Belen is indeed everywhere

I had been feeling pretty bummed that I would miss the Gian Zumpano Aquatic Center Blessing & Inauguration on June 6 because it coincides with a conference that I have in London on the very same day. Given that I had to be in the UK for the conference anyway, my wife Carmen and I decided to do a no-kids, 5-day getaway in Scotland the week before. I was certainly looking forward to these few days with the missus, but from the moment I got on the plane on Monday, May 28th, I was thinking that I was going to miss the blessing and inauguration ceremony for sure.

When we arrived, we took off on a very long drive between Edinburgh and the Isle of Skye in western Scotland. We really didn’t have a plan at all as to where we were going in between; we just knew that there are a lot of nice things to see and we would just play it by ear. One of the places we decided to stop was in the city of Stirling to see the Stirling Castle. The tour was pretty interesting, but we had to cut the experience short because we had such a long drive ahead of us. I wanted to pick up a couple of sandwiches at the castle cafeteria, just so we could save some time and eat on the way, but Carmen insisted that we find a nice local place to get the full Scottish experience. After a back and forth, I relented, of course, and we ended up going to a little place called Smithy’s near the castle, with great online reviews.

As we stepped in, we struck up a conversation with a couple of ladies, one of which appeared to be the owner. The fish and chips were great and the service was fantastic. When we finished we walked back to the reception area to pay, and as we were standing there waiting, I noticed something on the wall that I just never expected to see. I turned to the lady and asked, even though I knew the answer, “Is that a Cuban flag?” She said, “Yes it is”, with confidence. So I told her that I was Cuban and she responded with pride, “My dad was Cuban.”

Then, I asked the lady, “How did your dad end up in Scotland?” She replied, “My father was in World War II. He flew for the Canadian Royal Air Force and the British Royal Air Force.” Heck, I was starting to feel a little pride myself for this guy. I told her that I thought it was pretty cool that a fellow Cuban had done that. At this point I’m feeling pretty thankful that Carmen convinced me to come here. What a cool coincidence. The lady told me her name was Vivian Macnair and that her dad was always proud of being Cuban until the day he passed away. Vivian said that for some reason people always mistook him for an Argentinian, but that he was quick to correct them and say that he was Cuban. She said that he was very proud to be from Cuba, and also very proud to be from the city of Preston in the province of Oriente.

I wanted to know more about Vivian’s dad, like what brought him to Scotland and if he ever went back to Cuba. At this point, Carmen points out the fact that we had a very long drive ahead of us and Vivian had a restaurant to run. So I begin to say my goodbyes, and as we’re leaving I just turned and asked if he ever got to see Cuba again. Did he see the Cuban shores? Did he see Preston again? Like so many of us who would love to see the place of our birth, the city blocks where we played as kids on the street, I just wondered if he had ever gone back.

She replied, “Oh yes, he went back. There was no stopping him. And it wasn’t really Cuba, or even Preston, it was his school. He was always going on about the school he had attended in Cuba. We hardly heard about anything else. It was always about the school.” I must confess that I felt as if I almost knew the answer before I asked the question, “Do you remember the name of the school?” And Vivian, whose accent is almost incomprehensible, pronounces in perfect Spanish, “Belén”.

I stared at her for just a few seconds and wondered where to start so as to not freak her out because at this point I’m pretty freaked out myself. I showed her my Belen ring and informed her that I graduated from Belen in 1986, and that both my sons are Belen students. By now, Carmen realizes our drive is on hold. During our earlier conversation, I hadn’t bothered to ask Vivian her dad’s name, but now I couldn’t resist. She said, “It’s Hogge, William Hogge.” She added that William was born in 1922 and I figured out he was likely from the class of 1939 or 1940. Immediately, I went to our online yearbook database to try and find him. Sure enough, I did! (On a side note… the yearbook database project is just awesome!)

So I had to write this, even though it is now 2AM in Scotland. As I write this I can’t stop thinking of my sons, Javi and Danny, my Belen brothers, and of Gian. I know that God always has a plan. This time He did not need me to be present with all my fellow 86’ers and with Gian’s spirit at the inauguration. He needed me to come here and meet William Hogge through his daughter, Vivian Macnair, and learn his story. I am still not sure why, but I have faith that one day I will find out.