Just like so many other Cuban-Americans, we came to Miami to escape the ravages of the Communist regime that had taken over our island-nation. We were lucky enough to come on a regularly scheduled Pan Am flight.

My parents obtained their visas to leave Cuba in November 1961 and were forced to leave their two children behind. Those were torturous weeks waiting to see if we were ever going to see our parents again.

However, God was looking over us and my brother and I took our first-ever airplane ride on Dec. 1, 1961, from Havana to Miami.

I remember looking out the window and, as we prepared to land, I saw my mother, father and cousins standing on a terrace on the roof of the airport. Little did I know then that this terrace would be one of the places where we would frequently spend Sunday afternoons – it was free entertainment!

Since we were only able to bring some clothes and had no money, our family discovered all the places that provided diversions for my brother, my cousins, and me for free. We frequently went to Crandon Park or South Beach, Lincoln Road, the airport, Morningside Park, and Bayfront Park.

All these places still exist today, but in a very different way. South Beach had a dog track right by where Government Cut is and there was no pier. There were rocks that all the kids would climb on and jump from into the water.

Lincoln Road was similar to today, but it did not have all the high-end restaurants and it was not as crowded. There were simple shops, a Carvel Ice Cream shop and a little tram that would take you from one end of Lincoln Road to the other for, I think, 10 cents.

There was no Bayside Marketplace at Bayfront Park – it was just a big stretch of grass along the bay. The airport was tiny and you would still have to walk to the tarmac to get on and off planes.

Our family settled in what is now called Wynwood. I really do not know if that area had a name then, but I do not think so. We referred to the general area as “el Norwes” (the Northwest). The building that we lived in is actually still there, but the area has changed dramatically.

There was no Miami skyline to be seen and Midtown was not even a thought in anyone’s mind. In fact, having come from Havana, a bustling city with a lot of nightlife and bright neon signs, Miami seemed like a sleepy town then and reminded me more of the town where I was born, rural Moron, Camaguey.

Somehow, it seemed that half of Moron settled within the same block of NW 32nd Street. By 1967, when we bought our first house and moved to Hialeah, the entire two blocks between Miami Avenue and NW Second Avenue seemed to be inhabited by “Moroñeros.” It was a great childhood there.

Everyone knew everyone, we rode our bikes freely without the concerns that seem to worry every parent today, we played “hide-and-seek” throughout the entire block with dozens of kids, and on rainy days we would play Monopoly.

There was no Publix or Dadeland Mall. The only large supermarket was a place called Shell near NW 54th St. We bought our groceries at “Paul’s Grocery Store” on the corner of Miami Avenue and 29th Street and took the bus for a few stops to shop downtown at places like Richards, Kress, Lerner’s, Burdines, and McCrory’s. My mother and I loved to have corn dogs at the McCrory’s luncheonette.