To the Band of Brothers: June 9, 2021
Good Morning!
Yesterday marked the official end of classes, and today we are faced with the God-awful task of having to take finals. I don’t want to hear any complaints, though. In my day you took a final in every single class you had, no matter what the grade. Now, you guys have it a little easier. You take a test on a couple of subjects and, poof, you are off to the tiny streets of a Tuscan village, cruising through the Greek isles, or salmon fishing in the great lakes of Alaska. Doesn’t anybody visit their grandmother in Hialeah anymore?
As the summer break approaches, you should realize how blessed you are. Don’t get me wrong, this has been a trying year and all of us have worked hard. A good vacation is well deserved. But, some of the great places you go to at your age are nothing like my vacations growing up.
When I was a kid, I remember my summers well. My father, who at the time was trying to get his business off the ground, and mother, who performed miracles with what they had raising five kids, would stuff us into a rusty, green Dodge Dart and drive to an old motel on Miami Beach called the Sea Crest. The little white building was right on the sand next to the famous “playa de los viejos.” If I am not mistaken, that portion of Miami Beach was called that because old people would flock to this area because the ocean floor had no rocks or shells, thus, making it easier to walk on in.
The Sea Crest Motel is etched in my mind as profoundly as the very house I lived in as a kid. I remember vividly the public telephone booth just out by the sidewalk on Ocean Drive, the white brick façade that peeled every year because of the sun and salt, the two floors of rooms that ran along the outdoor passage that took you from the street to the beach, the jalousie windows at the center of the front door of every little efficiency, the sofas and chairs covered in plastic so you can sit on them with your wet bathing suit. All of it is stored in my mental hard drive.
Most of these summer outings at the Sea Crest lasted about four days, Thursday to Sunday. My father would join us in the late afternoons after working all day. Saturday night was the best because I knew my dad was not getting up early in the morning to drive to work. This was great for various reasons, but mostly because he was the only one who could support the weight of his children on his shoulders as we climbed up and used him as our own personal diving board.
Usually, the summer break was coordinated with my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. We would take over the motel claiming it for our own. There were very little worries about where the children were because it was a given, they were at each other’s apartments eating, sleeping, or watching television. The mothers were incredibly organized. They had planned out what apartment would provide breakfast, which one lunch, and which one dinner.
You ate whenever you were hungry and slept whenever you were sleepy. At night we would all gather on the beach while my uncle would play the guitar. We would listen to him sing songs by The Beatles. When that was done, we would organize a game of “judge.” It required two teams to compete for words that we guessed from charades. Usually, after an hour, the game would end with accusations of cheating. We would then head off to bed in order to gather strength for the next day.
It’s amazing, these images are very vivid even though they happened over 35 years ago. They flood my memory every time I hear one of you talk about summers in Paris or Cat Cay. Don’t get me wrong, Paris is great and what I wouldn’t give to spend a summer with my family in Cat Cay. But, in my day, those types of excursions would not have been possible. Actually, I’m glad they weren’t. For a twelve-year-old boy, running around the sands of Miami Beach with his cousins in an old bathing suit was better than walking quietly through the galleries of the Louvre.
Auspice Maria
BELEN JESUIT PREPARATORY SCHOOL
500 SW 127th Avenue, Miami, FL 33184
phone: 305.223.8600 | fax: 305.227.2565 | email: communications@belenjesuit.org
500 SW 127th Avenue, Miami, FL 33184
phone: 305.223.8600 | fax: 305.227.2565 | email: communications@belenjesuit.org
Belen Jesuit Preparatory School was founded in 1854 in Havana, Cuba, by Queen Isabel II of Spain. The task of educating students was assigned to the priests and brothers of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits), whose teaching tradition is synonymous with academic excellence and spiritual discipline. In 1961, the new political regime of Cuba confiscated the school's property and expelled the Jesuit faculty. The School was re-established in Miami the same year, and over the next decade, continued to grow. Today, Belen Jesuit is situated on a 34-acre site in western Dade County, just minutes away from downtown Miami.