country once they moved. It really was like moving to a promised land.

--Anthony

_______________________________________________

Note to self: Mr. Raptor believes that women who want to control their reproductive processes are sluts.

Reference thread: http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=18&t=51196

Never forget what this man is. You keep forgiving him his trespasses and speak to him as though he is a reasonable human being. You keep forgetting the things he's advocated. If you respond to this man again, you are being foolish.

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Friday, March 23, 2012 6:11 PM

ANTHONYT

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Quote:
Originally posted by Oonjerah:
Hello, Anthony,

Your grandfather is amazing. You must be very proud.

What about your mother's line?

Hello,

My mother's line is what I like to think of as the poetic line. They were the real dreamers of the family. The true believers.

Her maiden name is De Paz, and that translates to "Of Peace." A lot of family names on my mother's side tied into this. My grandmother was Engracia de Paz, or Grace of Peace. My aunt was Luz de Paz, or Light of Peace. Very beautiful names for very beautiful people.

My grandfather on my mother's side was an idealist. He was an idealist to this degree: He had bought some land in the Everglades, back when that was possible. The government then moved to reclaim the land, offering the initial purchase price. Everyone told my grandfather to hold out for more. He said simply that if the United States needed his land, they could have it. He had received so much from this country, he was happy to give back.

I won't delve further into the bitter results of that, but suffice to say he really was a man of sunshine and dreams. An unsuccessful honest cop in Cuba, during a time when being in the government was a boon precisely because of the bribes you could receive.

My grandpa De Paz died when I was very young of a heart attack, and my grandmother was already retired when I was a child. She never really talked about the jobs she or her husband held in the United States, beyond once telling me that she liked to tip well because her husband had once been a waiter. She mostly talked about events in Cuba. I will inquire with my mother about what they did for a living when they came to this country. I am ashamed not to know much. :-(

My father was very good about telling stories from his life and about the family at large, and my mother was a more quiet introvert most of the time, so I think I got disproportionate information about both sides of the family.

--Anthony

_______________________________________________

Note to self: Mr. Raptor believes that women who want to control their reproductive processes are sluts.

Reference thread: http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=18&t=51196

Never forget what this man is. You keep forgiving him his trespasses and speak to him as though he is a reasonable human being. You keep forgetting the things he's advocated. If you respond to this man again, you are being foolish.

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Friday, March 23, 2012 6:25 PM

OONJERAH

Anthony: "I got disproportionate information about both sides of the family."

Me too.
My dad was a wooden Indian: barely spoke, unless is was about tech.
Three of his bros the same; but I believe the oldest, college-educated
one could actually hold a conversation.

Mom, otoh, loved to brag about her line, but knew very little about it.
She'd brag about the one guy who was there at the founding of Rhode Island
colony. She'd actually brag about the achievements of my ancestor's
brother, saying, "They did this." i.e., I have an illustrious ancestor-
uncle.

There was a whole lot more for her to talk about, but she never knew it.

Anyway, I got the goods on both their lines, mostly.

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Saturday, March 24, 2012 7:13 AM

NIKI2

Gettin' old, but still a hippie at heart...

Wow Oonj, another parallel: My dad was a wooden indian too. Getting him into a conversation was virtually impossible, while my mom almost never stopped talking. I know we're discussing heritage here (and in that respect it was also true), but there, too, I only know mom's side. Dad never said anything, and I only found out through mom that he came from "Back East somewhere". Turned out it was New York. Mom, her mother and grandmother all came from France just after the '06 quake; apparently her mother was in a bad marriage so immigrated, and her grandmother was forced to come with her because there was nobody else. I heard about that side of the famiy a lot, but ot dad's. That's all I ever knew.

But my friends, upon encountering dad at the house, would often express surprise I HAD a dad...he kept to his room, while mom was a gadabout, and he rarely spoke.

Anthony, I remember that post, and it meant a lot to me. Hadn't heard about your mom's side before, tho'...really cool!

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Sunday, March 25, 2012 5:22 PM

1KIKI

Goodbye, kind world (George Monbiot) - In common with all those generations which have contemplated catastrophe, we appear to be incapable of understanding what confronts us.

"... and a better future overall ..."

Why was the future so meager in Cuba? If you could let me know I'd appreciate it.

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Monday, March 26, 2012 8:01 AM

1KIKI

Goodbye, kind world (George Monbiot) - In common with all those generations which have contemplated catastrophe, we appear to be incapable of understanding what confronts us.

just bumping to flag it as an active thread

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Monday, March 26, 2012 11:00 AM

ANTHONYT

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Hello,

The government in Cuba was massively corrupt, essentially governance for hire to the highest bidder. You see something similar in places like Mexico. Government employees from the lowest to highest tiers routinely indulged in bribery. This ensured that the plight of the common man was never a priority to the government. United States corporations were also exerting incredible influence on Cuba, to the point that getting a cross-country highway built was something fought by the railroads because it would hurt their profit margins. Try to imagine it- you can't get a road built for the people because it would hurt corporate interests. No individual anywhere was safe from the interests of a corporation, since they could always offer the requisite bribe for anything they wanted.

So when someone came along who promised something better- less government corruption, less corporate influence, less foreign influence, more for the people- he was a hero. But that hero's promise didn't manifest until after my parents and their parents had already moved to the U.S.

--Anthony

_______________________________________________

Note to self: Mr. Raptor believes that women who want to control their reproductive processes are sluts.

Reference thread: http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=18&t=51196

Never forget what this man is. You keep forgiving him his trespasses and speak to him as though he is a reasonable human being. You keep forgetting the things he's advocated. If you respond to this man again, you are being foolish.

NOTIFY: Y | REPLY | REPLY WITH QUOTE | TOP | HOME

Monday, March 26, 2012 11:07 AM

1KIKI

Goodbye, kind world (George Monbiot) - In common with all those generations which have contemplated catastrophe, we appear to be incapable of understanding what confronts us.

Thank you for answering, AnthonyT. I will think on it and try to imagine how that shaped your grandparents and parents lives, and how their own heritage (which I see as the story a people collectively tell themselves about their being) shaped their response to it.

And I'm curious as to what you think that story was.

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Monday, March 26, 2012 11:29 AM

ANTHONYT

Freedom is Important because People are Important

Hello,

First, that an individual really does exert some level of control over their fate. They can't help what kind of crap hand they're dealt, but they can control how they deal with it. This is by no means a guarantee for success nor an indication that helping hands aren't needed. Merely that there is room for choice even in the bleakest beginnings.

Second, if you are being exploited from afar, it is a good idea to approach the epicentre of exploitation and try to change the condition from close up.

Third, that no matter how terrible things are, you shouldn't trust blindly in someone promising to improve them. Every system of government and economy is exploitable by tyrants. Don't invoke change for its own sake. Be sure you know what you're moving towards.

Fourth, a community that sticks together in mutual support is the most powerful force in human existence.

Fifth, don't confuse a better government with a benign government. Feel free to be critical even in better environs. It will prevent you from being exploited anew.

--Anthony

_______________________________________________

Note to self: Mr. Raptor believes that women who want to control their reproductive processes are sluts.

Reference thread: http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=18&t=51196

Never forget what this man is. You keep forgiving him his trespasses and speak to him as though he is a reasonable human being. You keep forgetting the things he's advocated. If you respond to this man again, you are being foolish.

NOTIFY: Y | REPLY | REPLY WITH QUOTE | TOP | HOME

Monday, March 26, 2012 12:02 PM

1KIKI

Goodbye, kind world (George Monbiot) - In common with all those generations which have contemplated catastrophe, we appear to be incapable of understanding what confronts us.

Thank you.

If I had to tell the story of my heritage it would be

Family is everything.

Poverty isn't anything to be ashamed of. You can wear patched clothes proudly. But you should be ashamed if they aren't clean.

Act so as to keep your self-respect, and it's good to have the respect of your community as well.

Ignorance is also shameful.

Be suspicious of outsiders.

Government is a faraway concept and nothing to do with your life.

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Monday, March 26, 2012 2:36 PM

RIONAEIRE

Beir bua agus beannacht

I indentified with Anthony's "Don't invoke change for its own sake, be sure to know what you're moving towards", I've been seeing a lot of that in world affairs lately.

I assume you're my pal until you let me know otherwise

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