December 11, 2016
Reminiscences of my neighborhood dictator, Fidel Castro
By Vernon Roken
Most kids grow up with a neighborhood bully, often wishing he were dead. South Floridians, like me, are the only Americans who grew up with a neighborhood dictator – his name was Fidel Castro. Now, he's gone, but I'm not rejoicing in the streets of Little Havana like many Cuban Americans. He may not have been a good guy, but he was one of the most influential people in the formative years of my life.
As an "Anglo," as we South Floridian native English speakers came to be known in the Magic City of Miami, I didn't carry all of the emotional baggage that the Cubans who fled the island dragged around for so many years. They had left their homes, possessions and often relatives behind. Those same refugees, who began arriving in 1960, would later turn Miami into the bustling capital of all Latin America.
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