<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sun, 08 Sep 2024 03:41:52 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>COVID</category><category>pandemic</category><title>Antojitos y Alabanzas</title><description></description><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-1057894907486134817</guid><pubDate>Sun, 16 May 2021 01:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2021-05-15T22:13:41.818-04:00</atom:updated><title>Of Masks and Honor 😷🎭</title><atom:summary type="text">Reasons why I’ll continue to wear a mask most of the time outside even though vaccinated:• Both Philip and I have underlying health issues that weaken our immune systems, and we don’t want to take unnecessary risks.• Two of our (fully-vaccinated) adult children also have autoimmune conditions, and it’s too early to tell how that might affect the efficacy of the immunization.• Four of my </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2021/05/of-masks-and-honor.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGOjbDt12ZvUWDEtGYdo5TQ-SKnhIqNwvV-9niFIOvfrAZhwXQphCkRuSd-aCiBXV2n0Rwn85THoQ0ksBnQCeMYs_cLfrQ_KVcHqhuvJoyx7V-NNG-kHVQlm2LlYAdcK6Y-TeIFJytPK8/s72-c/IMG_3521.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-295781456546893291</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Mar 2021 02:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2021-03-06T22:09:24.322-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">COVID</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">pandemic</category><title>#OTD 2020</title><atom:summary type="text">March 6, 2020 turned out to be my last regular day in the office where I have worked for almost 21 years, in a building in which I&#39;ve worked and to which I&#39;ve commuted daily since 1993.&amp;nbsp;The following week was one to remember. On Sunday, March 8, I left for the airport immediately after worship to attend a three-day event in Tennessee.&amp;nbsp;I was home for one day that week - Wednesday - </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2021/03/otd-2020.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKxWFWsd9XeW6IDN1iSZ4xP_unHkiE9dq0ZXaA8vsV1FzPYHHFrj7Uiut5rjA9aedi4LrAuDFOhUg7ayJg0-zEgHvx4Imoydi6sAiXK1g5q1cuevx0QP1bHXRPX1IelnjAeJJKDqGk-i0/s72-w240-h320-c/B8280185-B4F0-4EB4-8FD5-74D1BB056D23.jpeg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-7132075057069588757</guid><pubDate>Sun, 12 Feb 2017 22:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2017-02-13T20:18:19.737-05:00</atom:updated><title>Sin embargo, ella persistió</title><atom:summary type="text">
I have appreciated the many memes and posts these past few days lifting up the words, &quot;Nevertheless, she persisted.&quot; Yet, I cannot think of women&#39;s fierce persistence without reflecting on the matriarchs who came before.&amp;nbsp;





In my family, I think of the persistence of that generation of women who, as jovencitas in the old country, left school early in order to help support their families;</atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2017/02/sin-embargo-ella-persistio.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kAH32uKNrusjku_Iy62L7FyAe1M_G3bd1xbaMBnB7yurZ-piXIRdqYJ0kFxaMlvQX5DYo-tGgM9JAVHeuS3k8oybzwzbZRttRy4QMEN42u1ER3erAJf0uPuJRro0ln3H5-OQUlubby4/s72-c/IMG_1117.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-3165825710904410526</guid><pubDate>Sat, 07 Jan 2017 23:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2017-01-07T20:36:59.247-05:00</atom:updated><title>Gimme Mystery</title><atom:summary type="text">January 7, 1962.



Fifty-five years ago today, I made my First Communion at Saint Michael&#39;s Roman Catholic Church in Manhattan.

My understanding of communion has changed/continues to change through the years of my eclectic spiritual sojourn... Sacrament or ordinance? Open or closed? Transsubstantiation, symbol, or real presence?

Not sure my answers today would be any clearer or more </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2017/01/mysteries-and-holy-smirks.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhld7dLW7kFgDz1J2XEr8XATqMX815iabXvDyeUUNg_DcZ_kvNqIxl-VwCEsJlZmNu9VX3pRa7vh0wgS1Lr-bVprXr5WOXdKvWPyozg-M68DcYdjMbA0OhMDhuNpfTnWNKJuGIOCKG3aq0/s72-c/IMG_0975.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-6848648115761113389</guid><pubDate>Sun, 13 Nov 2016 20:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2016-11-13T15:15:49.967-05:00</atom:updated><title>What Next? A Post-Election Day Sabbath Reflection</title><atom:summary type="text">Isaiah 65:17-25
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Luke 21:5-19

 
I’m quite certain my hair has gotten whiter over the past week. A few months ago my mother, a striking nearly 90-something matriarch, pondered aloud about the strangeness of having a daughter who was blanca en canas&amp;nbsp;– roughly translated, a gray-haired old woman. Now, she makes certain I understand that gray hair comes from my father’s </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2016/11/what-next-post-election-day-sabbath.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-594777374013030348</guid><pubDate>Tue, 06 Nov 2012 05:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-06T20:39:49.897-05:00</atom:updated><title>The Old Hippie Behind the Curtain</title><atom:summary type="text">&lt;!-- /* Font Definitions */@font-face {font-family:&quot;ＭＳ 明朝&quot;; mso-font-charset:78; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 18 0 131231 0;}@font-face {font-family:&quot;Cambria Math&quot;; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} /* Style </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-old-hippie-behind-curtain.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOrnKOta1StZkGP1fOG386hI9ap3txCkQIa26FxKJNwoh3MLFiZrdakptTIxPOrZrW9AMLgOkVw0TxfCFktyDj-_ioq-8dT4DWH2z_ALn7H81j4t6HckQ-na-fOdgA1aUYuJjOd0GGXQ/s72-c/photo.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-1634505661800698700</guid><pubDate>Mon, 14 May 2012 01:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-14T16:25:12.977-04:00</atom:updated><title>Ch-Ch-Changes</title><atom:summary type="text">


It wasn’t all that long ago that she was leaping out of her crib, fearlessly scaling a chest of drawers and turning our lives inside out and upside down. Today, my youngest daughter graduates from college, cum laude, ready to take on the world.



The celebration of a milestone invokes nostalgic memories. And so, to mark this occasion,&amp;nbsp;I’m dusting off a piece that Victoria inspired a long</atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2012/05/ch-ch-changes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGDL0jDGeKhLMUH1ca4lWDwx9xjXt6z3-0JYcTjQ4S3Yu6GgLysZiLzCuve10iqiiducxd7a40gPfwRZzKhis-09bKa5Eycidp-C3U-yS7kdmdD_2cNwMTxSkBQVkSo9WLVSgSWwswsk/s72-c/Scan+5.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-1637633934937279667</guid><pubDate>Tue, 01 May 2012 04:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-09-06T15:49:53.331-04:00</atom:updated><title>Sister Act</title><atom:summary type="text">
And as a sister and a friend,&amp;nbsp;

I’ll be a sister ‘til the end,


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 </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2012/05/sister-act.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9cAvUvM4FN7CAO5jOYgFxGLFy8BQd95bj6w5Ruletx6yQe8_3IfRawiQqP_PIhHolSIS4htBSGr9_GInxgHpf52cVTlm4u5TFICgPa-6vvUkQejRT3qfAUl9Tkxt7WYcX1jPdMZ3RSc/s72-c/DSCN0322.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-7094697452888718110</guid><pubDate>Thu, 27 May 2010 17:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:12:49.622-04:00</atom:updated><title>Gleefully Yours</title><atom:summary type="text">
May 27, 2010



Coach Sue Sylvester

William McKinley High School

Lima, Ohio



Dear Ms. Sylvester,



First let me say that I agree with you that Will Schuester looks like he spends an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror, armed with hair grooming products. And his dimpled chin really does look like a baby’s bottom, depending on the angle and lighting.



And, as one fabulously </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2010/05/gleefully-yours.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-7641389713163060729</guid><pubDate>Mon, 24 May 2010 22:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:12:59.623-04:00</atom:updated><title>Requiem</title><atom:summary type="text">
As denizens of a city where the Naked Cowboy poses for pictures with tourists in sub-freezing temperatures directly across the street from where a zealous street evangelist preaches apocalyptic doom and street vendors hawk pirated DVDs and (what they would like potential buyers to believe are real) Rolex watches, New Yorkers aren’t easily fazed. But every now and then, something does manage to </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2010/05/requiem.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-uoI9jPaiIUapW4bcyCTCwjHJ4NGhVo53uzEvbt1uq7FHvsAMQrFpm7ddGKjFJnlNFKjU33R_ZnBfOcvu7OcSsYlBJPVZl7p-BUOWFg6cz1ucoWeXo4oWb9AOwQ4C3mgkWUSQd5nzLw/s72-c/DSCN0322.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-4662579845283988328</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Apr 2010 23:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:13:11.286-04:00</atom:updated><title>Busted While Latina</title><atom:summary type="text">
I guess I won’t be visiting Arizona again anytime soon.



It’s sad, because Arizona is such a lovely place that you almost forget some of its messier history, like all that unpleasantness around the observance of the Martin Luther King holiday back in the 1980s and 1990s. Or that once upon a time, say about a year and a half ago, its senior Senator-turned-presidential candidate (who had also </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2010/04/busted-while-latina.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-973957471398130095</guid><pubDate>Wed, 30 Dec 2009 13:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:13:26.819-04:00</atom:updated><title>Benigno&#39;s Passover</title><atom:summary type="text">
Every December 30 for as long as I could remember, my father recounted the story of his arrival in the United States. 



The first member of the family to emigrate to los Estados Unidos, he had boarded a plane at Aeropuerto Rancho Boyeros in La Habana on a resplendent Caribbean morning on the next-to-last day of 1956. (In a few years, the air thick with the intoxicating spirit of revolutionary </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/12/benignos-passover.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-hN9XMIlcdrsKETalnWW5RefRlMkcHwvvjaYjmXJK9k8LXBimlqBvRfNgt_zNOZfcUfd92WBboSyRoKGP-DH3bVzdquAB4aAsAT460PuQuoE6S66hw2Odp78mQVPYa5I_9DGpWbMWtk/s72-c/8-8-09.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-9073531943428012114</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 Dec 2009 06:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:15:55.983-04:00</atom:updated><title>Tweet, Tweet</title><atom:summary type="text">
A long time ago (which is to say until about February of this year), I firmly believed that social media were, at best, tools of the devil; a cyber-playground for what a former colleague used to call the &quot;chronologically challenged&quot; whose frontal lobes, through no fault of their own, simply weren&#39;t sufficiently developed to make good judgments about the long-term consequences of living an </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/12/tweet-tweet.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZy8uz7BIfPNXdBOFYv6Eq0nXIYxVAWlNvLjtBExPtu7EJdPLux1A6MIHXVTGKMris7SajpBhf_qxOHWvmFsM5Ul0sSPZoccQ75HETltNzGR5JX60G4D_5WNd8m6oUY4cUqQjbcVNoy8/s72-c/Gmail+-+Yoani+Maria+Sanchez+.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-6797444972179034188</guid><pubDate>Thu, 03 Dec 2009 04:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:16:34.387-04:00</atom:updated><title>Degrees of Separation</title><atom:summary type="text">
Inspired by the (mis)adventures of Michaele and Tareq Salahi, Philip&#39;s latest blog post recounts the story of the time we, too, crashed the White House – well, sort of. What he didn’t mention was that 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue isn’t the only presidential residence where we’ve made our presence known.



In 1999, three years after our wanderings through forbidden corridors of the White House, we </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/12/degrees-of-separation.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9NUhq2r30l_2mtacX8Ejlfgm4FsyHVRj2tpPli-oo5fcpILw8nrYPPjYvF5vIkzGPZE93ds8X1nsERopeIHb8tKoHv7Y28RkAgBYGEw2WY11vn0ddKOscfP6l8_NaTMhwbCJ0evsV8Q4/s72-c/Benigno.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-7559249493416546439</guid><pubDate>Wed, 02 Dec 2009 04:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:18:13.726-04:00</atom:updated><title>Siento Hermosa</title><atom:summary type="text">
Andy: So none of the girls here eat anything? 

Nigel: Not since 2 became new 4 and 0 became the new 2. 

Andy: Well, I&#39;m a 6... 

Nigel: Which is the new 14.



– Conversation between Anne Hathaway (as Andy) and Stanley Tucci (Nigel) in the movie, The Devil Wears Prada



We moved into our home the year Victoria, our youngest, was born. Now that she’s almost 20 – and fearful that a video crew </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/12/siento-hermosa.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQichhyk1TX11aAF1qfPNucwMJv6S6pzBG2odTGaL6Y06vpQ6ypWpou65-UFBdcyOzKR2EAxNAhkH88jGAKJfQy8Am-F0RmNh62To1T1aFGG9ikqKLNVDoC5AHOOoPLkwY0ott-E8kqo/s72-c/Siento+Hermosa.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-4171165797443492153</guid><pubDate>Sun, 15 Nov 2009 19:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:18:51.973-04:00</atom:updated><title>Oh Montes, Where Art Thou?</title><atom:summary type="text">
Some of you are already following The Little Scroll, written by my spouse (and caricaturist extraordinaire) Philip Jenks. Recently, he linked his readers to Antojitos y Alabanzas, something that would have been described as an example of shameless cross-selling in the Marketing 101 class I took a couple of years ago. In any case, if you aren’t a Scroll follower, you should be. The blog traces </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-montes-where-art-thou.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-3819754353628134406</guid><pubDate>Thu, 05 Nov 2009 23:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:19:42.079-04:00</atom:updated><title>Set Loose</title><atom:summary type="text">
For almost two years, Padre Santiago and I have been meeting – more or less regularly – in a convent that was once home to women called to be brides of Christ. We sit in the office of one of the few remaining sisters, a veteran of more than 50 years who, on this particular evening, has left behind a large doll dressed in the traditional habit of the order – starched white wimple; black veil and </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/11/set-loose.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-1260790772428074555</guid><pubDate>Sat, 26 Sep 2009 00:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:20:31.213-04:00</atom:updated><title>Dermie &amp; Me</title><atom:summary type="text">
It was at a wedding that I first became aware of Dermie. And a wedding would be the last place we would ever see each other.



The first nuptials were a quiet affair in 1960, with only six people present – the bride and groom; the matron of honor and best man; Dermie; and me, the almost six-year old child of the couple stating vows before God and all present. 



My parents’ wedding day nine </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/09/dermie-me.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDPuBoas2T_wDl7fSzX4Kb_dIuQWNS6QBGWfmwAIoXX9SkFiPfAsfxPxycrWjIzOP-Av_eT6ZcWLhj3CWb9k-UGfR7aXTtVa7eU8ynx0dMIEJH6Tl9jMAcUgPFM_YM67S2aaW5YTCUT0/s72-c/AJuliayBenigno.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9211385402452448965.post-335209043977148433</guid><pubDate>Fri, 18 Sep 2009 13:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-01T20:24:07.817-04:00</atom:updated><title>Next Year...</title><atom:summary type="text">
Just about now, my cousin Nelson is probably looking out the window at a lush landscape as his plane begins the descent into José Martí International Airport in the elegant Rancho Boyeros section of La Habana, once home to nightclubs with names like Bambú and Mulgoba and Topeka recommended in 1950s travel guides for their “typical Cuban nightclub” atmosphere and “good music and shows.”

The </atom:summary><link>http://martha-antojitosyalabanzas.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-about-now-my-cousin-nelson-is.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Martha M. Cruz)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1raA5RKc3NL5PUFnqEuc9GCZH6fOHQkwRjfZieE_t4RQc-NXwfVR7tm_ZEKi17mwK6Ibuk2iCXTBLgePS65b1gDMTFBeYCMzwiZQ4Gw8ZEMeRHcGjcszJ4G4pw32IEcrb1bnYwb2BCM/s72-c/Nelson.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item></channel></rss>