The Parents of the Class of 2020

“This is only the ending of the first chapter of a grand adventure.” Author Unknown

When Alex told me that UConn didn’t have graduation ceremonies in December, I was devastated. Alex missed a semester for health reasons, so he was not able to finish his college education in May 2017 with his classmates. He had to stay one additional semester, so he ended up graduating in December. He took all his cap and gown pictures, and he asked if he could participate in the May ceremony, but the answer was “no.” He had the opportunity to return to campus in May 2018, and participate then. Of course, I knew that was not going to happen. By that time, he already had a full-time job down here, and it just didn’t make sense for him to go back to Connecticut when he had even received his diploma already. Besides, those were not his classmates. He was part of the class of 2017, not the class of 2018. 

I always have that sadness in my heart that we missed out on something important. I had enjoyed his brother and sister’s graduations tremendously. There is something special about hearing your child’s name being called out, and seeing them walk across the stage to receive their diploma. Yes, even if it’s a pretend diploma. And that is why my heart goes out today to the parents of the class of 2020.

A lot has been said and a lot has been written about the class of 2020, but not much about the parents of the class of 2020. Don’t get me wrong, my heart goes out too to the class of 2020.  Their year was cut short. They missed out on their prom, on the end-of-year senior activities, on their last days with their friends and on their graduation. But they will get over it. Their year may have been cut short but their dreams won’t. They have their entire lives ahead of them. But for their parents, the graduation ceremony is like their crowning glory. I know that Alex didn’t mind missing out on his college graduation as much as I did. He attended as a guest to what should have been his graduation, and I remember he told me: “You didn’t miss anything, mom, it was long and boring.” But I did miss that special moment that marks the culmination of all the sacrifices we put ourselves through so that he could have the best education possible.

I know how the parents of the class of 2020 are feeling today. It’s like when you are reading a book, and just when you are about to reach the end, when you are about to read that exciting conclusion that you have been waiting for, you realize that the last pages of the book are missing. Since the very first day that these parents took their child to kindergarten, they have made sure their children woke up early to get to school on time. They have driven them to school every morning during rush hour traffic. They have run back in the afternoon to pick them up. They have stayed up late at night to help them with their science project that is due the following day. They have sat with them to teach them their spelling words, to practice their reading, and to help them with their math homework. They have allowed their kitchen to be converted into a science lab. They have taken time off work to go on field trips. They have rushed to school to pick their child up because he had a fever. They have experienced every growing pain from kindergarten to middle school to high school. And finally, when they are on the final chapter of their child’s education, when they are about to reach the end and enjoy the conclusion of all their years of sacrifice, they realize that the last pages have been ripped out. So whether it’s a high school or a college graduation, today my heart goes out to them. I mourn with them the pictures that they could not take and the speeches that they could not listen to in person. I can hear the song “pomp and circumstance” playing in the distance, like an echo of what should have been but was taken away by a little bug that came to steal the last pages of the book.

And yet, I am in awe at the creativity of this 2020 group of parents. I feel like they have 20/20 vision. As I walked around the golf course near my house this past month, I saw countless houses with signs on their front yards congratulating the graduate that lived in that particular house. I have seen caravan after caravan of cars parading in front of the houses on what would have been graduation day. These parents who missed out on one of the most important days of their child’s life, made sure that their child had their special day no matter what. Maybe the book did not have the ending that they were expecting, but it definitely had a surprising and unexpected conclusion. And thus, the parents of the class of 2020 will go down in history as the most innovative group of parents who had the 20/20 vision to come up with the most creative ways to celebrate their child’s graduation in spite of all the obstacles brought on by this pandemic. And even though the little bug stole the last pages of the book, these parents re-wrote the ending in ways that no one could have predicted. I know a mom that created a video for her daughter with messages from all her family and friends. Another one had the fire and police departments lead the two-mile long caravan that drove in front of their house on graduation day. And many others arranged surprise video parties to celebrate their child’s special day in spite of social distancing.

It’s been almost three years since Alex finished college, and even though we don’t have any graduation pictures or memories, he has accomplished all his dreams. And at the end of the day, that is more important than the graduation itself. So parents of the class of 2020, you will get over it. The most important thing is not this moment in time, but all the timeless moments that you will get to spend with your child in the future. This little bug may have stolen the last pages of this book, but he did not steal their future. Their dreams are not over, they are just beginning. So grab your child’s hand, and walk into the next chapter of their lives, knowing that together, you were part of history.

Congratulations to the class of 2020!!! And cheers to the parents!!! May you have lots of reasons to celebrate all their future dreams.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

Unmasking the Truth

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less." Marie Curie

When the coronavirus began, we were told that masks were not necessary. Now, masks are mandatory in most enclosed places. The virus will dissipate when the weather gets warmer. We live in sunny Miami, and the virus came to visit us too. The best way to combat this virus is to build immunity, however, we must remain in quarantine. But I’ve always heard that we build immunity by coming in contact with the virus. The virus can live in surfaces for two hours... no, that’s wrong, it can live for four hours... no, that’s wrong too, it can live for six hours... Stay home. Go out as long as you stay six feet apart. You can go to the park, but not to the beach. Animals are not affected... except for tigers. Stay away from people over sixty because they are more sensitive to the virus. People over sixty can all go shopping together before 8 am because it’s fine if they are close to each other, they just need to stay away from people younger than 60. The virus began in China. No, not really, it began in a Princeton lab and was sent to China by Fedex.

I have been receiving so many contradictory messages that it has gotten to the point that I’m wearing my mask to cover my ears instead of my mouth. I don’t even want to look at the news anymore. In the morning I hear one thing, and at night, the message is totally different... in the same channel. I won’t even mention the different messages coming from different channels.

This week, I had my yearly physical. I considered cancelling it because I feel perfectly healthy, and I did not want to risk going to a doctor’s office. But after thinking about it, I decided to go more than anything else because I wanted to talk to my doctor. I respect my doctor tremendously. He is extremely smart. He went to Harvard for his undergrad and then went to UM Medical School. He reads a lot. He is in top of all the latest medical discoveries. A few years ago, I discovered by accident, literally, that I have a condition in my brain known as a “Chiari malformation” in which brain tissue extends into my spinal canal. Apparently, I’ve had this since birth, but I learned about it when I fractured my wrist. Since I also hit my head when I felt down, they did a CT scan of my head, and that is how this condition was discovered. I figured that since this was from birth and it’s never bothered me, I was not going to have the MRI that they recommended at the hospital. But when my doctor learned about this, he researched it and gave me more information than I ever cared to know about this “Chiari” condition. But that is who he is. He will give you all the facts whether you want them or not. Therefore, I was very interested in asking him what he had learned regarding Covid-19.

I spent half an hour with him, hardly talking about my health, but mostly drilling him with questions about the coronavirus. First of all, he is testing all his patients. Yes, I got tested too. It’s a long-term test that shows whether you’ve had the virus in recent months. By the time I went to see him, on his second week of testing, he had tested approximately one hundred patients. And all of them, including me, tested negative. Well, all except for his guinea pig. This patient had been in the hospital with coronavirus, so he tested him simply to ascertain that the test was working. And it was because this patient tested positive. He told me that he was surprised with all the negative results because if we go by the rumors out there, there are hundreds of people walking around that have contracted the virus and they don’t even know it. Obviously, this is not true, otherwise, at the very least, a few of his patients would have tested positive. He even tested himself, and he was pretty certain he would test positive since he had been in contact with patients who thought they had a cold, and it had turned out to be COVID-19. And yet, he tested negative.

I won’t go into details about our lengthy conversation, but I will just mention a few things that he told me that stayed with me. There is not enough knowledge yet about this virus to know the whole truth of how it is transmitted, and why it affects some people so badly and others not. He did say that he has noticed that people with low levels of vitamin D, across all age groups, get affected worst than those that have normal levels of vitamin D.

He also told me that in the thirty plus years that he has been a doctor, he has never seen anything like it. He has seen patients in the hospital whose lungs have been totally destroyed by this virus. And those that have survived tell him that they have never felt worst in their lives. He says that because of what he has seen, he will continue to quarantine himself and his family, even if restaurants and stores start to open up.

I must say that after I spoke with him, I felt a whole lot better. I have to confess that after Mother’s Day, I felt that maybe I was exaggerating this whole thing of staying away from my own kids and my mom. After seeing a lot of friends posting pictures on Facebook last Sunday, celebrating in their homes with their mothers and kids who do not live in the same house, I felt guilty. I shared this with a friend this week, and she felt exactly the same way. But after talking to my doctor, I realized that I have no reason to feel guilty for being cautious.

This week, our city will begin to reopen. And I can only hope and pray that my friends and family continue to be cautious. I hope that we won’t let down our guard because this is a very serious virus that has already claimed the lives of over 300,000 people worldwide. And yes, we could claim that this is just another flu, and that the flu also claims a lot of deaths, but I think that this would be like comparing apples to oranges. The Journal of the American Medical Association published on May 14th that in the U.S. there were 20 times more deaths per week from COVID-19 than from the flu in the deadliest week of an average influenza season. No other flu has caused this disruption in our entire world. We all have a certain responsibility to stop this thing from continuing to spread, and we can only do that through a certain amount of sacrifice.

Even though, at this time, we may still not be able to unmask the truth completely, there is one truth that is certain. We cannot allow our fear to turn into paranoia. Fear is normal. I don’t think we would be humans if we didn’t feel a certain amount of worry during these uncertain times. When the apostles were hiding in the upper room after Jesus was crucified, they were afraid too. But Jesus came to them and He calmed their fears. He will do the same for us if we allow Him. So if listening to all these contradictory messages is causing us to be afraid, then it’s best to stop listening to all this garbage and search for the truth from a source that we do trust.

We humans get stronger when we are put through the fire. And one day, we will be able to shake hands once again. We will be able to hug. We will not have to wear masks forever. And we will not need to wash our hands fifty times a day. And when that day comes, we will be better because we lived through this pandemic together, and we endured. In the meantime, let’s all stay calm, pray and take vitamin D.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

The Fear of Being Near

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” 

— Franklin D. Roosevelt

When Rafael and I got married 35 years ago, we rented a small one bedroom apartment near FIU. We were still going to college, and we lived on a tight budget. Our routine included cleaning our apartment once a week. We used to split up our duties. Rafe had bathroom duty and vacuum cleaner, while I would clean the kitchen and dusted the furniture.

When I got pregnant four years later, and was put on bed rest for a couple of months, we hired a cleaning lady for the first time. And then we kept her... forever. Cleaning the house was a duty that I definitely didn’t miss. If I had to cut anything out of our budget, I would rather cut out the beauty salon than my cleaning lady.

When the quarantine started two months ago, we had to add cleaning to our routine. Honestly, our home has never been this clean. As much as I love my cleaning lady, I’ve discovered corners that had never been dusted. However, I am so exhausted, that I can’t wait for those corners to get filled with dust again. It was definitely a lot easier to clean when I was twenty years old than it is now. I have pain in muscles that I didn’t even know I had. I am so looking forward to being able to bring back my cleaning lady. But for now, the fear of being near is keeping her away.

Every morning, we go for a walk around the golf course. Just two months ago, whenever we crossed paths with someone, we said good morning, and continued on our merry way. Now, when we see someone coming, we leave the sidewalk and start walking on the street. If someone is coming on the street, we return to the sidewalk. We now wave them good morning from afar. Our morning walks have become a zigzag from sidewalk to street and back again. “Zigzag, zigzag, everybody, everywhere. Zigzag, zigzag, everybody do your share.” I sing and I zigzag as I walk, all because of the fear of being near.

Our building elevators are limited to four persons, but most people feel that even two persons is too much. If I’m inside the elevator on my way down, and the elevator stops on another floor, most people won’t get in because of the fear of being near. The first time that it happened, I felt so unloved. But now I do it too because I have also been overcome by the fear of being near.

When we go to the grocery store, we must wait outside in a line, and we must stand at least six feet apart from the person in front of us. Only a limited number of persons are allowed to go in. And once inside, the aisles are one way. God forbid we cross another person on the same aisle. We must maintain our distance because of the fear of being near.

In Cuba, going to mass had to be done in hiding. I never expected that I would not be allowed to attend mass in Miami, but for the past two months, the churches have been closed... yes, you guessed it, the fear of being near. Luckily for us, as opposed to the last pandemic one hundred years ago, we now have technology, therefore, we can now attend mass from our own living rooms. The fear of being near cannot keep us from being near our Lord. 

All this social isolation has made us afraid to be too close to others. Everyone we see could potentially be infected. Even our own family members must stay six feet apart. Rafael has been cooking on Sundays, and then we go to deliver the food to our kids and to my mom. But we don’t even get off the car. We open the trunk, and the kids pick up the food themselves. This past Sunday, for Mother’s Day, we did a caravan for my mom. My kids went too, but everyone in their own cars. Then, we had a virtual brunch. It’s been eight weeks since the last time I gave a hug or a kiss to my own kids or to my mom. If someone had told me three months ago that I was going to be afraid of being near my own family, I would have laughed in their face. But now being near my mother could mean that I could infect her. Hugging my daughter may put her at risk. Kissing my son may get him sick. Or it could be the other way around. It could be me the one that catches the virus. And we are all so terrified, that we have become infected with the fear of being near.

Next week, we were supposed to travel to Germany and Austria. The flight has been cancelled. The hotels and restaurants are closed. The tickets that we had for a concert in Salzburg were refunded because the concert won’t be taking place. Today, I was picking up the room that I have been using as my office, and I found the “Germany” travel book. I put it away, not knowing when we will be able to go on that trip. We are afraid to be confined inside a plane because of the fear of being near.

I cannot wait to see my apartment dirty once again. It will mean that the quarantine has come to an end. It will mean that my kids will be able to visit. It will mean that we can have friends and family over for a meal. It will mean that we can go out and bring the dirt from outside without fear that it’s contaminated. We won’t have to clean the soles of our shoes with Lysol wipies. The churches, restaurants and stores will reopen. But most importantly, we will be able to hug and cuddle. We will be able to spread the love and the dirt in equal measurements. The fear of being near will be over.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

My Mother... Authentic in Hard Times

“Hard times arouse an instinctive desire for authenticity.”  —Coco Chanel

I have a vivid image of being a little girl and standing in a line with my mother to buy cotton. Making lines was a common occurrence in Cuba, so common that when I was little, I used to play pretend that I was making a line. My mom says that sometimes she would see me standing in the middle of the room, and every few minutes I would take a step forward. She would ask me: “what are you doing?”, and I would tell her that I was standing in line. I used to line my dolls in a row and pretend that they were making a line to go to Copelia, a very famous ice cream shop in Havana. As a matter of fact, when I was born, it was the only ice cream shop in Havana. 

But going back to the cotton, I recall that we were on our way home, and we passed by a store that had just received a shipment of cotton. In communist Cuba, you had to take what was available when it was available. I have no idea if we had cotton at home, if we needed cotton or if we had not seen cotton in a year. All I remember is that we got this package of cotton that came wrapped in a dark blue paper. We were only allowed to get one, but I recall that once we got it, my mom told me to stand aside with the package of cotton, and she got back in line to get a second package, and a third, and a fourth. I remember wondering why we needed so much cotton, but I did not ask, and soon forgot all about the cotton.

This weekend, we are celebrating Mother’s Day, and for the first time in my life, I have been able to experience an inkling of what my mother lived in communist Cuba. My mother was born into a middle class family. My grandparents had traveled from Spain to Cuba looking for better opportunities. They both found them in the fashion industry. My grandfather became a talented tailor, and my grandmother an accomplished seamstress. They met in that world, felt in love and got married. They only had one daughter, and my mother became the center of their lives.

Like most parents that have gone through hardships, they spoiled her and made sure that she lived the best possible life that they could provide. They sent her to one of the top schools in Havana, the American Dominican Academy (ADA). My grandmother used to travel a lot to New York to purchase fabrics for her beautiful creations. Since she did not speak English, she encountered a lot of trouble when trying to communicate with the owners of the fabric stores in New York. She decided that my mother would not experience such difficulties, and that is why she chose for her a bilingual school. She wanted to make sure that my mother learned English since a very young age. It was probably one of the best decisions that she ever made, not knowing at the time that we would all end up in the United States. Eventually, when my mother was a bit older, she began to travel to New York with my grandmother, and she became her interpreter. 

I was talking recently to my mother about the class of 2020, and how sad that they were not able to experience their last days of their senior year in school. “They are going to miss out on their prom and all the other activities, including the actual graduation.” She shared with me her own experience. My mother graduated from the ADA in May 1959, the same year that Fidel Castro took power in Cuba. He was Cuba’s worst kind of virus. He was the Castro virus. He came to destroy and disrupt their way of life. Even though my mother was able to enjoy her senior year activities, and she was the last class to have a graduation ceremony, the Castro virus did not allow them to have their graduation in the large amphitheater where all the previous graduations had taken place. Her graduation took place in the school patio. But at least, she was able to have a celebration. It would be the last year that Castro allowed graduations to take place. He came in like a storm, stealing everything in his path, including all the catholic schools. He closed them all, and he stole all the graduations and anything that brought joy to the people. 

My mother is very familiar with the difficult situation that the world is facing today because she lived through worst times from 1959 to 1969. She went from being a carefree teenage girl who was about to graduate high school and pursue a college education, to having to work instead. She went from enjoying a comfortable life to having to turn everything that she owned to the government. She went from spending days in the popular Havana clubs to spending hours doing lines to be able to buy a pound of sugar or a liter of milk or a package of cotton. In the blink of an eye, her world was turned upside down. And once again, six decades later, her world has been turned upside down. Our entire world has been turned upside down.

Today, I found “Angel Soft” toilet paper. I had been able to find other brands, but not my favorite. When I got out of Publix, I called her: “Mami, por fin encontré ‘Angel Soft’” (I finally found “Angel Soft”), I told her. She answered me that she had found some the other day and had it in the trunk of her car to give it to me. That’s my mother. In the midst of the hard times, she is always thinking of others first. She told me that she has in her trunk toilet paper for me, hand soap for my daughter who mentioned last Sunday that she had not been able to find it, Bounty paper towel for whomever needs it, and cans of food to drop off at the church.

On this weekend, I want to honor my mother, because I know that even though she has not said a word, this pandemic is being especially difficult for her. My mother is a people-person, so having to be isolated from her friends, from her family, from the world... has to be very hard for her, and yet, she has not uttered a word of complaint. Yes, every morning when I ask her: “How are you doing?”, she responds “aqui, lo mismo de lo mismo de lo mismo,” (here, the same, the same, the same.) I know she would give anything to be able to go to the mall, to go to lunch with her friends or to spend the day with me, but instead she goes around Miami searching for the toilet paper that she knows I like, or for a puzzle to give her grandkids or to every pharmacy in town looking for alcohol simply because I told her that I haven’t been able to find it anywhere, and she knows that alcohol has always been my Windex.

My mother has a lot of wisdom about facing difficulties. Instead of complaining, she finds a way to bring comfort to herself by helping others. And she doesn’t mince words, she is authentic. Just like Coco Chanel who stated, “Hard times arouse an instinctive desire for authenticity,” my mother is authentic. She lives an authentic life by being true to herself and others. And that is a big lesson that I am learning from her, because if you live authentically, hard times become easier to face. A few weeks ago when I mentioned that I could not find “Angel Soft” toilet paper, and that I had gotten spoiled because I was very picky about my toilet paper, she said to me: “En momentos difíciles, cualquier marca de papel higiénico sirve, hasta una servilleta sirve.” (In difficult moments, any brand of toilet paper is good; even a napkin works.” 

It took me fifty years to figure it out, but I finally understand why she stood in line to buy cotton, and why she kept going back for more. I can just imagine her delivering packages of cotton to all her neighbors, because that is my mother, always putting others needs ahead of her own. And when it comes to toilet paper, she is right, it doesn’t matter what brand it is, the important thing is that it serves its purpose. Yes, just like Coco Chanel, my mother has a lot of common sense and wisdom, and, fortunately, she is sharing that wisdom with me. But I still prefer my “Angel Soft,” and mom knows. Thank you for always thinking of me, mami. Feliz Día de las Madres. Happy Mother’s Day.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.