Like all baseball fans, I never lost my love of the game. I am now the owner of the Gallo Sports Agency, representing professional ballplayers and providing scholarship opportunities to lots of kids who otherwise would never have the chance to play. I also own a hair studio, work with at-risk students in my community and in the public school system, and am hard at work on upcoming books. And my newest project is the formation of the Tampa West Community Development Corporation, which will focus on developing programs to help youth and less fortunate families.
My life is filled with other gifts, too. On December 9, 2008, Mercy and I celebrated our thirtieth wedding anniversary. We became American citizens in 1991—one of the proudest days of our lives. Our sons are both attending universities, to our immense pride. Papa unfortunately passed away on April 7, 1978, at the age of forty-nine. Although too young to die, he lived nine glorious years as a free, family-loving man in what he considered the great United States. Mama is still a tough cookie and has survived the many heartaches life has brought her. She retired a few years ago after working in textile factories for thirty years. She lives with my sister, Esther, who is the mother of two wonderful children and has worked for many years as a customer service agent in the corporate world. Her oldest daughter became a university graduate in May 2008, and her son is a bright twelve-year-old middle schooler. My cousin and childhood pal, Luis, came to Florida soon after I did. He and his wife have been married for over twenty years, and are blessed with two wonderful sons.
Every morning when I wake up, I give thanks because I live in the “Land of Freedom to the north,” as we used to call America. I can hear Abuelo’s voice in my ear as if he were standing right next to me, and feel his work-worn hand on my shoulder. Remember that every day is a gift. Each morning, you should greet the sun as though it were your bride. Take pride in your appearance, and behave respectfully to everyone. The older I get, the more wisdom I find in the words of this simple, God-fearing man.
I yearn to someday go back to Glorytown when Cuba is free. Tío William, the giant of my youth, is no longer with us. I feel a strong need to sit beside his grave and tell him some of my stories about life in America. I want to bask once more in the presence of the man who vowed not to let the Communists get the better of him, to remind him about the time when, with all the suffering he had undergone, he still managed to find it in himself to toss me diez centavos, and to be my hero.
Once more, I will walk down San Carlos Street, past the Jagua Movie House; past the front door of number 6110, where my dear grandparents lived; and past our little house across the street. I even want to see the shambling old wreck that La Natividad lived in—and I will not be surprised in the slightest if I see La Natividad herself coming down the steps with her umbrella, ageless thanks to her black magic. And I want to see my old childhood buddy Tito, to tell him how often I still think of him and Rolando, who was killed by lightning shortly after we left Cuba, and those endless days in Glorytown.
Most of all, even though I am an American now, I want to return just once more to the place I often revisit in my dreams, to feel the soft warmth of the Caribbean evenings, to see the turquoise waters and the white sand . . . to the place that I once knew.
My beloved Glorytown!
Acknowledgments
Above all, I give all glory and honor to almighty God. I would also like to give praise to my wife, Mercy, and our sons, Christian and Gabriel. Your love is the essence of my existence. To you, Mama, for your love, guidance, and courage. Sister Esther and her children, Rebeca and Luis, you are dearly loved. Thanks to my devoted agent, Doris Booth, for believing in me. Gracias, Ramón. To my editor, partner, and friend, the author William Kowalski, you brought life and literary quality to my story. To Luis, Tito, and Rolando for the childhood memories, in those endless days under the sun. Special thanks to my clients and friends who through the years encouraged me to pursue the writing of my story. You are deeply woven into the fiber of who I am. To Sandy Berquist and the author Max Courson, and to the memory of Carolyn Benish—this work might never have happened if it wasn’t for your enthusiastic support. To Ken Silbert, Bill Boroughs, and Bill Reynolds for your friendship. To Janie Faust and Pat Sexton for your spiritual guidance and support. Lastly, I give honor and praise to the dissidents fighting for human rights in Cuba, who continue to be persecuted but remain peacefully loyal to their cause of freedom. May the world hear your pleading voice through this book.
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