REMINISCING ABOUT MY SCHOOL MEDALS

Back in Cuba, in the district known as La Víbora, Havana, el Colegio Champagnat, also known as los Maristas (Marist Brothers) was my educational institution from kindergarten to high school. There, I learned to read, to think, and to learn valuable moral and civic lessons in addition to the usual academic subjects. By the time I finished high school, I had accumulated 48 medals, 47 gold and one silver, I believe was the distribution. My father made me a beautiful wood and glass case to keep them in display. It hung in one of the walls of my bedroom.

The school awarded me these medals in recognition for my work and dedication as a student. I would usually win in the categories of “conduct,” “application,” and “(academic) excellence,” ending up one of the top three or four in my class. My grades were usually A’s, with only a couple of B grades sprinkled here and there. Every year, at the end of the school year ceremony, the principal would call out the names of the winners in the different categories and give out the medals. My parents were always there, God bless them. I was happy to make them proud, year after year.

At the age of seventeen, I came to the United States and had to leave my medals behind. Otherwise, the big thief Castro or one of his franchisees at the airport would have confiscated (stolen) them. Four years later, my parents left for Spain where they stayed for ten months before coming to America. They left the medals with my aunt Rosa. Right now, she is about ninety years old, living with my cousin in Spain. He brought her there due to health problems. I do not think she is going back to Cuba. You probably know where I am heading.

I have not asked my aunt about the medals, first because she is old and I do not want her to get upset if she does not remember what happened to the medals. To ask would not serve any purpose. If the medals are still somewhere in her house in Cuba, I am not going back until Castro and his regime are gone anyway. If they are not there, then somebody stole them or traded them for food or some other goods. That is okay. Because of Castro’s revolution, the Cuban people have lost things that are much more valuable. Life and liberty are two of those things. My potential loss is small in comparison. Even if I never see those medals again, nobody can take away the knowledge that I earned them well. As long as I live, I will be proud of those accomplishments.

Recommended Reading: Ercian Testament - Part I, chapter 2 “The Mind.”