Goodbye for Now. But I'll Be Back
Plus: An inspirational story about perseverance
Hello, everyone. This is not a typical Tilting West feature today; it’s mainly to let you know that I will be taking some time off starting in October.
The reason? We’re going on a trip! To London, Paris, and a bit of Italy. It just seemed simpler to suspend the column during this time rather than try to keep it going while we were traveling. And then I have a book idea that I’m exploring and that will take a little time and attention too.
Some business: If you’re a subscriber, there’s nothing you need to do. When I return and start publishing again, the column will then magically reappear in your email in-box. Voila!
For paid subscribers, the same applies. All the billing cycles will be paused until I return. That’s true if you paid for the year or if you’re on a monthly plan. You will not have to pay for what you do not receive, in other words.
If you’d prefer, you can of course cancel your subscription. But I hope you don’t. If something pops up that doesn’t seem right, please let me know. I will make sure that everything is handled properly and to your satisfaction.
We have had a number of new subscribers lately and they may be thinking, “What? I just signed up for this thing and now this guy is going on vacation?”
Yeah, well, sort of. I would say only that I’ve been writing this column since January. I have posted every Friday, sometimes twice a week, and written 40 to 50 articles, nearly all of which require editorial and photo research, emails and texting, interviews, writing, rewriting, and what not. It takes a little time and effort to do, and I’ve loved every bit of it.
Unquestionably the best thing about this endeavor has been you, the people. The many wonderful contributions I’ve received from friends and readers, and the many people I’ve struck up new relationships with or gotten back in touch with after years of not seeing one another. Right now there are four different individuals who have contributed excellent, well-written stories and letters to Tilting West that will appear in future issues.
One more quick item having nothing to do with all of this but it’s a story I’d like to share. A while ago I told you about my Cuban-born friend Luisa, who became an American citizen at a naturalization ceremony in August in Sacramento, California. More than 800 immigrants to this country became citizens that day, and Luisa was the only one who was from Cuba.
Luisa and all the new citizens, as a group, recited the Naturalization Oath of Allegiance as part of the ceremony, and one reader asked how this differed from the Pledge of Allegiance. Since the immigrants were not born in the U.S., they must solemnly vow to renounce “all allegiance and fidelity” to their former land or any other foreign countries, while supporting fully our Constitution and laws.
Luisa herself may never have made it to America at all without her daughter Himelce (pronounced ee-mill-say). In the 1990s the U.S. adopted a lottery system that permitted a certain number of native Cubans to come to this country. They applied under the lottery rules, and then the winners—those who were granted their wish to leave Castro’s Communist Cuba—were randomly chosen.
Himelce and her husband Juan, both born in Cuba, were two of the lucky ones. They got out. They eventually came to California and became naturalized American citizens. But something was not right. Himelce was here, and so were her husband and their two children, but her mama still languished in Cuba.
So Himelce applied to the Cuban government to let her mother join them in the U.S.
They said no.
She applied again the next year.
They said no again.
She applied again. And again. And again. She was not going to quit. Ever.
Perhaps the Cuban government realized this because finally, after 16 years of saying no, they said yes. And Luisa was reunited with her family in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Himelce also made the same appeals for her father, who is now living in Texas.
Luisa has lived in the U.S. five years. Her naturalization ceremony took place in the same Sacramento arena that hosted the naturalization of Himelce and Juan years ago. This November will be the first time in her life she will vote in an election: she has never had the chance before.
In her continuing efforts to learn English, Luisa takes classes four days a week at the public library in the town where she lives. She takes these classes with other immigrants from countries around the world who are also studying English and seeking to become citizens. The week after Luisa achieved her dream—their dream, too—they held a potluck in which everybody made dishes from their native land and ate cake decorated with little red, white and blue flags.
During the celebration the ladies—only women happened to come to the party, although there are men in the class too—posed for a picture (Luisa is seated, at center, with the homemade tiara on):
All right, that’s it for me. Hasta la vista, mis compadres! Happy trails to you, until we meet again.