Category: Miami Stories

Miami has not always had a strong background in my family’s history, but we have begun to make it our home. Our story begins with my father, Bennie Holmes, who was born and raised in Miami but has few stories to tell about the experience. It seems many of his memories have dissolved with time. The few tales he does have are saturated with his youth and speak about immature actions, such as him stealing fruit from his neighbors’ mango trees.

However, one story does manage to stand out from the other mischievous ones, offering me a glimpse into the historical Miami race riots in 1980. He starkly remembers sitting on the bus as he and his fellow classmates watched demonstrations in the streets and acts of violence. Then, soon after his graduation from Miami Southridge high school, my father entered the military and met my mother, Roxanne Morton.

My mother is originally from Gary, Indiana, and was already the mother to my sister, Rhea Berry, who was 2 at the time. In a progressive switch of gender roles, my mother asked my father to marry her, and they quickly moved in together in Miami. My family, as it was budding with only three members, alternated between living in Miami and Indianapolis during this time period. My sister would often be sent to live with relatives in Indiana as my mother and father both strove to create a better home environment for her. When my brother was born he was also sent to live in Indiana with my sister, as making ends meet in Miami was becoming gradually more difficult.

Eventually, just a year and a half after my brother was born, I came along. After asking for many details over the years, I can give the details of my birth quite descriptively. It was a Monday in Miami, Florida, at Baptist Hospital. I was born on July 16 at 10:42 p.m. I was in Miami for just about three months before my mother flew with me to Indianapolis because she wanted to be closer with all of her kids.

My father stayed behind to work in Miami for a while and sent us money to keep a consistent amount of income. We found an apartment that we could all comfortably reside in. My father was the last to leave Miami and did not return for years. Within these 10 years I spent my childhood in Indiana, growing up in a culture vastly different from the one I would have come to know had my family stayed in Miami.

I have two homes. I owe a lot of who I am to Indiana, but Miami is where I defined who I am as I developed from an adolescent to a young adult. When I was 10 years old my father traveled back to Miami for the first time in 10 years to see his mother. I believe it was during this visit that my father realized how homesick he was, and a few months after he came home from his visit he requested that we move back to Miami.

Of course, the idea was not met with much resistance as everyone was quite keen on the idea of moving to Miami. My brother and I were only kids, and we did not even realize our history in Miami, just that it was a whole lot closer to Disney World than Indianapolis was. My sister, Rhea, had just graduated from Lawrence Central high school and was all for beginning her start in such a famous city.

Not much planning went into the idea of moving; it all happened in such a rush. My father called my grandmother Dorothy to ask if we could stay with her, and when she said yes, it jump started our move. Just a few months later our house was up for rent, our belongings were packed, and we were in a van driving to Miami from Indiana.

I did not realize the impact of our decision to move until the school year started. We had found a place to live on our own, a duplex, and my brother and I were enrolled at Cutler Ridge middle school. The cultural diversity was amazing.

In Indiana I was surrounded by predominantly Caucasian people, but when I moved here there were so many different races and ethnicities that opened my eyes up to the rest of the world around me. Hearing about the different places that these people had come from caused me to honestly take a look at myself and think about where I came from.

I’ve heard many people describe Miami as a “melting pot;” however, one idea that truly resonates with me is the “salad theory,” where, rather than different people coming to Miami to become like each other, various people come to Miami and bring their own unique aspects, and for the most part, everyone still lives in harmony together.

In Miami I have found my home in different ways. I watched my brother blossom and dwell more comfortably in the environment around him. My sister has found more opportunities than she can recount, and I have found an identity that I did not even know I was looking for at such a young age. I found people whom I honestly care about and have watched them grow into adults. My father has made his way back home again as a nurse and seems content with his life at 44. I could not have asked for a better home.

Miami is everyone’s home. Miami is a place with diverse cultures all in one area. Miami is my home and my family’s home. Miami mostly has Hispanics and people from the Caribbean but there’s a mix of everything here in Miami. I’ve lived here all of my life. I was born in Miami at Mercy Hospital, and when I got a bit older my family moved south of Miami.

My family from my mom’s side is from Honduras, while from my dad’s side they’re from Puerto Rico. I grew up in a Hispanic home, so most of the time everyone is speaking Spanish, Cuban coffee is always being made, and always we have rice and beans with chicken or any other type of meats. My family is the typical Hispanic family, but no one was born and raised here expect for my brother and me.

My mom was born in Honduras and raised there until she was 5 years old. Her mom wanted to start a new and better life, so she left Honduras, and when my mom was 5 years old her mom came back for her and took her to Miami. They started their new lives here in Miami. My mom would always say how when she came into this country that it was completely different. She said that coming to Miami wasn’t that hard, except for the language barrier. Most of the people here in Miami speak Spanish and English, so imagine coming from another country and only knowing one language. It was difficult for her to learn English because everyone was speaking Spanish most of the time, but she learned, and she speaks fluently.

My mother always tells me how happy she was about the decision her mother made to move to Miami. It doesn’t matter where you’re from, Miami makes you feel welcomed. For me, growing up was difficult because I was learning both languages at the same time. I had to learn how to speak, read, and write in English and Spanish. By the time I was in the first or second grade I knew both languages fluently. Adapting in Miami isn’t so hard because you can find people from the same culture, which means you feel more comfortable, but you still get a bit homesick.

Miami became my mom’s home and everyone else in my family. As I was growing up a lot of my family started to move to Miami to be closer to the rest of the family. My aunt from my mom’s side used to live in Honduras, but she moved here to Miami. My aunt left her kids in Honduras, but she did the same thing as her sister, and brought her kids into this country later.

By the time I was 9 years old my cousins were living here in Miami. They went through the same thing my mom went through when she came into this country. They had to learn English, which was hard for them, but they did it. Later on, after my cousins learned the language, they wanted to get their citizenship. They had to study everything from writing to reading and then history. After they passed and got their citizenship, my aunt wanted to get her citizenship, and by the end of the year she was also a citizen.

My family got very comfortable with Miami and it had a good effect on them. My family is very happy here where we are part of a bigger family with different backgrounds and cultures. You get welcomed everywhere you go. Everyone is so accepting and diverse, and you can be who you want to be. That’s why people feel so comfortable here in Miami.

This picture is an artifact and represents my family, the Parrilla family. In this photo it is New Year’s and we had a family get-together. The meaning in the picture is that no matter how far we live from each other we are still a family.

My family is a happy, crazy, funny family. They brought their own culture to Miami because there aren’t that many Hondurans down here. The Honduran restaurants, especially, are very limited and rare. My family makes Honduran food and sells it to different types of people who are interested in tasting it. Now, most of the family lives in Miami and the Honduran culture is getting noticeable. The picture represents my family’s happiness and how close we are and how much we love each other, no matter what.

“El Capitan,” a reliable, sturdy rod crafted by experts that has served my father and his father for years now. It has brought in fish, some worthy of taking a picture with, and some that should not even be mentioned. Something my father cherished, and something I now cherish.

Miami, Florida, a city and state that I have come to adore over the years of living here. Aside from the amazing fishing in the Florida Keys, the Hispanic-cultured restaurants, and thrilling theme parks, my parents have brought their own mix of culture to Miami. The Cuban and Colombian culture is nothing new to South Florida, but being able to pass it down to my siblings and me is a blessing from my parents.

Something my dad has invited to my life that I enjoy very much is the sport of fishing. Fishing is indeed a sport, but to my parents and me it is more than that. It is something you do to forget about work, school, or anything that causes stress. I recall being a young boy, somewhere around 3 or 4 years old, when my father brought me to a beach, and with his fishing rod he would patiently wait to hook a fish. Then he would hand me the rod in hopes that I would get hooked on fishing. I did.

My mother was not always a fan of fishing, however. She would get upset at my father for going fishing with her brother until 5 a.m. and leaving her at home with my brother and sister, who were still toddlers. (I was nonexistent then.) But one day my father convinced my mother to go with him. They left my siblings with her sister, and ever since that first night of fishing my father said she became addicted to it – the thrill of feeling the fishing rod throb, the fear of losing a big fish, and the funny jokes and conversations one has on the bridges or boat.

My parents find it strange how out of their three kids I was the only one who showed interest in the outdoors and outdoor hobbies. My father has taught me all kinds of tactics and methods to be an amazing fisherman, even the types of knots to do in order to compensate for weather conditions, type of fishing, and species type.

My father is passing two things down to me to keep not only his legacy but the items’ legacies alive: a yoyo and “El Capitan.” The yoyo is basically a very large ring that is wrapped with fishing line and used as an alternative fishing rod. This yoyo has been used by his father, and his father’s father and so on, making its way from Cuba and Santo Domingo to South Florida.

The second item, “El Capitan,” did not make it from Cuba but from a flea market in the Florida Keys, a little way from Islamorada. It is not about where it was purchased, but the fights I and my ancestors saw that rod and reel go through. From snapper of all kinds to grouper as long as 40-plus inches to even a 500 lb. bull shark 20 miles off Cuba. That bull shark is a man eater that no doubt can easily tip a Cuban raft and feast upon the voyagers. El Capitan has been used on so many bridges that the butt of the rod has worn down into an angle, perfectly aligned with most bridges’ guard rails. And that is only what I have seen.

The yoyo that was mentioned is actually a quite interesting piece. When my grandfather visited from Cuba he chose the yoyo instead of a modern-day fishing rod and reel. Turns out my father was serious when he told me his dad does better with a yoyo than a reel and rod because he caught more fish than my father, mother and I. The yoyo is unique because of the method used to cast out the line. You do a lasso motion, swinging the line, weight, hook and all over your head, while simultaneously tilting the yoyo horizontally, and then release your thumb and hope you get the distance you want. That was the case for me, at least on my first few attempts. The largest fish I witnessed the yoyo catch was a little over 20-inch mutton snapper.

Aside from the outstanding stories that can be shared from these two pieces, the fact that they relate to something that plays a big role in my life, like fishing, allows me to keep my sanity. These two pieces hold a lot of sentimental value to not only my father and my grandfathers, but to me, too.

My mother has made Miami home by cooking her country’s dishes. Something I look forward to every time her parents visit from Colombia is the food. They make sure to bring all kinds of sweets and foods that do not make it out to the United States. The best combination is to go fishing with my family in the Florida Keys while bringing our culture and ethics from Cuba and Colombia at the same time. Making Miami home.

I was born in Montreal, Canada, on June 16, 1969.

My father is English and my mother is Venezuelan, and they ended up in Canada. I lived in Montreal until I was 7 and then we lived in the U.K., Tampa and Colombia until I settled in Miami in 1990.

I came in January of 1990 to stay with my aunt here whom I’ve always been close with. I got a restaurant job a couple of weeks later. When I moved here I made the commitment to pursue music for 10 years.

My aunt lived in the Fontainebleau area, in this big, ugly, apartment complex thingy she had just moved into. There was a utility closet, and that was my room. I had a bedroll, my stereo, turntable, and a guitar, and I sat in there and did my thing for a year.

I found the local record spots. There was one on 97th Avenue, a place called White Rabbit where I got some Frank Zappa records. On Bird Road there’s Yardbird Records. They had blues, jazz, funk, African, Latin, all kinds of stuff. I just kept feeding my taste, and at that point I was all over the map.

I would buy stuff, put it on the turntable, and learn as much as I could. Then, I went to school/hung out at Miami-Dade College to learn and get the information, but I never took a test, never turned in a paper.

I would go, hang, and observe what I could, and certain teachers there I liked. I got some music theory, some classical guitar, and some jazz theory, just to be able to communicate. I could see and understand chords, but I wanted to know bonehead, basic music theory. After that I went off on my own and did what I could. That was my first year in Miami.

Then I met this guy at the T.G.I. Fridays where I worked in the Miami International Mall. This busboy was a Haitian guy named Max Selesteen, and he found out I played guitar, so he wanted to get together and play. I started going over to his place and we got together once a week for a while.

I got really into his playing style, and I found some Haitian records that I started checking out. I already had a conception and familiarity with Haiti from when my family lived there in the 1950s. My mom always told me good things about Haiti, and I was curious about the music.

After playing with him and listening to Haitian and voodoo records, I started thinking, “Is there a music with some combination of guitars and these voodoo drums? “

Then I walked into this venue on South Beach called Stephen Talkhouse. There was a band playing on stage, and they were doing just what I was fantasizing about. They had the voodoo drums, and other instruments, and it was really cool.

I was looking at it, and standing next to some Haitian guys there. And they asked me, “Do you play?” I said yes, and they asked me to play a gig with them two weeks later at the Marlon Hotel. It was totally wild.

Eventually I started my own band in ’93 or ’94 and called it Spam All-Stars. I’ve been working in the Miami music scene ever since. We recorded, toured and eventually got a Latin Grammy nomination. I saved money for the first time in my life, so I was able to put it down on my house here.

Now I make part of my living from playing in the band and I make a little money from being a DJ. We’ve basically kept it pretty steady for almost 10 years. I make about the same amount of money every year, and keep doing what I like to do. The venues come and go. At this point we’ve outlasted every single venue with the exception of Churchill’s.

I had to have a name to DJ. I already had Spam All-Stars, and at that time (late ‘90s and early 2000s) there were a lot of French house DJs in Miami. I was just being goofy and called myself “le spam.”

Miami’s made of many, many sounds, and it always has been. There’s always going to be a million different intersections of things going on at any given time.

To me, I see every band as having its own unique mythology and texture. I think people look at our band scene here in Miami, and it’s fractured. Miami has had for many years a big experimental, outside music scene, and it goes way back. I think it’s almost a reaction to how slick music comes out of Miami.

Disco came from here. Then in 1980s it was the Miami Sound Machine, and these kind of bands that were creating a slick sound. Now the music we’re mostly known for is Pitbull and Rick Ross, and it’s slick.

But if you don’t really dig deep into the Miami scene you would never know that it’s there. It’s always been, since the ‘70s, a dance music town.

We’re in a real tropical environment and we’re in a place that’s very transient, very new – a place that’s not dwelling on the past very much, for good or bad. This creates a certain amount of energy in the people who live here. If I lived in another place, the music that I make would be totally different because you’re feeding off of everything around you when you create.

I think we have a deep genetic pool for creativity here, and we are all bouncing off of each other with this stuff. This goes for all the artists that I’ve worked with – whether in visual arts, choreography or theater. Each person is what makes Miami. I’m happy to be a part of it in some way.

I am Keegan Simms and I was born and raised in Miami. I am proud of who I am, where I come from, and where I am going. When people ask me the famous question, “Where are you from?” I always anticipate the type of reaction that I will get. To answer that question, I respond with the fictitious word “Germaican.” “What?” they ask, “so you are German and Jamaican?” and I just give them a head nod and a smile. Yes, my mix is not very common and it makes me very unique. My mother is German and my father is Jamaican. It will forever throw people for a loop because even though I am biracial, people are under the impression that I am of Hispanic descent, because of my skin tone and other attributes.

For as long as I can remember my dad would always tell me to learn Spanish and put myself out there because it would give me the advantage, and open doors I could only dream of. Miami, being the melting pot it is, allows me to practice my bilingual skills every day.

Neither of my parents were born in Miami, nor do they have any relatives that previously made historical ties to the great city of Miami. So why and how do I consider Miami my home?

My grandparents on my mother’s side were each born in Germany and moved to Iowa, U.S.A., while they were young. My mother was the third oldest of seven children, who were all raised on a farm in a small town in northeast Iowa. My grandfather always took his kids on airplanes rides, which intrigued my mother enough to join the traveling industry and become a flight attendant. Her job and training stationed her in Miami, where she would meet my dad.

My father is a pure-bred Jamaican who spent almost a fourth of his life on the small island in the Caribbean. After finishing up his education, he picked up a job with Royal Caribbean Cruise Line as a photographer. This allowed him to travel the world while he got paid to do what he loved. My dad had the opportunity to walk on American soil, through his job, and he enjoyed it enough to go through the naturalization process and become an American citizen. What city did he choose to settle in? None other than Miami. It was on one of his trips at sea that he met my mother.

The photograph embodies why Miami is my home. Neither of my parents had previous ties to Miami before they met each other and this picture, in a way, signifies how my parents met. My mother is depicted in the third row from the top and second flight attendant from the left. This is her inducted class of United Airlines flight attendants. The picture was taken by the attractive photographer from Jamaica, otherwise known as my father. All aspects of this picture tell a story about how Miami is my home today. Each of their individual passions led them to meet in one of the most diverse cities in the world.

It was not too long before the wedding, and my parents got married. My mother’s job required her to relocate every so often; before any of my siblings were born, my parents lived everywhere from New Jersey to Hawaii. When my mother was pregnant with my oldest brother, she wanted to settle down in their old stomping grounds and where it all started – Miami, Florida. They bought an abandoned house destroyed by Hurricane Andrew and solely by their hands and the hands of relatives they built the house I live in today. This house we live in is a product of the many generations of hands putting up drywall and perfecting piping systems.

Our family tree is rich in culture as my parents are from different parts of the world. One might think that our household is bursting with different languages and principles, but it is completely the opposite. From stories told to me by my parents, I know that the way my siblings and I were raised was drastically different from the way my parents were raised. I think American society had a strong influence on the way that we were raised. Now, as I evaluate our culture, I realize that we are blazing a new way of life as we take snippets of everyone’s culture and make it our own. Seldom do we do things exclusive to the Jamaican culture or the German heritage. The best way to describe our culture is just a spoon of the “Miami Melting Pot,” with a tad bit more jerk seasoning.

These stories and memories make Miami home. There is no other place I would rather spend my life. Miami is special to me and to the rest of my family. Maybe all it takes for one to call someplace home is just time spent there, but it is the untold stories of the city and the memories that you make while in that city that truly determines your roots.

I was born in Jackson Memorial Hospital, which was founded by my great-grandfather, Dr. James M. Jackson. When my mother was delivering me, according to my grandfather, they did not have enough anesthesia machines. My grandfather, who was working at Jackson at the time, went and rounded one up so that she would have less pain during the delivery.

I was raised in Grove Park, which was bounded by 17th Avenue. I grew up on the river. I used to play in the river and go down there and look at the different animals. You could see manatees and the river crabs.

I had a friend who had a boat and we would go up and down the river and look at the different sites. There used to be land there that was private and, as teenage boys, we would sneak in and explore the secret caves that were next to a small canal. I think once we had to depart rather quickly when a caretaker appeared with a shot gun.

I went to school for elementary and junior high at Citrus Grove, and then high school at Miami High.

I grew up in the 1950s when Miami was still a resort town. It was open in the winter months and many of the hotels on Miami Beach would close down in the summer. My grandmother would rent a cabana at one of the hotels on the beach and we would go and use that in the summer.

The air conditioning was not used extensively in the mid-1950s. I remember visiting people’s houses and the purr of the fans. I would eat dinner at my grandmother’s house and she had a big fan in the dining room that would keep you cool while you were eating.

It wasn’t really until the late ‘50s and early ‘60s that air conditioning became more prevalent. The town was not as large as it is now. I remember camping as a Boy Scout at the youth center, which was in Kendall. It was all fields and sand. We’d pitch tents there and have Boy Scout jamborees.

My Boy Scout troop, troop 66, would meet at Riverside Methodist Church and we would go camping in the Everglades. We would camp in cow fields that were in what is now known as Doral. It wasn’t very long ago that it was all cow fields and lakes out there.

We would also camp on some islands in the bay, and one of them is known as Fisher Island today. It used to have the quarantine station on it, and that was all. It was an island covered with Australian pines. I also used to go sailing on the bay and enjoyed many days sailing around and exploring Biscayne Bay and the Coconut Grove area.

We would go to South Beach, especially in high school. There was a summer culture where all the students would go play on the beach, swim, play football in the ocean, get tans, climb on the jetty, and things I think that kids still do today.

It was a wonderful place to go. There were students there from all over the county.

I went to college my first year at Duke University and I was not a good student. I ended up coming back to Dade Junior College. It’s a very common story actually. There is an adage that everybody returns to Dade. I saw friends who came back after having gone to Harvard.

While I was at the junior college, I noticed this very beautiful freshmen student in my humanities class. I made friends with her and later on we got married in Georgia at a courthouse when I was in medical school. It was a $13 wedding — $3 for a blood test, $10 for a license, and then our friends took us to Arby’s. I’ve been a very spoiled Anglo husband all of these years since.

I went to school and worked in North Carolina for a while. What I did not miss from Miami was the intense heat in the summer. But, despite the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains, I did return to Miami 27 years ago to work at the University of Miami and have been here ever since.

I was anointed by my grandmother to become a physician when I was a small boy. She had many grandchildren, but I was the one that she gave the mortar and pestle to that belonged to Dr. Jackson and sat in his office. I still have it to this day.

I became a physician because I wanted to be a surgeon and help people recover from serious injuries. I knew I was going to go into orthopedics as my goal when I went to medical school. I was able to do that, and I’ve had a very successful career in helping people with significant injuries recover and be able to return to a functional and, hopefully, happy life.

I spend a lot of time at the hospital, so my time off and my weekends are spent working in the garden and going for walks. I have a woodshop that I built into my house and I made most of the furniture in my house. I’ll make it out of beautiful mahogany wood and some of the wood I get is actually from trees that have fallen here in Dade County.

It turns out that I’ve always been making things since I was a kid. Those skills of being able to use tools and look at objects in a three-dimensional sense are skills that I carried over to becoming an orthopedic surgeon.

I was aware of the family’s history and I knew as a boy that my great-grandfather was a very special individual and that Jackson Hospital was an extension of the way he lived his life.
He was a revered figure in the household. The painting of James Jackson that is in the Alamo, the original hospital building, was over my mother’s piano for many years before my father donated it for safekeeping.

Dr. Jackson was a man who was very community minded. He came here and became a part of many social groups and was thought of highly among those social groups. He was the president of the YMCA and he helped with the Boy Scouts. He was remarkable in his constant dedication to his community. It was always wonderful having a relative who had done so much good.

I think the 100-year anniversary of Jackson Memorial Hospital is a celebration of something truly special. We get to have this amazing hospital system that is a safety net for our community. It’s something that’s very precious that a lot of big cities don’t have.

I moved to Miami in 2011 in search of “The American Dream,” and to build a better future for myself. In my suitcase, I brought some clothes, family photos, personal documents and a few art books. Being an immigrant is anything but simple; at first, friends gave me lodging while I found a place to live and I spent part of my savings on hiring an immigration paralegal and buying a small car to get around. I looked for a job, but I couldn’t speak a single word of English. I discovered very quickly it was a problem, so I enrolled in free English classes at Coral Gables Senior High School.

After a few months, I looked for the most economical accommodations I could find, a small room in between Little River and Little Haiti. This “efficiency” was depressing because it was dirty, small, and the area was a bit dangerous. It was rough living in such a small place with dirt floors for the entrance, and in between stray chickens, cats and dogs. After paying the required three months’ rent and buying a few necessities at the Little River’s Family Dollar store, I had $25 left in my wallet.

I’ll never forget when I went to my first formal job interview, at the 111 building in Brickell. To all the questions they asked me, I replied using the only word I knew by then which was “Yes,” and I filled out the applications using my cell phone to translate. As I left the building to get my car in the parking lot, the attendant in the parking lot said to me: “Mijo, it is $25.” Then with tears in my eyes, I replied (in Spanish): “It cannot be possible, please check my ticket, it was only an hour or less.” But the attendant made it clear to me that it was a flat fee of $25. So I gave her the last $25 I had in my possession.

I returned to my efficiency with my head down, watching the animal tracks through the sand corridor, and I found pieces of old wood, paint, used brushes, and the remains of curtains; that is when I told myself that the art would save me! I borrowed some tools from the landlord, and I started putting together my canvases. Once the art pieces were ready, I put them in my car, and I went to homes and workplaces of every person I knew to offer my artwork for sale. I sold them all.

I remember when there was no Wynwood design district or Micro-Theater, but I made my way into the visual arts by having my first exhibition in the Coral Gables High School library, then in restaurants and art-walks in Brickell. Those were my beginnings. I am proud to be part of the cultural growth of this city, where I have already exhibited in galleries in Wynwood, such as the Curator Art Project and Spectrum Art Fair.

Alongside my artwork, I needed a full-time job where I could practice my English, because as we all know in Miami, a lot of people speak Spanish. At that time, one of the persons who bought an art piece offered me an opportunity to work as a server at the Vizcaya Museum. When I went and saw the majesty of that building, I fell in love with Miami.

Being a server wasn’t my ultimate goal, but that I knew that it was the way many immigrants start their journey when they move here, and I wanted to be the best of the team. Then, fate played its part; when I was accompanying a coworker to deliver an art piece, I met Gio Alma, the photographer of the stars, and my creative professional journey in Miami began.

With him, I did the art direction and photography production for personalities like Cristina Saralegui, Irma Martinez, and companies such as Miami City Ballet and Digicel. Also, on the side, I had the opportunity to be an actor for the Sociedad Hispanoamericana de Teatro with the play “Cleopatra,” and I became president of the professional association for design, AIGA, Miami Chapter.

Nevertheless, I still felt that I could not express myself professionally as easy as I did in Spanish, so I decided to apply to Miami International University of Art & Design to earn a master’s degree. It wasn’t easy since I was working full time, and several times I contemplated quitting, but I persevered and completed it with honors. After my master’s, I became a creative director, and recently I had the opportunity the work alongside Lenny Kravitz.

I still have a lot to do because I think that the sky is the limit. In the process of continuing to foster my art, I have a 360 solo exhibition from April 19 -30. “Sense, Feeling it or Not” at Art & Design Gallery, on Biscayne Boulevard and 86th Street, where I will display more than 50 paintings, art installations, sculptures, and a dramatized reading of the play “Sala Marco Caridad,” and its English version, “Marco Caridad’s Room.”

Different venues already did something like this in New York with the artist Rothko. For me, it is an honor to do the play in Miami inspired by my art pieces. The most important part is that, unlike Rothko, I am one of the actors in the play, and I will be starring along with Mel Gorham, the Hollywood actress who starred in Wayne Wang’s film, “Smoke and Blue in the Face.”

The Venezuelan playwright Yonyi Gutiérrez wrote the play. The performance will be inside the main room of the exhibition, and the actors will act on top of a 12-foot-long by 6-foot-wide table. The audience will be around them. We performed it in Kendall at Artefactus Project during two weekends in 2016. The audience was moved; several attendees came out with tears in their eyes.

Today, I am happily married and living in Miami Shores.

I am Nelly Josefina Avila de Barriga and I was born on November 20, 1958, in Maracaibo. We are very regionalist, and refer to our city, Maracaibo, as the first city of Venezuela.

My first visit to Miami was as a tourist, and it seemed very pretty to me here. It reminded me a lot of Maracaibo – the city is on a flat plane like Miami, it has a lot of beaches and the climate is similar to Miami. I told my family that when I was in Miami I felt like I was in Maracaibo. Of course Miami is a bit more organized than Maracaibo, but also very pretty like Maracaibo.

After raising a family and growing a career in Maracaibo, my daughter had the idea to move here to Miami to live. It was because of the things that were happening in Venezuela at that time. My oldest daughter came here with her husband, but my second daughter is a journalist and she had to stay and cover the Venezuelan government.

I worked with children there and I didn’t want to leave it to come to Miami. My roots were there. My schools, my kids, my profession, everything was there. It cost me the world to leave and come here. But for the love of my daughters and grandchildren, I came to Miami.

I don’t regret the decision, and I have been well received here. I’ve found my group here, and now I am working with children, giving them music lessons. I am doing a part of what I did in Venezuela, thanks be to God.

In Venezuela I started with music when I was 11 years old. At that time there was a priest who really liked music and sports, so he created a project with children. He saw that there were many music groups in the region where I lived, Zulia, but they were groups of adults. He decided to make a music group of children and see what came out of it. Then we gained attention. All of the children in Maracaibo wanted to participate in this group because of the importance it had.

He dedicated himself to teaching us music, but he educated us in other ways, as well. He taught us a lot of discipline. From then on, everyone who integrated into the conjunto all went on to become teachers. We taught music and we taught primary education.

At age 16, I went to a female group. When I finally joined the men’s professional music group, I was the only woman among 18-20 men. I was a principal member of this group. I have also been in big groups like Los Tucusones, Enrico Morales, Amor y Gaita, and others.

Later on, I met my husband and we formed our own group. My father was being difficult at that time, saying that since I have a boyfriend now I can’t follow the gaita music and band lifestyle.

Well, passion always wins, and so I married my husband, and we were in the same music group. People were concerned that we wouldn’t last, but now we have 30 years of being together and playing music.

From that experience, I learned that I wanted to teach children about gaita music. I wanted to have a school in Venezuela of gaita music like they have in Mexico for mariachi music. Everywhere in Venezuela the people love gaita, and it comes from my home in Zulia. I wanted the school, and so I sought the approval of the governor who approved the project.

Gaita music is with Venezuelans since birth. It is played all year long and heard all of the time on the radio. It’s as essential to Venezuelan life as salsa music is in Miami. We also listen to other genres, but in every Venezuelan house there is a gaita musician or singer.

In reality, the gaita was born as a protest. My mom told me that in her time, gaita music was the only form that the people could use to protest the government. I’ve heard some of these old recordings, and it’s amazing because the musicians recorded everything at these protests with one microphone. In today’s world, you need a lot of equipment to record gaita music well, and it’s a delicate process.

Famous musicians in Latin America come to Venezuela to play and record gaita music. These musicians comment about how hard it is to play gaita music, but for us it’s like drinking water. We are born with this music and tradition.

In many regions of Venezuela, they play gaita music during Christmas. Here in Miami they begin asking for it on the first of November.

I play gaita music socially and when the drinks are over and I have finished playing, I will take the music back to my house. That’s what most Venezuelans do here because it reminds them of home.

My husband is a musician, too, and it’s in the family. My granddaughter is learning by growing up in this tradition, and I have a grandson, her little brother, who has been passionate about singing gaita since he was a little boy.

We formed our group, La Gran Maquinaria, in 1989. We started as members of many different music groups. We knew each other from playing at functions, restaurants and discotheques. One day at a restaurant there were so many musicians gathered together at one common table that we felt the need to all play together. The next week we were playing at that same restaurant.

I have a lot of respect for my work; there are libraries in Venezuela that have my work, and I have won many prizes. My husband made a room for my trophies, but they don’t all fit.

I’ve been singing gaita for 46 years. It is incredible to see a Venezuelan crying over my gaita performance. They remember the market and the religion, their family, and moments that they’ve had. It is very emotional.

The government right now does not allow gaita for protest. It’s forbidden. Gaita music has been adaptable to other styles and played for romance, love, commercial use and other things. But it’s most important that it remain a protest and confrontational music because that’s where it came from.

Here in Miami, I am surrounded by Cubans, Colombians, and other Latins. We have very similar cultures, and Venezuelans are very sentimental, nostalgic, and we’re rooted in what is ours, our culture. We communicate with each other through our music, with the soul, and with our customs.

When I sing, they are already all my friends. This is what I value. Music is the language of the soul.

My father came down to Miami from Chicago in 1952 and my mom in 1953. He worked as a lifeguard and she worked at old Jackson hospital. They met at the 14th Street beach. They courted, then married in 1954 and I was born that same year. My nickname as a kid was “Sandy” because they met on the beach. I also grew up on Miami Beach.

As I ventured into tourism and travel in 1979, my travels took me a lot of places. I started with Gray Line tours here in Miami, and we did lots of tours to the mountains in the Smokies, and in New Orleans. But mostly my career was here in Miami doing tours in the city, in the Everglades and in Key West.

Gray Line was sold in the mid-1990s to an Orlando transportation company, and then absorbed by Coach USA, so Gray Line isn’t the sightseeing tour company it used to be.

Then, about 10 years ago, Big Bus Tours came to Miami. Big Bus is a London-based company and now they’re in 17 different cities throughout the world. Miami was their first U.S. city.

The industry has changed a lot. Years ago people wanted to be in a nice air-conditioned motor coach, and now it’s become very popular to sit on top of a sightseeing vehicle. It’s a wonderful way to see the city. It’s like being in an open convertible.

I’ve always been interested in transportation, which has led me to a lot of history as well. I could’ve been anything, and I think my mother was horrified that I would consider being in transportation rather than a doctor or lawyer. But I think it’s always important to do something enjoyable with your life, since you’ll spend a lot of time doing it. I’ve had no regrets with my decision to be in transportation, and I have met wonderful people.

When I started with Gray Line, they wouldn’t hire you unless you were going to be a driver-guide, so I ventured into that. I already knew history and it came naturally to me. Back in the ‘80s, I was fortunate enough to learn from many highly educated driver-guides, and it was quite rewarding.

You’d begin by traveling on a bus with a driver-guide, and you would also have to be in the classroom and take tests on subjects they wanted you to know about. The schooling for being a guide lasted a month, and then if you passed the schooling they would teach you how to drive. It took six weeks to finish the course.

I’m still learning to this day. People are fascinating, and you have to get to know them and talk with them to see what their interests are. It’s amazing, the stories that I can tell you. I’ve had people die on tours, and once I was in the Everglades and a man stood up and threw up all over me. I didn’t miss a beat. I just stepped aside. To this day I know some tour guides who have heard about that event and couldn’t believe I kept my composure. Have to roll with the punch.

To stay informed we read the paper, of course. There are lots of celebrities here in South Florida, and they’re always in the news. The commentary changes quite often. If there’s a significant event that happens in the city, like the Versace murder on Miami Beach, we mention it when we go past there. Sometimes we remove old and less significant information as new things happen. So we go with the change of the times.

The tourists I guide are really wowed by the beauty of the city. The architecture here is very beautiful. In the wintertime, when you go across the bridges the color of the water is wonderful. I always tell the students that they should appreciate the nature here – the trees and birds and the dolphins in the bay. There is so much natural beauty if you’re really looking and paying attention.

Tourism in South Florida used to start right after Thanksgiving and would continue through until after Easter. For many years this was the way it was, and people would close their homes up and go north. When air conditioning came into play, and when the Latin American influx came, we became a year-round destination for tourism.

Unfortunately, sitting in the busses during the summer is like sitting inside of a broiler pan. But most of the people on the tour are going to the beach anyway so they’re going to have suntan lotion on. It isn’t often that we’re sitting in really bad traffic, and on the weekends it might be slow, but for the most part it’s fine, and they can always go down below to the climate-controlled coach.

As time goes on, you learn to do a routine and how to build your tour. Sometimes it might take you longer to cross the causeway, and basic buildings aren’t going to change, so you have to be ready with what we call fillers, which are facts about surroundings. You’re going to say the same thing over and over again most of the time, so you have to keep it fresh.

I think tourism will always be good here because we are a major hub for Latin America, and we have many more Europeans coming here for tours. Everyone wants to come to Miami.

It is important that the guides and the people giving information present the city in a positive way, and that the drivers drive politely and safely. But it’s a constant battle to get the two working together smoothly. The hospitality industry is not paying as much as it should to attract better caliber people.

But I just love it. When I give the tours on the coach, the city sells itself, so my job is easy. I’m simply enabling my audience to enjoy it more.

I was born in the Oriente Province of Cuba in 1953. I came to the United States when I was 12 years old and my family settled in Hialeah.

My parents bought the house that they still live in today, and we started our business in Hialeah in 1968 as a clothing store.

My parents would work in the factories during the day and would sell pants and shirts door-to-door on the side. The business grew, and we decided to open the location where we are to this day. In 1979 we bought another building and expanded, but we also kept the original store.

I grew up in the business beginning when I was 14 working for my parents. Then I went to Miami-Dade to study fashion design. I started working in 1997 with the quinceañera dresses, which I love.

Family relatives who were turning 15 around that time wanted quinceañera cruises, which were a new fad. They were looking for their dresses, and we were going to the meetings and decided to get into the business. We have been doing that ever since.

My husband and I are now the owners. He worked for us when we got married, and now he’s in the administration.

We have three sales people who have been with us for a while, and a couple of seamstresses who work with me. It’s a small operation, but it’s working out well.

When we came from Cuba in the 1960s, the situation here was not good. But my mom put money away, and when I turned 15 I had my party at the house for the sake of the tradition. Quinces here in Miami were very simple in my time. I went to a lot of them, and I danced a couple.

At mine I wore a white miniskirt with a tiara, and I had a photographer come to the house, and my friends came, and we took pictures and had a dance party. As a mother now I understand wanting to have that special day for my daughter, and I’m thankful that my own mother did that for me, too.

The quince tradition came from the Mexicans: the Aztecs and tribes in Mexico. They used to have a special ceremony for the girls approaching puberty to give them different roles for their different tribes. Then the Spanish came, and the emperor Maximilian changed the whole thing, and wanted to adapt the custom to more of a fancy ball with beautiful dresses to present the girl into society.

It’s changed into sort of a rite of passage. I know a lot of moms who don’t let their girls pluck their eyebrows or put makeup on until their quinces. That’s when they wear their first heels, put makeup on, and they’re excited.

It’s also not just one big dress anymore. Every year there is a change in this business. In the beginning we started with the cruises and they wore all white. Then they started doing colors — champagne and ivory — and with the parties it’s the same. Now they go with themes, such as Disney themes, so we have dresses that we try to not make look like a costume but fit the theme of the party. Themes require a lot of planning ahead of time.

I learn something new every day. Some girls are very excited about doing this, others just want to please their mom. But most of them dream about this day for a long time. When they come in, we like for them to feel like a princess.

I have friends in the business who do big parties. Once, there was a girl who came in on an elephant. They had to get a permit to bring it over, but they had money and she wanted to do that so they did. That’s a little extreme, but it happens.

Some parties are as big as 500 guests. The most popular ones are around 100 or 150, and 200 is considered a big party. The way I see it, weddings can happen at any time, but a quinces is an event that happens once in your life, and it stays there forever.

I have two girls. For them we had a small party at the house; I didn’t have the business back then. I’m planning the quinces for my granddaughters already. They are still young, but I’m excited to do that.

I think quinceañeras will stay. Many who come here have been planning since they were little girls. It’s rewarding for me; I don’t do it so much for the money; my reward is seeing the faces of the girls when they come back and say they had a great time, and they bring me a picture, and they recommend somebody.

At this time in my life, I’ve enjoyed it so much that I am also able to help the community. We’ve worked with Make-a-Wish Foundation girls, in cruises and parties, and we’ve done work with schools and to make parties for groups of girls who don’t have much. I like to do that.

Miami influences what I do. My husband once told me that this was the capital of quinces in Florida, and I think it is. I have people coming from Tampa, West Palm, Orlando to get dresses here.

There’s a mix of cultures, too. Before it was more of the Cubans giving all of these big parties, but since we have people from all over, and because these people are growing up together in school, this mix of cultures influences our parties, like our colors. We have people from Brazil who have these parties, and I have some girls that are from the African-American community who do Sweet 16s, and they have Cuban and Spanish girls dancing at their parties, too. It’s a nice thing to do. It brings the community together.