Man of Two Havanas

Okay, here's the situation. I was born in Havana. That makes me Cuban. But, I was raised in little Havana, which makes me Cuban-American. However, since I don't see Castro as the root of all evil in the universe, nor would I strangle him with my bare hands given the opportunity, I am a little out of step with my tribe. I always have been. And I really don't care. My dad, on the other hand, does care. He cares a great deal. Back in Havana he was a revolutionary and fought alongside Castro for the freedom of the Cuban people. Then he had a falling out with his old friend and it was Miami, here we come. But his animosity towards Castro did not last and he soon wanted dialogue with the Cuban government. Perhaps, to live in peace. That's when the shit hit the fan. Bombings, death threats and drive by shootings were a daily occurrence in our home. But who would do this to us? We were Americans. Surely, it must be the Communists, right? Wrong.