A tale from Cuba

Since the inception of our great country, countless families from every corner of the globe have risked everything to make it to our shores in search of a better life, and we have welcomed them.  They have struggled against and overcome tyranny, endured hardships, disease, hunger, as well as a host of other conditions, and lived to tell the tale.

Until fairly recently, most came legally, (a hardship in and of itself) learned our language and culture, made it their own, and thereby enriched our society.  I think we can all agree, legal immigrants have helped shape and forge our country into what it is.

Last Friday I received an email from Lynne Sherrer.  I imagine that I’m not the only person that received it, but the story it contained hit home.

It is the story of a family such as I’ve described above; solid, hardworking people that didn’t ask for a handout.  Due to political pressure and devastation in their homeland, they came here.  Starting with very little, they made a life, and believed in what our nation is.  Indeed, as you’ll see, the author has a firm grasp on the reality of failed progressive, (i.e., socialist) policies, and her brother is fighting and willing to die for our country in Afghanistan.

After reading the email, I got in touch with the original author, and with her gracious consent and encouragement, I am reposting it here.  Except for some final comments from me at the end, it is all from her.  Please take a moment and read.

January 1,1959, at the stroke of midnight, Castro brought his “change” to Cuba with a loud bang. My grandfather was a police officer in Havana and for that he was considered an enemy of the state. Within hours he was snatched from his wife and 3 children. He was unfairly sentenced to death by firing squad. My great aunt and my great grandmother pleaded for his life. So those revolutionary guerrillas sentenced him to 30 years in prison of which he served 21 and a half years. He was freed in 1979 due to a treaty that was signed between Cuba and the United states to free the oldest political prisoners. My grandpa was in that category. We were living in Miami at the time. We listened to the radio as they were announcing the political prisoner’s names and we heard my grandpa’s name, Jose Antonio Gonzalez-Fernandez! We drove from South Miami to the Opa-Locka airport. We were excited and yet nervous. I met my grandfather when I was 7 years old. My mother had her father until she was nine years old so at least she had some recollection of him. My uncle too. To my aunt however he was really non-existent she did know him at all until she was 24 years old and ready to be married. I always heard my family’s stories with great fascination. One story my mother tells is when she was a little girl in school…

She was 9-10 years old at the beginning of the revolution. One day the teacher told the children in her classroom to close their eyes. The children did so as they were told. Then, the teacher said, “now pray to God for a piece of candy.” The teacher then commanded the children to open their eyes and they found no candy on their desks. So then the teacher again instructed the children to close their eyes and ‘pray to Fidel for a piece of candy.’ Then the teacher commanded the children to open their eyes and each child found a piece of candy on their desk. “See,” she said “God doesn’t exist. Fidel will give you what you want.” So much was told to me. You can see a pain that still runs deep. These stories were passed on to me so that I and others may not fall into the same trap. It is what made me go out into the streets hand in hand with my grandmother and my great-aunt to protest the return of Elian Gonzalez to Cuba. It is what made me realize what a mistake I made in having believed in the Liberal promise and vote for Bill Clinton only to have him turn his back on the Cuban exiles like his fellow Democrat John F. Kennedy did so many years ago. This is why I do not believe the promises that are made by Barrack Hussein Obama. It is not about the color of skin black, brown, yellow, white; or political party Republican or Democrat. It is about defending our country’s very principle of freedom for all and family values. The core values that make our nation great. To me it is the reason why my family escaped Cuba….Freedom! My brother, Staff Sergeant James Joseph Breslin, Jr., is defending our freedom right now in Afghanistan. The fact that we have communists advising the President of this country and the fact that the President himself is a socialist defiles what my brother and so many others are fighting for and have fought for.  Don’t let them fight and die in vain! Wake up America!! Do not let our children be indoctrinated the way they tried with my mother years ago. Don’t let our businesses that we sweat and work hard for be taken over like my grandmother’s business was years ago. This is why my family shares these stories. They are lessons that are very deeply engraved in my soul forever.

Mrs. Gina Maria Pulgarin

What can I say?  Gina’s family, your family and mine; we can’t let each other down; we can’t get tired and quit.  We all have to do whatever we can to stop the destruction of this great nation.  Failure is not an option!

God bless Mrs. Pulgarin and her family, South Florida 912, the Tea Parties, all of the people around the country working towards taking back our nation, and God bless the United States of America.

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