Did I Save Marco Rubio?

By chance, no bravery involved, I may have saved a couple of kids from drowning when I was growing up. One kid fell through an ice covered, water filled foundation when I was about nine. I held onto his arm until my cousin ran home to get her father to pull him up. Years later, when I was 16, I carried a young Cuban boy from the water off South Beach.

At that time that portion of Miami Beach was not the destination it is now. In the early 1960's, the old hotels weren't fashionable, they were just old. Pensioned retirees rented the rooms by the month. The Cubans were just starting to flee Castro's takeover of that country. I knew of no such things back then, I was just visiting with a family friend who lived in a modern high-rise facing the bay.

Somehow, later that year, I received a letter from the boy's older sister thanking me for saving her brother. Years ago on this blog, I told the story of finding a diary in an old chest in Virginia. Years later, that blog post found its way to someone who recognized who I was writing about. I know that it wasn't Marco Rubio I pulled from the ocean. The boy now would be about 70 years old.