The Man in the Window

Hello, hungry people.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about that man in the window.

I took the photo several years ago when Debbie and I traveled to Cuba with some friends and rented an apartment on Calle Habana just a few blocks from the city’s famed Malecón.

It was a great trip. We walked and walked and walked. We roamed past dilapidated old buildings that still held dignity. We ate good food. We heard excellent music. We hired a driver with a 1954 Chevy Bel Air and rode around the countryside. And everywhere we were greeted with warmth and kindness and a generosity of spirit I’ve encountered in precious few places on this planet.

***

This is not to say everything was bright and shiny and wonderful. It wasn’t.

The grocery shelves were almost empty and people stood in long lines to buy what little was there. The power went out for a few hours every day. The faucets and showerheads could produce only bare dribbles of water,.

Yet, things weren’t awful. The U.S. embargo was well into its sixth decade. But the situation had begun to thaw a bit. There was hope. Tourism was picking up. Restaurants and bars were crowded and lively. There were lots of other Americans, plenty of European visitors, too.

The woman who owned the apartment where we stayed was optimistic. She and her handyman husband had bought a second apartment to rent out to foreign visitors, anticipating good days ahead.

***

Each morning, I’d sit on our balcony with a cup of coffee.

And each morning, the man across the street would sit in a chair by the window with a cup of coffee, too.

The first day, we exchanged nods. The second day, he raised his cup in a toast, and I raised mine. By the end of the week, we were waving at each other across Calle Habana.

I never learned his name. Never saw him out on the street.

He was just the man in the window.

***
Who knows what will happen with Cuba.

Thanks to the U.S. oil blockade, launched by the Very Stable Genius after his shenanigans in Venezuela to seize that nation’s oil supply, the situation in Cuba is grim.

Yes, it will likely result in a change of regime. But it’s diplomacy by cruelty.

Cuba’s power grid has crashed. Many homes are without electricity, and those that have it can count on only a few hours of power a day. Water is in short supply. Hospitals have closed. Flights bringing vital medical supplies have been suspended because Cuba can no longer refuel outbound airplanes at its airports. I read an Associated Press story yesterday that said there are more than 32,000 pregnant women in Cuba, most of whom face giving birth without proper medical care.

The majority of blame for these dire circumstances does not rest on the U.S. The Cuban regime is corrupt and oppressive and incompetent. It has let the island infrastructure go to hell while its leaders have profited off the backs of its people. There are nearly 2,000 political prisoners in its jails, the most of any country in the Americas. Not counting, of course, how you classify the 68,000 undocumented immigrants currently held in U.S. detention centers.

But I’ll not speak to the corruptness, oppressiveness and incompetence of the current U.S. regime. It speaks for itself, too loudly, every day.

***

To listen to the Very Stable Genius, the island-nation’s fate rests with him.

“I believe I will have the honor of taking Cuba,” he said earlier this week. “Whether I free it or take it, I think I can do anything I want with it.”

Me want. Me take. Me, me, me.

Such is our world these days. The bad being displaced by the not-quite-so-bad . . . but still awful.

Lucky us.

***
On our last morning in Cuba, I finished my coffee on the balcony and got up to leave. The man in the window watched me.

“Chao!” I shouted across Calle Habana.

“Goodbye!” he shouted back, giving me a big wave.

That’s when I took the photo. It’s blurry and poorly exposed, and it haunts me.

This morning, I raise my cup to that man in the window. And to all of us who know this is not the way the world should be.

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