With a Diamond in My Shoe

Jorge J. E. Gracia

Description

In 1961, at the age of nineteen, Jorge J. E. Gracia escaped from the island of Cuba by passing himself off as a Catholic seminarian. He arrived in the United States with just a few spare belongings and his mother's diamond ring secured in a hole in one of his shoes. With a Diamond in My Shoe tells the story of Gracia's quest for identity—from his early years in Cuba and as a refugee in Miami to his formative role in institutionalizing the field of Latin American philosophy in the US academy. Committed to integrating into Anglo America without forgetting his roots, Gracia reflects on his struggles and successes as an immigrant and academic, bringing a philosopher's eye to bear on his personal and professional development as a leading Latinx scholar.
List of Illustrations
Prologue (2018)

1. Farewell to Cuba (1961)

2. Good Morning, America (1961–1962)

3. Hungry in Miami (1961)

4. A Gate to the Real America (1962)

5. Foreigner in a Foreign Land (1962–1965)

6. Surviving Evangelical Fundamentalism (1962–1965)

7. Knowing Myself (1962–1965)

8. Make Love, Not War (1965–1966)

9. Becoming a Medievalist (1966–1969)

10. Pilgrimage to Europe (1969–1971)

11. Landing a Job, with Verve (1971)

12. Buffalo Department of Philosophy (1971–1973)

13. The Vocation and Profession of Philosophy (1975)

14. Two Alternative Research Programs (1971–1974)

15. Medieval Philosophy (1975–1985)

16. Latin American Philosophy in the United States (1939–1985)

17. From Rookie to Chair (1980–1986)

18. Beyond Medieval and Latin American Philosophy (1990–2000)

19. The Call of Ethnic, Racial, and National Identities (2000–present)

20. A Place for Literature and the Arts (2005–present)

21. From Hispanic to Latino and Latinx Philosophy (2000–present)

22. Return to Philosophy through Its History (1990–2000)

23. A Paradigm of Courage (1971–1976)

Epilogue: With a Diamond in My Mind

Acknowledgments

Sujets

• Caribbean
• Latin America
• Latin American

Informations

• Publié par: State University of New York Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781438477299
• Langue: English

Extrait

With a Diamond in My Shoe
SUNY series in Latin American and Iberian Thought and Culture

Jorge J. E. Gracia and Rosemary G. Feal, editors
With a Diamond in My Shoe
A Philosopher’s Search for Identity in America
Jorge J. E. Gracia
On the cover: Isla en crisis , by Humberto Calzada, courtesy of the artist
Published by State University of New York Press, Albany
© 2019 State University of New York Press
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. No part of this book may be stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
For information, contact State University of New York Press, Albany, NY
www.sunypress.edu
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Gracia, Jorge J. E., author.
Title: With a diamond in my shoe : a philosopher’s search for identity in America / Jorge J. E. Gracia.
Description: Albany : State University of New York Press, [2019] | Series: SUNY series in Latin American and Iberian thought and culture
Identifiers: LCCN 2019018550 | ISBN 9781438477275 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781438477282 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781438477299 (ebk.)
Subjects: LCSH: Gracia, Jorge J. E. | Philosophers—United States—Biography. | Philosophy, Latin American. | Hispanic Americans—Ethnic identity.
Classification: LCC B945.G7274 A3 2019 | DDC 191 [B]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019018550
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For the United States and Canada,
the countries that gave me refuge in a moment of need,
and for Cuba,
where I was born and raised.
Contents
List of Illustrations
Prologue (2018)
1 Farewell to Cuba (1961)
2 Good Morning, America (1961–1962)
3 Hungry in Miami (1961)
4 A Gate to the Real America (1962)
5 Foreigner in a Foreign Land (1962–1965)
6 Surviving Evangelical Fundamentalism (1962–1965)
7 Knowing Myself (1962–1965)
8 Make Love, Not War (1965–1966)
9 Becoming a Medievalist (1966–1969)
10 Pilgrimage to Europe (1969–1971)
11 Landing a Job, with Verve (1971)
12 Buffalo Department of Philosophy (1971–1973)
13 The Vocation and Profession of Philosophy (1975)
14 Two Alternative Research Programs (1971–1974)
15 Medieval Philosophy (1975–1985)
16 Latin American Philosophy in the United States (1939–1985)
17 From Rookie to Chair (1980–1986)
18 Beyond Medieval and Latin American Philosophy (1990–2000)
19 The Call of Ethnic, Racial, and National Identities (2000–present)
20 A Place for Literature and the Arts (2005–present)
21 From Hispanic to Latino and Latinx Philosophy (2000–present)
22 Return to Philosophy through Its History (1990–2000)
23 A Paradigm of Courage (1971–1976)
Epilogue: With a Diamond in My Mind
Acknowledgments
Illustrations
With my family in Cuba
The diamond in my shoe
Appropriated Memories: Havana Harbor, Cuba (view of El Morro), by Alberto Rey
My Cuban passport photo, age eighteen
Wheaton College, in my room
Wedding day, reception at International House
Wearing the Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies academic regalia
Spain, Salamanca, university, front view, 1905
On my sixth birthday with the beautiful mare Yegüita
Finally settled in Buffalo
Risieri Frondizi
With UB president William R. Greiner at the SUNY Distinguished Professors award ceremony
High school graduation day, with my mother, Leonila Gracia (Cuba 1960)
With Norma and grandchildren James Griffin, Clarisa Griffin, Sofia Taberski, and Eva Taberski
Prologue (2018)
T his is the story of the American Dream becoming a reality, the story of a Cuban refugee who entered the United States on the day he turned nineteen, alone, without a supporting family, and with no knowledge of the English language or American culture. It is a story about identity, about a Cuban who, without forgetting his roots, became Canadian, American, Hispanic, Latino, and Latinx in order to survive and thrive. More concretely, it is an individual’s search for identity and the place of philosophy and its history within it. Nowhere else in the world could this story be duplicated. Only in a country that seeks to be a land of opportunity, of unfettered freedom, where merit can take precedence over lineage, position, money, and influence, a land that aims to reward talent, hard work, and honesty, promising the opportunity of free and open discussion, would this be. And it is, of course, my story.
It was on 9/11, while watching the burning towers of the World Trade Center, that I first fully understood how much I owed to the United States. Yes, I am one of the most fierce and unrelenting critics of our faults as Americans, of a past tainted by racial and ethnic discrimination against some of our own people that still survives, and too often thrives, in the present, of a country daringly capable of electing as president a black man in a society with racist overtones. But my criticisms are meant to be constructive in that they arise from a desire to make better what is already good in many ways. I have never cast doubt on the love and gratitude that is at its roots.
My grieving for the victims of this unpardonable act of violence inflicted on innocent people made me recognize the significance of America for me. My grieving lasted for weeks. Its object was not just the group of those who had died, but also the nation as a whole that had been wounded, and even those of us who were immigrants, in the country that had generously opened its doors to me, thus making possible the uniquely rewarding life of the philosopher.

With my family in Cuba. My parents ( seated ) Ignacio and Leonila, and ( standing from left ) my sister, Nena, Aunt Rosario, and myself. Photograph courtesy of the author.
1
Farewell to Cuba (1961)
M ost of those who left Cuba in the first few years after the triumph of Castro’s Revolution on January 1, 1959, traveled by air, and their departure was anything but memorable. I am told that at the airport they were placed in a room, separated from relatives and friends, together with people they didn’t know, strangers for whom, under the circumstances, they did not care, and of whom they were afraid. They could be informants, waiting for them to let down their guard and say something that might be used against them as a way of instilling terror in their victims, and most likely as an excuse for an arrest, thwarting their only chance to escape the nightmare that the revolution, which had promised so much, had become.
So they waited, frightened, nervous, over long hours that seemed interminable, eventually boarding a plane with small windows that allowed a view as limited as it was significant. They needed to see those on the ground, the family and friends of whom they hoped to have at least a glimpse before the plane departed. This was perhaps the last opportunity for them to do so, maybe for the last time in their lives. They had to work hard to get some tears going under these pedestrian circumstances and to feel appropriately sad rather than merely frustrated, afraid, and exhausted.
My departure, in contrast, was intensely dramatic and very different, except for the fear that gripped me, allowing plenty of opportunity for regret, suffering, tears, and even guilt for leaving my loved ones behind. I left by sea, on the last ferry that sailed from Havana to West Palm Beach—a ship formerly used by wealthy vacationers who went to the beach to play and that had now become a way to escape from Cuba. The farewell was prolonged and emotional, extending for a whole day, and symbolically ending at dusk, just before night enveloped us in its indecipherable intent.
Passengers had to report to the ferry terminal early in the morning and thus spent the entire day there, ill prepared to face the reality of their state of mind after a sleepless night. Preparations for my trip had taken some time and considerable effort. Although I was not a seminarian and had no visa to enter the United States, ecclesiastic or otherwise, I was included in a group of seminarians who were leaving for Miami to join their associates. Shortly after, Castro placed the foreign-born priests and members of religious orders onto a ship and sent them to Spain. Only Cuban-born clergy and members of religious orders were allowed to remain in Cuba, at least for the moment.
Some Cuban-born seminarians also remained, but even before I left, rumors circulated about the imminent closing of the Seminary El Buen Pastor, where most of them were studying for a religious life. The exodus of members of the Catholic establishment had begun, and only increased as time went by. Not enough teachers were available to train seminarians and the Archdiocese of Havana was looking for ways to send them to other countries to continue their training, graduate, and eventually return to Cuba when conditions permitted it.
The situation was increasingly pressing, and the Catholic hierarchy was particularly intent on sending seminarians to the United States because of its proximity to Cuba and the support, particularly financial, on which they could count from the Church hierarchy in Florid