My dad 'Juanito'

My father Juan De Dios Diaz unexpectedly passed away May 29.He died peacefully in his sleep. He had a long good ride and lived to 84. 

If you dined at Puerto Sagua restaurant in the 1970s, 80s, 90s and early 2000s in Miami Beach, you may have known him simply as Juanito, the fast moving, handsome counter waiter with the crisp white shirts and black pants who worked the late afternoon and night shift. 

People may also remember him as a hardworking exterminator who took pride in his work at Miami Beach and Little Havana homes, apartment buildings and hotels that he visited up until five years ago when his Parkinson’s progressed to another level. 

To my sister Cary and me, he was simply Papi or dad, always trying to solve our problems and willing to listen to anything we had to say.

To my late mother Milagros, he was the love of her life. He never left her side during her cancer ordeal five years ago at the hospital and during their 48 years of marriage. 

He was the reliable little brother to his five siblings. (His late brother Augustin worked the morning, midday and early afternoon shift at Puerto Sagua where people often confused them.) 

And my dad was a beloved Tio to my cousins on both sides of the family and the Florida straits. 

He lived for beisbol and enjoyed watching the Miami Marlins while listening to the play-by-play in Spanish on his small radio at his nursing home where he was like a celebrity or simply “Juan de Dios” or “Juancho.” 

He loved mangoes and avocados freshly plucked from people’s yards in Little Havana. 

And he never missed an opportunity to play his lucky numbers in Lotto on the weekends. 

He was also my biggest fan. During his Puerto Sagua days, he always had one of my recent Miami Herald articles behind his counter to show to his loyal customers. Whenever I had a book reading in Miami, he was the first to offer to attend with my mom. They'd sit in the back, watching and smiling. 

He also enjoyed boasting that my sister was a multilingual, high school teacher in Miami Beach and real estate broker. 

Most of all, my dad was a sensitive caballero, an unselfish man with a big heart, a Cuban class act. We miss you Papi. May you finally rest in peace.

In addition to this tribute, I also wrote an official obituary on the funeral home's website. It can be found here.

A collage of photos of my dad over the years. 

My parents at one of my Miami book readings at Books & Books.

Remembering El Oriental de Cuba

A new reader sent me an email yesterday and it triggered some fond memories for me.

 "Just wanted to share that I came across your eBook (Beantown Cubans) as I was eating a media noche and batido de guayaba. lol hahahhaa. Thought it was weird. What a coincidence that you mentioned the same thing, a media noche and batido de mamey, I'm Cuban and Mexican from Boston but now I live in TAMPA. with all the other cubans. just wanted to share, peace. - Angel"

He was referring to El Oriental de Cuba restaurant, the real-life setting in my third book Beantown Cubans where the two main characters Tommy and Carlos meet up each Friday to talk about work, their families and of course, guys! And immediately, a wave of my own memories of eating at this Boston eatery rushed over me.  

In Boston, El Oriental is a Cuban institution where Cubans and non-Cubans can find a scrumptious media noche, a creamy pink mamey shake and potent cups of cafecito. But it's also a gathering place in Boston's Latin Quarter also known as Jamaica Plain (JP for locals.)  

Besides food, visitors can grab copies of local Spanish-language newspapers such as El Mundo and El Planeta. Flyers for upcoming Latin concerts and festivals fill the window sills by the take out counter. Spanish peppers the air and mixes with the sounds of sizzling steaks from the stove. Framed photos of classic American Chevys and Fords and everyday scenes of Cuban life bedeck the walls. The place is an unofficial community center where New England media can gauge the pulse of the Latino community.

416 Centre St., Boston

When I moved to Boston, the restaurant reminded me of Miami. It was a piece of Cuban culture injected into this little corner of Centre Street in the Hub. It felt like Miami, like home.  And whenever I could, I would bring a new Cuban friend, non-Cuban friend and some dates (but not at the same time) to introduce them to this little local favorite. A lunch or dinner there served as a form of initiation into Boston Cuban culture. It was a great spot to interview local Latino leaders for story ideas.

I also brought my family here. I remember when my parents visited me for the first (and only) time in Boston, they realized I didn't have any Cuban coffee in my Dorchester kitchen. So off we went to El Oriental for cafecito and brunch. (It was only three miles away.) I think my parents also felt at home there too.  And so when it came to write Beantown Cubans, I knew exactly where I would have the two main characters meet up each week to gab. El Oriental.

When it came time for Open Road Integrated Media to record a video for the book a few summers ago, El Oriental's owner Nobel Garcia was gracious enough to serve the small crew the best of what his restaurant had to offer (Cuban sandwiches, bistec de pollo, chicken sandwich, sweet plantains, black beans and rice -- basically a sampler of the menu). He also plopped a blue Oriental de Cuba baseball cap on me during the shoot as I sipped on the mamey shakes. (I was so full you could have rolled me outside to the Hi-Lo market, now Whole Foods.) 

The photo above is a screen grab from the shoot. (That's me with owner Nobel Garcia.) The video is here.    You'll see the tall glass of mamey shake in front of me. Thank you Nobel and the staff of El Oriental for all the good meals and times in Boston.

(This was the crew from Open Road Media with me in middle after we pigged out at El Oriental. We then went to the Blue Hills to work it off.  From left, Danny Monico, Jeffrey Sharp, moi and Luke Parker.)





 

Matters of the Sea by Richard Blanco

As Richard Blanco read his lovely new poem Matters of the Sea  Friday morning for the reopening of the US Embassy in Havana (go to the 5 minute mark in the video above), I raptly listened on NPR while driving my little Fiat on I-95 on my way to work. As he spoke, I instantly visualized and recognized his descriptions.

Among them: "our grandmothers counting years while dusting photos of their wedding days", "our fathers worn by the weight of clouds clocking in at factories,'' "our lips anointed by the same spray of salt-laden wind,'' "we’ve all cupped seashells to our ears listen again to the echo," "to gaze into the lucid blues of our shared horizon to breathe together to heal together."

His delivery was Zen-like, comforting and soothing like the sea that stood still behind him along El Malecon.

This is a long way of saying that I'm very proud of my literary Cuban Miami brother. In honor of the ceremony, I am reposting this entry below from when I interviewed Richard for his memoirish book The Prince of Los Cocuyos which was published last fall.

"A Cuban 'Wonder Years' or like a 'Running with Mangoes,'' a la Augusten Burroughs. That's how Richard Blanco describes his new memoir The Prince of Los Cocuyos that he just published.

It's the latest from the gay, Cuban-American, Miami-raised writer who presented his "One Today'' poem for President Obama's inauguration in Jan. 2013.

The new book chronicles his coming of age (and coming out) while living in Miami's Westchester neighborhood in the 1970s and 80s. (Cocuyos means fireflies in Spanish, in case you were wondering.)


I interviewed Richard for my paper the Sun Sentinel. Here's my story on his book, why he chose to write in more long form than his traditional poetry such as Looking for the Gulf Motel collection and how he hopes his stories may help gay youth know that they're not alone in their struggles. The book is warm and sweet like a Cuban cafecito.

Richard Blanco (and that's me smiling over his shoulder) at his book reading in Coral Gables for The Prince of Los Cocuyos

Juggling different themes in Beantown Cubans

I recently found these videos where I talk about writing about themes of loss and good friendships in Beantown Cubans, my third novel which was set in Boston.



Open Road Media: Johnny Diaz on Beantown Cubans from Open Road Media on Vimeo.
Open Road Media: Johnny Diaz on Special Themes from Open Road Media on Vimeo.

Coming to a bookstore near you August 2009

Here is the book cover for my third novel, Beantown Cubans, which will be published next summer.
The book follows the adventures of two good Cuban friends in Boston (yes, it could happen.)
I am always impressed how my publisher's designer Kristine Mills-Noble captures the spirit of my books with her artistic cover illustrations. So far, I've been happy with each of her visual intepretations for my novels.

This book is a sequel of sorts to Boston Boys Club but with a new narrrator named Carlos, a Cuban teacher from Miami who moves to Boston to start over after the loss of a parent. He has some help from new amigo Tommy Perez (from Boston Boys Club), another Miami native who's now a reporter at a Boston newspaper. Like Carlos, Tommy yearned for something more than Miami's endless summers, liquor-fueled nights at South Beach bars and South Florida's daily supply of gruesome news stories.
Tommy takes Carlos under his wing and shows him where to find good Cuban food and how to break into the city's clannish and lily-white gay scene as he discovers lust, love and a newfound independence over the course of one unforgettable year.

What do you think of the cover? Also, I don't know who the guys on the cover are. They are models.

Felicidades: It's a paperback

Sometimes, when you least expect it, something good happens.
Boston Boys Club (May 2007), and Miami Manhunt (July 2008)will have a literary sibling.
My third novel, Beantown Cubans (working title) has been sold and will be published in mid-2009.
This book is a sequel of sorts to Boston Boys Club but with a new narrrator named Carlos, a Cuban teacher from Miami who moves to Boston to start over. The other narrator: Tommy Perez, the newspaper reporter from the first book, returns as well but serves as a secondary character helping Carlos adjust to Cambridge and his new job in Dorchester. The book celebrates their friendship, their Beantown brotherhood, but also follows the different paths they take as they mourn old relationships and forge new ones. I'm very proud of the news and wanted to share it with visitors to this teeny tiny little blog, which will have to eventually be renamed to something other than Beantown Cuban.