Searching for answers, while running for the US Senate

My 7 month pregnant mom fled Cuba’s violent communist revolution in September, 1960. I was born 5 weeks later, Nov 2, 1961, in NYC. My dad, who was a vocale dissident against the new regime, was able to make it to America, the following year. As a young boy, I learned Spanish first, then English and many other things at PS 166 in Manhattan. I loved playing stickball on the streets, and often helped my dad at his grocery story (“bodega”) on 87th and Columbus, on the West Side, just a block from Central Park. The city was tough during the 60’s, but my parents, extended family, and neighborhood friends made sure we were safe.

My parents, especially my dad, were devoted Catholics, never missing a Sunday mass at St. Gregory the Great on 90 street, between Amsterdam and Columbus Ave. Not only did we regularly attend mass there, but the kids also all studied there too. My brother Louie was a year older than me, Annette, 3 years younger, and George, 6 years younger.

I was a bit of a rambunctious kid, jumping off monkey bars and running rampant thru our little apartment on the 11th floor. By the age of 8 I had broken both arms, at different times, thank God. I fondly remember taking the subway with older friends to places like Shea Stadium, Riverdale skating rink, and Astoria’s public pool in Queens. We were just kids wanting to explore the city and the only way to do it was to team up. As is true in most large urban settings, we had to be especially vigilant when we left our neighborhood. I was mugged a couple of times before the age of 10, so I had to develop a tough street attitude at a very young age. As I look back in life, I thank God for the opportunity to have grown up in that multi-cultural metropolis, as it prepared me for many future adventures.

By 1972, dad got tired of the city and decided to move us to Miami. I specifically remember one incident that I think cemented dad’s and mom’s decision to move. A few thugs wanted to use the grocery store as a meeting place for some less than noteworthy people. At one point, dad got so upset with their annoying behavior, that he told them not to come back or else. Dad was a very loving man, but he was fiercely independent, and didn’t want to be pushed around by anyone in the city, especially after having left everything in Cuba and starting all over again at the age of 32 in NYC. A few miraculous events kept him from being jailed or shot in Cuba, and he wasn’t about to let some ruffian’s push him around. After one particularly heated incident with them, they left the store upset.

The next morning, all the windows to our cherished green Ford station wagon, were bashed in. My brother Louie and I were confused at first and mom and dad trued to hide the reality from us. At some point we came to realize what had happened. I was honestly scared but trusted my Dad would take care of things. Dad and mom took that as a message from the criminals, that they knew where we lived and would maybe hurt the family. That’s when mom and dad decided to send the 3 older kids to Miami to live with my grandparents and aunts and uncles for one year. Dad then sold the store and moved down to Miami with mom, and George, one year later.

We loved Miami’s beaches but felt bored to death in the suburbs. Soon enough I started joining organized sports teams in the neighborhood parks, and made friends.

Dad searched diligently for a business to purchase, and also tried establishing a few new ones. He finally decided on a bakery in Miami Beach, a Jewish kosher-style bakery.

In retrospect, now, 40 years later, I believe dad didn’t just choose the kosher style bakery randomly. During our young teenage years, dad would bring Louie and I to the bakery at 4 AM, and we helped in kneading dough, boiling bagels, and my favorite, lacing the twist challah. Our formative years were spent working as young bakers with dad, and we loved to spend time with him, but neither of us wanted to inherit the business.

Mom and dad continued to hold themselves out as Catholics running a kosher style bakery. I remember the rabbi coming on weekends to approve the ingredients being used.

I also remember dad telling me that the older Jewish men in the neighborhood would often mention to him that his habits and ways of being were very Jewish. They told him this, knowing well that he was a practicing Catholic. Dad seemed honored by the comparisons, as he respected the Jewish faith. He even told me a number of times that he had read articles on the fact that many Jews in Spain had adopted the name Sanchez. He told me this when I had already graduated from law school, kind of hinting that as the lawyer in the family maybe I could do some research into this.

I guess, in retrospect, this is when I began to question my faith more. I felt a certain kinship to Judaism, not only because we observed Jewish holidays at the bakery, and baked Jewish breads and pastries, but there was something inside of me that felt a connection to the faith.

A trip to Spain with my wife in 1996 opened my mind to certain Sephardic history I was never familiar with. While visiting a Madrid bookstore, I found a book with a title that sounded like “1492 — the last year Jews could live in Spain.” I was especially intrigued by the year — 1492. That was the year Columbus supposedly discovered America. I started thinking there must be a connection with the expulsion of the Jews from Spain and the discovery of the Americas.

I continue to be fascinated by the new research I find on this topic every year. It started to make sense to me that many Jews must have fled Spain and migrated to the Caribbean and the Americas after 1492. There are now countless papers and books on the topic. There are millions of people living in Latin America that have Jewish ancestors and they don’t know it!

I started finding and visiting Inquisition sites in Colombia and Portugal and Spain. I felt a personal affront while there. It was then that I realized that some of my ancestors had died indescribable deaths, and others had forcibly converted to Catholicism. I’m sure others had embraced Catholicism freely, but I became most interested in those ancestors who had forcibly converted. There was something in me, something that needed to express itself differently. I know some people will call it crazy, but I felt my subconscious speaking to me. I needed to express this new interest in Judaism and recognized that it had always been in me.

The journey hasn’t been easy. I’m the first one in the family to begin to go to synagogue. I especially like Reform Judaism, as a feel comfortable there. I first visited a Temple in the downtown area, and although welcoming, it was too far from home. I shared my story with a good friend and he recommended Temple Beth Am in Kendall. I started going there on Saturdays and Fridays and felt very welcomed. When I told the rabbi my story he looked me in the eye and said, very candidly, “we need you here, please come back.” For someone who was battling with a complicated past those words meant so much to me. Besides, Torah classes remind me of law school.

DNA tests have only confirmed what I felt, I do have Sephardic roots running thru my veins. When I did DNA testing over 10 years ago, the lab did mitochondrial research, thru my mother’s side, and I found we had close family in parts of Poland and Russia we never knew about.

During one year in particular while I was undergoing this exploration, I was asked 3 times by 3 different people in 3 different cities, if I was Jewish. They just randomly stopped me on the street . Those brief meetings with random people confirmed my belief that I was on the right path.

Too many things have happened in my life which point in the direction of Jewish ancestors. I enjoy studying Judaism and have been thru some spiritual experiences which cannot be described with words.

I am currently a very happily married husband of 35 years, with 3 grown children, and a granddaughter. I’ve been practicing immigration law for over 30 years. I was honored with the opportunity to serve the country as Special Counsel in the Department of Justice and the White House in 2004–2006. Our family has helped found micro-finance institutions for the poor in Asia and Florida. I am blessed beyond words.

Most recently, I was very bothered by the course the country was taking, especially in the last 4 years. The January 6, 2021 insurrection at the US Capitol, for me, was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. I couldn’t just stay on the sidelines complaining.

So, in January, I formed an Exploratory Committee to run for US Senate in Florida in 2022. Having spoken to thousands of Floridians in the last 3 months, the overwhelming majority of who have been very supportive, I was the first Democrat to declare nationally on April 23, 2021 on CCN Espanol that I am a Florida candidate for US Senate in 2022. I appreciate the opportunity to share these thoughts and experiences, am enjoying this journey tremendously and thank God for the opportunity.