Remembering a Cuban Immigrant Whom Castro Sadly Outlived

We're here to remember Art, and to celebrate his remarkable life, and I'm honored to have been asked by Maria to share some of my own memories with all of you.

Art was my close friend for more than 30 years. There was no one whose company I more enjoyed, whose incredible spirit and open heart I more admired, and whose life story filled me with more respect and inspiration.

The simple truth is that I loved Art Rodriguez with all my heart. And, I can tell you this without any exaggeration, it was always a very easy thing to do.

Art's life ended far too soon, but there's no denying that he had a very full life. A boy on a bicycle on the streets of Havana; a young man working in an optometry office and flirting with the dancers in his father's ballet company; a stranger in a new country, speaking a new language, with a single coin hidden in the lining of his jacket, and everything else left behind and gone forever in Cuba.

And then came the work - - the work not only of a young man starting out in life, but the work of an immigrant starting over in life.

Art loved to tell stories about all the jobs he held when he first came to the U.S., and those stories were always filled with passion and pride and humor, and never a trace of resentment.

Over the years, I came to accept as true that Art had in fact washed, cleaned, painted, cleared, cooked and sold every single thing possible on his way from Florida to California. But hearing him tell those stories, I also came to appreciate that whatever the work, Art and his spirit defined the job.

It was that same spirit and drive and passion that ultimately brought Art great professional success. It also didn't hurt that he married Maria. The two of them, working side by side, were able to create and build and grow their own business. But again, I can tell you without any exaggeration, Art earned every bit of his professional success - - nothing was ever handed to Art Rodriguez.

Over the period of many, many years, I witnessed and admired Art as a son, and as a brother, and as a parent, and as a grandfather, and as a businessman and employer, and, most especially, as a husband, and I know how deeply he cared about all of those relationships.

But I wasn't Art's parent, or sibling, or child or grandchild, or client or employee, or spouse, and I won't presume to speak for those of you who knew Art intimately and firsthand in those ways.

I was blessed, however, to be Art's friend, and to enjoy that friendship for more than three decades.

I met Art when I was 30 years old. Somehow I kept getting older, but Art never did, at least not in spirit. Art always had that same cherubic smile and friendly tilt of his head; that same love of words in two or even three languages; that same treasure trove of obscure knowledge and diverse talents with which he could surprise you at any moment.

Art could tell you how to start a business and navigate the laws and politics of cities throughout California, and he could show you how to make a bra out of a table napkin.

He could complete a New York Times crossword puzzle before you made it through half a cup of coffee, and he could tell you - - with scientific precision and great seriousness - - exactly when and how to flip an egg without a spatula.

He could play "name that tune" with the speed of a bullet, and it didn't matter whether the music was a symphony, 50s rock and roll, a Latin ballad, or Jimmy Buffett.

Art was a man for all seasons - - although he certainly preferred the summer - - but he was also a man for all seasonings. (And that one is for Art, because I know he loved a pun.)

The plain truth is that Art Rodriguez was more damn fun than anybody really has a right to be.

One of the great joys I had as Art's friend was to see him interact with other people. Art had a kind and gentle spirit, and a very soft heart, and I saw him use those gifts to charm, disarm and connect with people, both high and low, strangers and old acquaintances, again and again and again.

Art was a gentleman with old school manners, but his people skills went far beyond good etiquette. It didn't matter who you were, or where you came from, or what station in life you might occupy, Art's presumption was that you were a good, honest, interesting person worth knowing, and that you deserved, and so were going to get, his full attention.

Art may have just met you, but he did not look through or past you, he did not leave you feeling ignored or diminished - - he empowered you by being fully present with you, and by making you feel that there was nowhere else he'd rather be, and no one else he'd rather be with.

And I've never known anyone who could savor life's simple pleasures quite like Art. A warm breeze, a glass of wine, a good cigar, Jimmy singing "Havana Day Dreaming" on the stereo, the company of friends or family - - watching Art enjoy moments like that would bring your own heart rate down, make you forget your worries, and cause time to slow to a crawl.

Art not only brought the fun, he brought the peace and quiet of his own contentment. And there was much to be seen in Art's contentment.

He showed me that choosing to embrace the joy of small things, choosing to be open and present for others, no matter who they are, choosing to take pride in everything you do, choosing to face down your challenges and make the most of your opportunities, choosing to live your life to the fullest - - that those are the surest pathways to a full and happy life.

Art Rodriguez chose to be the man he was, and I have always been inspired by the courage and convictions of Art's choices.

Art could appear carefree, but he had plenty of cares and many people to care for throughout his life.

He could appear untroubled, but I know that he had more than his fair share of troubles over the years.

He could enjoy life's simple pleasures like nobody else, but he was not a simple man.

I had many conversations with Art over the years about his life and his family's history in Cuba, and the status and advantages that he enjoyed there. But I never heard Art indulge himself in sad stories of "what might have been," or "what should have been."

Given the many challenges and losses and setbacks in his life, Art could easily have chosen self-pity, or regret, or bitterness, or anger, or even defeat.

Instead, he chose life, and he made the absolute most of that choice and his life. Now, that's something to remember and celebrate here today.

There is a saying that I sometimes take comfort in that goes like this: "It's never too late to be the man you could have been."

In so many ways, Art was that man to me - - the man you could have been, the man you want to be - - a strong, honest, hardworking, responsible, humble, loving, kind and gentle man.

You know, Art had a memory vault packed with old and bad jokes, and a limitless enthusiasm for telling and retelling them. We started to call his jokes "Oh Arts," because that's what we'd exclaim whenever he told one of his stinkers.

Here's a joke I heard Art tell dozens of times over the years.

The victim was usually female, young or old, it didn't matter. Art would set it up with that angelic grin and little tilt of his head, and then he'd deliver a big compliment about something the woman was wearing.

"My," Art would say, "that's a beautiful scarf you have on."

Then he'd reach out and take a piece of the material between his thumb and finger, and ask innocently,

"Is that felt?"

When the woman invariably replied "no," Art would spring the punch line.

"It is now."

I dreamed about Art telling that joke just a few days after he passed away, and I've kept thinking about it ever since then, just as I've thought about and mourned the loss of this amazing man who was such a presence in my life for so many years.

And, you know, I've decided that Art got the last laugh. "Oh, Art."

You see, whatever I was made out of before I met Art Rodriguez more than 30 years ago, I'm "felt" now - - changed forever by the touch of this beautiful, loving, joy-filled and joy-giving man.

Art is gone, but he will never be lost to me.

Thank you God for bringing Art into my life, and for the incredible blessing of his friendship.

Amen.