David DeCosmo's Historical Broadcasting Career

The Roots of Cuban Writer, Juan Alborná Salado

By

Maria Jacketti

Juan Alborná Salado was born December 2, 1936 in the Quinta Covadonga section of Havana, into a house of educators and students of the English language, His literary destiny seemed unavoidable and altogether joyous, as books opened his mind to lands beyond his changing island.

At fourteen, Alborná enrolled in el Liceo de Regla, about which José Martí wrote. Fulgencio Batista overthrew the government in 1952, the same year that the young writer graduated from high school. During this time, he frequented the beaches of Cojímar, where Ernest Hemingway often strolled.

He recalls Hemingway as, " walking in sandals, he wore shorts and a baseball cap. A group of youngsters followed him, calling him 'el americano.'" Clearly, he was an object of much local fascination. During this time, and while basking in Hemingway's aura, Alborná and some of his friends were arrested briefly for anti-Batista activities. They spent several hours in jail and were bailed out by the father of one of his friends. Alborná told nothing of this to his father because he feared his reaction.

According to the writer, evidence of corruption in the Batista government became apparent soon after the coup. In 1954, he was named "Secretary Organizer" of the Partido Autentico (True Party) in Regla. "Dead and wounded students were everywhere. At times, they published a small newspaper using a mimeograph machine."

In 1958, all high schools and universities closed their doors, as the oppression of the Batista regime increased. Amid all this, the writer found his love. Yet nothing would be easy, as he found himself living what some might call a real Hemingway novel. He spent the greater part of 1957 and 1958, fleeing the repressive secret police of the Batista regime. "I believe they were creators of the death squads," wrote Alborná. "The prowled the streets during the wee hours of the morning, armed to the teeth."

Alborna's life turned distantly away from the adventure novels of his childhood. He would have to flee his home, but not in the manner of Huckleberry Finn, one of the favorite protagonists of his childhood. One morning, before the fall of Batista, at around 3 A.M., a member of the secret police knocked at the door of his home, awakening his mother, and he delivered to her this message, "Madam, we have not been able to detain your son, Junior, but don't worry. We are going to arrest him, and we are going to kill him."

Alborná spent the next year on the run, finding temporary shelter in abandoned houses and a bus, sleeping many times in the jungle. He endured much hunger and did not take refuge in the home of his aunts and uncles for fear of putting them in danger, too. Finally, in 1958, he sought asylum in the Salvadoran Embassy in Havana. He would celebrate the fall of Batista, the next year in San Salvador with other Cuban exiles, as they mounted a caravan, got drunk, published pamphlets, and spoke freely, believing their true liberation was at hand. However, Alborná and his group of thinkers were wrong. They would still have to face Castro, and their second round of problems was just beginning.

Alive and remembering today, Juan Alborná runs a literary magazine, which he publishes from his home in Miami. He continues to write fiction based on his youth in Cuba, and his exiles in El Salvador and America. His work provides great insight into two revolutions and the pain that has afflicted the collective Cuban heart for generations.

Copyright Maria Jacketti

A Decade of Climate Change in the Victory Garden

By

Maria Jacketti

Emerson wrote that the Earth "laughs in flowers." She also speaks in bees and cries– and downright shouts in storms. Gardeners, if they are to cultivate success, listen to what the Earth is saying: this requires a basic understanding of living pictures, kinetic, terrestrial hieroglyphs.

My gardening career started at about age five, when I discovered several flowers that would grow quickly and faithfully in poor soil. These buds were nasturtiums, morning glories, and what I thought then to be geographically unlikely California poppies. While I could understand why these cups of gold would be the state flower of California, it amazed me that they would make a home atop the Anthracite Mountains of Pennsylvania. Yet, they grew lavishly, something I credit not to any climatic luxuriance of Zone 5 but rather simple meteorological stability, predictable seasons. Decades later, and with much gardening experience evident under these fingernails, all three reliable flowers, struggled to bloom in the Victory Garden this season.

Changes Evident in the Victory Garden

Disease has also become far more rampant, with rust engendering a particularly flagrant problem. Organic neem oil proved to be a great help in treating a wide variety of these sad visitors; however, my experience shows that it takes time for the neem to kick in. Both the gardener and plants must demonstrate hardiness as patience with neem, since while most of the diseases are now either at bay or obliterated, it took a month of weekly oil treatments to accomplish this -- and not all plants survived.

While roses and calendulas have endured in the yard up until Christmas – something that should not happen in Zone 5 – the fruit trees are blooming now as much as a month earlier than scheduled. This has led to a documentable trend: late spring snow or ice storms, knock out the blooms, leading to a year without fruit, and in some cases extreme shock to the fruit trees, which genetically expect some degree of climatic consistency.

Ideally, we all strive for the Goldilocks Victory Garden, that place where conditions prove to be just right. As an organic gardener, I have done my part to create such scenarios, but my partner, the Earth, is struggling to comply, as drastic change over a simple decade points to accelerated climate change, something which must, at least cause us to think about the deeper causes before the cornucopia turns to dust.

Copyright Maria Jacketti