Finding Colby: My Review of "The Mysterious Disappearance of Colby Blue"

The Mysterious Disappearance of Colby Blue by Eric Vasallo
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

“The Mysterious Disappearance of Colby Blue,” by Eric Vasallo follows a sweet, geeky middle school student who always felt like an other and different, someone who didn’t belong among his classmates and playing sports. (It didn’t help that his father named him after a type of cheese, a constant source of ribbing from fellow students.)
A lover of books about space, explorations and pioneers, Colby enjoys gazing at the night sky studded with stars and other galaxies. Mature for his age, he feels that there is more out there and that he is meant for bigger things, whatever that is, on or off Earth.
After tragedy strikes and leaves him an orphan, Colby finds a new home on the sweeping Rose Lawn farm estate with the Bookmans, an overbearing couple who love all things books. As Colby adapts to his new life with them, he hatches a plan to create a tower of books to reach the stratosphere. With help from a friendly owl and blue jay, Colby’s dream comes true. The tower and Colby’s intentions catch the attention of wise, benevolent beings, space and dimensional voyagers who help him tap into his infinite potential. They teach him how we are all connected in the universe and the importance of finding your inner strength and value.
The author’s passion for books shines brightly throughout the novel, a love letter to the literary word. Colby’s adoptive parents, appropriately-titled the Bookmans, regularly rescue abandoned books and collect them in their home for preservation. For the couple, “nothing in life was satisfying as the feel of a crisp, dry book page and its warm fabric binding” and “the sensation comforted them like a favorite teddy bear,” as the author writes. And then there’s Colby’s daily routine to “read an adventure for dinner to have something delightful to dream about.” Books are literally supporting characters in this novel and how they shape and enliven us.
“The Mysterious Disappearance of Colby Blue” is a lovely, charming, sweet story about a young man discovering himself as he seeks answers to life’s big questions by simply looking up and wondering at the universe we live in. He reminds readers of that time in your life when you were innocent, imaginative and anything was within reach if you willed it.
Although the book is intended for the middle-school set and young adults, I think it would be an enjoyable and relatable read to people of all ages. There’s a little Colby in all of us.

My dear old friend Eric Vasallo wrote this book and I saw the evolution over the years. I'm glad the book (and Colby Blue) are out in the world for others to discover.

My Journey with Bladder Cancer, 10 Years Later

From the good news desk: After 10 years, more than a dozen cystoscopies (I lost count after the 8th one), two major surgeries, a potent blast of chemo and endless anxiety whenever I peed, I am bladder cancer free. My urologist Dr. David Robbins, who has cared for me since this whole journey began in 2016, told me the good news after my recent visit, “We can stop following you,” he said. “We don’t need to torture you anymore.” This was after my last cystoscopy (not a fun procedure which I won’t miss anytime soon.) A few years ago, I posted a detailed account of what led me to see him, the mysterious red specks, his diagnosis, the surgeries and recoveries because bladder cancer is a topic most people, especially men, don’t like to talk about. But former NFL player and current coach Deion Sanders helped changed that last year when he revealed he had an aggressive form of bladder cancer which led to the removal of his bladder, which was replaced with one made from his intestines. I am linking to my previous blog post about my journey but the takeaway then and now is, Please look down at your urine as you pee. Attached is a photo with Dr. Robbins from my recent office visit because I don’t know when I will see him again although I adore him. Hopefully, not for a long time.

An Ode to Gata Linda

This is a tribute to Gata Linda Diaz, (yes, she was so part of our family that she took our last name.) Out of the blue a few decades ago (I won't say the year to not age my older sister and myself,) this beautiful little gray fluffy cat with emerald green eyes suddenly appeared one afternoon at the door of our house in mid-Miami Beach (between Pine Tree Drive and Alton Road.) The cat chose well (although my sister and I theorized that the Latina lady who took care of our elderly French neighbor Marie somehow encountered the kitten and placed her on our property but we were never able to prove that but the cat seemed to know her. LOL.) The little cat, which looked like a mix of a Persian and a stray, always lingered by our house until one day, my sister (Cary) and I scooped her up in our arms and we went, house to house, for over four blocks, asking fellow homeowners and residents, "Is this your cat?" No one recognized her. My conservative but loving Cuban Papi wouldn't let her inside the house but he was okay with her outside our house, where we fed and interacted with her.

The cat became a regular presence outside our house. I was a student at F.I.U. at the time. We gradually fell in love with her as she slowly slipped into our hearts. But then, one day after I came home following a day of journalism classes and interning at The Miami Herald in the Hialeah/Miami Lakes office, I discovered a tiny underdeveloped kitten outside our front door on the welcome mat. Gata Linda unfortunately miscarried. It broke my heart as well as that of my dad, my sister and my mom. From then on, we let Gata Linda stay inside the garage which was huge and spacious. Then we decided to fix her (spade her) and let her inside the house in a cage/crate (temporarily) while she recovered where she was super high from the drugs and kept meowing loudly. Eventually, she calmed down and we let her roam freely around the house (three bedrooms, three bathrooms) and she was super happy at home with the super cool A/C. She made our house her home.

Her favorite spot: Sitting in the dining room window and looking out at the traffic on West 51st Street. (On a side note, she would sit near my dad at our dinner table for weekly Sunday lunches because he would throw scraps of chicken her way which she loved.) Then she figured out other ways to get attention. If anyone of us (or my bestfriend Cindy at the time and me) were watching a movie in the family room, Gata Linda would stand in front of the TV set, her silhouette disrupting whatever movie or program we were watching. And then she (the cat) would splay herself across the tiles of the main hallway so we would have to pay attention to her when we walked by. My little second cousins from Kendall absolutely loved hugging her and took photos with her. Gata Linda was also very intuitive or just psychic. She seemed to know the day and time when the mobile groomer would arrive because she would suddenly...disappear and hide under my parent's bed. Gata Linda must have picked up on the words "appointment" or "cita" and "groomer" in phone conversations in the house because...she knew and vanished! And when the friendly groomer showed up, we had to extract her from under the bed and she would start peeing everywhere like a garden sprinkler all over the kitchen which made my mom laugh really hard. And for some reason, Gata Linda seemed to have a fixation with my bedroom. Whenever I went clubbing in South Beach on Thursday or Friday nights and I happened to leave my bedroom door open (BIG MISTAKE), the cat used my bed as her personal kitty litter. Not fun especially when I had to drive to Hollywood, Fort Lauderdale or Pembroke Pines as a fulltime cub reporter for the Broward City Desk at The Miami Herald to report breaking news the following morning. (She was obsessed with my room for some reason and shopping bags.)

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely loved that cat. I would pick her up from the vet and grooming appointments where I discovered, to my surprise, that she was listed as "Gata Linda Diaz." Que? But after I moved to Boston, my bedroom was off limits. Whenever I visited, she would meow outside my door and I would cautiously let her in, as long as I could observe her. In the last two years of her life, I remember calling my parents each night (super Cuban thing) and my mom had a tendency of using the speaker phone in the kitchen and her conversations reverberated throughout the house, so when Gata Linda heard my voice, she would rush to my bedroom door and meow and meow outside my door. Such a sweet thing. She remembered me (and my bed.) I look back at my birthday photos and she was there, for 11 in all, in my arms.

The Real Housewives of Bravo

I watch a lot of TV, probably too much, especially when they are reality shows on the Bravo network. I'm a regular viewer of "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" and sister franchises including Miami, Potomac, Atlanta and Salt Lake City. It helps having a Peacock subscription. Over the years, some of the cast members have found themselves in legal trouble including among the most recent, Wendy Osefo of the Potomac season. I recently rounded up some of the legal challenges with updates and how some of the Housewives have overcome them. Here is a link to my New York Times article.

Hanging at the Cardozo South Beach

 

Photo by Johnny Diaz

Ever since I wrote a news feature about the $15 million renovation of the Cardozo South Beach hotel by Emilio and Gloria Estefan in 2019 for the South Florida Sun Sentinel, my old paper, I've always wanted to stay at the hotel.

The Cardozo South Beach is a charming, three-story hotel at 1300 Ocean Drive right in the heart of South Beach. As part of a recent staycation (Thanksgiving week off,) I finally had the opportunity to stay at the hotel which is steeped in Miami Beach's Art Deco history.

Part of their interior makeover was including some personal accessories from their Star Island estate such as furniture, chairs and art work which line the halls.

"It is a lot of art that was hanging in my house," Mr. Estefan told me by the elevator in the hotel's lobby back in 2019 during a ribbon cutting and a packed media event.

"I wanted to remodel and instead of throwing it out, we brought it here and it looks good," he continued.

On a recent Monday, I checked in just before 4 p.m. and the process was smooth and breezy. The hallways were bright, cool, clean and painted in a faded mint hue with carpets that carried geometric patterns.

The end of each hallway featured enlarged photos of Emilio and Gloria Estefan from magazine covers in case you didn't know who owned the hotel. 

Emilio Estefan over my shoulders in the hallway. Photo by Johnny Diaz

Gloria Estefan watches over guests from the hallway. Photo by Johnny Diaz

But there are also enlarged photos of movies that shot in and around the Cardozo over the years. They include black and white images from "Marley and Me" and "There's Something About Mary" which line the second floor.  The third floor is dedicated to the 1996 comedy "The Bird Cage" starring Nathan Lane and the late Robert Williams.

Ode to 'The Bird Cage." Emilio Estefan at the end. Photos by Johnny Diaz

Built in 1939, the hotel was originally called the Cardozo Hotel and designed by Henry Houser. The hotel was named after Benjamin Cardozo, one of the first Jewish jurors on the U.S. Supreme Court. During World War II, the Cardozo became a housing facility for recruits and trainees. The building still carries its classic Art Deco style and curved lines which are accentuated by the modern bright orange awnings and umbrellas that shade guests from the sweltering sun on the first floor.  The top of the hotel (look at the top photo) features a sailing American flag and the rainbow-hued Pride flag, a welcome mat to all.

My room, #219, was literally all white, from the walls and cabinetry to the beds while the floors had beige tiles. I opted for a room with two queen-size beds because I like to switch from one to the other each night. The beds were soft and comfortable enough to sit back and watch my favorite TV shows and local news programs such as WSVN's "Deco Drive."  But the sereneness of the room also provided a great little writing cocoon. My room was on the west side of the hotel overlooking the courtyard so I was away from the cars and bars blasting music nearby.

My lovely super white room. Photo by Johnny Diaz

The peacefulness allowed me to have some creative writing time for my next novel "The Golden Boys" which will follow in my "Boston Boys Club" series about gay Cuban-American professionals and their friends who are looking for Mr. Right while dealing with everyday life challenges with the help of their closest friends in Boston, Miami, Providence and Ogunquit.

My messy handwriting/notes on the bed. That's how I write.

The bathroom was elegant, beautiful and narrow. No bathtub but there was a glass-encased shower where you had to open two sliding glass doors on each side to step in and out of.  It had a classic Miami feel and reminded me of a bathroom you might see in the stateroom of a vintage luxury cruise liner. But I wouldn't recommend attempting the "Wonder Woman" spin in the shower stall. Tight quarters.

Ignore my messy bath mat towel. Photo by Johnny Diaz.

When I wasn't in my room, I enjoyed strolling along the seawall on Ocean Drive all the way to South Pointe Park where I sat on a cement bench and watched the colossal cruise ships glide by at sunset. I grew up in Miami Beach and this was something I often did on my bicycle as a teenager, college student and adult before I moved to Boston and eventually back to Miami a few years ago.

Is there something big behind me?

The hotel has a bar and a restaurant downstairs called "Call Me Cuban" which was bustling with guests and diners who were entertained by live musicians whose voices and music flowed out onto the street. Next door is an attached coffee and dessert place called "Estefan's Express Kitchen" where I had a super sweet and thick flan in a glass and a soft chocolate gooey cookie. (I have a big sweet tooth.)

Said flan topped with vanilla ice cream. Photo Johnny Diaz. 

When I wanted to read a book or follow the latest news on my phone, I headed downstairs to the courtyard where I sat under one of the big tables (also covered with orange umbrellas) and enjoyed the soothing ocean breeze. Orange and white is a theme here.

My rate was $176 a night because I had the courtyard view but rates can be at least $126 a night especially weekdays, depending on the time of year. Also, there is a large city parking garage right behind the alley of the hotel with an overnight fee of $20.

Overall, a lovely quick stay. I'll be back for another staycation or writing retreat.

The lovely courtyard. Photo by...you should know by now. 

The Golden Boys

Coming in the near future my seventh novel “The Golden Boys.” Tommy Perez, a sweet OCD Cuban American national journalist who is suddenly single after a divorce in Wilton Manors and is starting over and trying to find his footing. But he finds love and support from his sexy Italian wingman Rico in Boston and his fellow gay Cuban buddy Carlos in Providence who are dealing with their own romantic and health challenges as they approach 50. These members of the Boston Boys Club have each other’s backs as they navigate their unique personal issues over the course of a year. In the spirit of my previous novels, TGB will celebrate the power of good unconditional friendships and the neverending search for Mr. Right. I keep hearing from friends and readers who are 50 and older and how they feel invisible in today’s dating (and hookup) scene and hopefully my book will shine a light on this gay dating desert.

Here is a link to my previous six novels.

Gay History, one artifact, book at a time

Tucked away inside a small building in downtown Fort Lauderdale is the Stonewall National Museum, Archives and Library. For the past five decades, this little library/institution that could has chronicled the history and culture of the LGBTQ history.

In addition to gay novels and biographies, you will find more than 30,000 DVDs and artifacts that reflect the LGTBQ community. They include a gold record from The Village People, a pair of leather pants worn by singer Ricky Martin and the gavel that former House speaker Nancy Pelosi used to formally end the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, which made it illegal for gays and lesbians to openly serve in the military.

I recently visited Stonewall and wrote about the budget cuts and funding shortfalls it has been facing under the current political climate for a story for my paper, The New York Times. The facility is a treasure trove of LGBT history. Below is the print version of my article from this month.

By chance, my former newspaper, the South Florida Sun Sentinel, generously (yay!) picked up the story and published it on its front page last week. (story is on the lower right.)

Super Trooper

Last October, as Hurricane Milton threatened Florida, a white bull terrier with dark ears was abandoned off the side of the road along Interstate 75 near Tampa. It was raining and the water was rising. Florida Highway Patrol trooper Orlando Morales was on patrol when he got the call about the dog and checked it out.  To his surprise, he found the dog, gently calmed him and eventually coaxed him back to the safety of his police car.

Nearly a year later, the dog, named Trooper of course, has found a new home with a couple in Parkland, Florida. When I heard about the rescue and the dog finding a new home, I pitched a story and it was finally published a few days ago at The New York Times where I work.  With everything going on in the world today with breaking and often depressing and tragic news (which I write a lot about,)  I thought this was an uplifting story and it has to do with something I am very fond of -- dogs!  When I told my friends that I was working on a longer story, one said "I thought this was going to be something else but this is so YOU!"   Yes, a hurricane + Florida + dog + rescue = a Johnny Diaz story. :)

You can read the story by visiting this link.

Photo courtesy of Frank Spina, Trooper's new daddy

The story also was published in the Sunday New York Times.  This is one of my all-time favorite stories to report and write.

Black Bears in Florida

In my past five plus years at The New York Times, I've covered a lot of breaking news stories. Some have included animals and a lot of bears which seem to be a regular topic for me. 

I've writtten about fat bears in Alaska where there is an annual competition for people to vote for their favorite hefty bear. I've written about efforts to restore the grizzly bear population in the Northwest Pacific. I've also covered polar bears that killed a remote worker in Canada.

So I was surprised when I had to cover a story about man and his dog who were killed by a black bear in southwest Florida in May because bear attacks in the state are rare.  People also associate Florida with alligators, iguanas, dolphins and sharks but we do have black bears, about 4,000 of them and as my story noted, they can run up to 35 miles per hour and climb a tree in 30 seconds. 

Here is my story on the bear that killed an 89-year-old man, the first reported fatal bear attack in Florida history.

The authorities at the scene of a black bear attack in Collier County, Fla., in May.Credit...Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission via New York Times

Meet Chuchy

A lot of people associate me with my late dog Luna who passed away in 2022. She was 17 and had a really, really good life. (Miss Thing loved eating sushi on Friday nights and fresh chicken from Chicken Kitchen. For real!) RIP Luna.

But soon after her passing, another dog entered my life. His name is Chuchy, a six-pound cream-colored cotton ball of love. (At first, I thought he was a cat or a baby Ewok from "Star Wars.")  My sister adopted the Pomeranian from our cousins in Hialeah (they have his papi and stepmother) and Chuchy and I instantly bonded when we met which continues today. He doesn't live with me. He hangs out with me mostly on weekends and I go with him to vet appointments but I am basically his papi because I am the only male in his life.

Here are some fun things I love about the one and only Chuchy.

This was a toy I bought him when he was a puppy.

My sister Cary named him Churchill (after the late British prime minister...I don't know why)  but I thought that was too formal. So I started calling him Chuchy.                                                                                                                          

He loves to r-u-n and if he has enough space like a backyard or a dog park, he goes wild with the zoomies. No human or cheetah can catch up to him if he tries to run away. He also loves going up and down stairs hence below in my building. He knows the way to Casa Johnny.

Chuchy wants all your attention even when you watch TV. He tends to block your view with his big furry butt so I have to maneuver my head around his booty.

He loves to smother you with besitos (kisses.) 

Chuchy enjoys lounging in many of his beds (he has at least seven in multiple locations) and he even blends in with them. (Where does Chuchy begin and end in the bed? You decide.)

He is a good sport for photos (especially selfies) and makes great Christmas/holiday cards. He posed for me here for my 2024 cards, although he thought we were playing.

Chuchy loves anything outdoors. Say his magic word pasear in Spanish which means stroll and he goes crazy. He immediately grabs his leash and brings it to you because he wants you to take him on a stroll (even if you had just taken him for a walk 10 minutes ago.). Below, my sister walked him around Coconut Grove recently because he can't resist a walk.

He loves to ride shot gun (or on the driver...me!)

Remembering Pedro

December 1st marked World AIDS Day (or month.) I've seen a lot of blog and social media posts in the last few days and I was inspired by a former FIU classmate to repost an old post I wrote about the late Pedro Zamora, who was my contemporary, a fellow gay Cuban-American from Miami whom I never got to meet in person but I admired his HIV awareness advocacy. He empowered the gay, Cuban, Latino, and HIV positive community. Even though I am HIV negative,  I have people in my life who are positive and I sympathize with them and support them with all my heart.

Here is what I wrote as an editorial about Pedro in The Miami Herald in April 1996 when I was a super, super young lad named... Johnny!)

A psychic once proclaimed that Pedro Zamora was born to save lives. I know many who can attest to that.

Pedro died in 1994 the day after the final episode of The Real World: San Francisco aired. He died from complications from AIDS after a three-year crusade to educate folks, especially young people, about the illness.

You don't hear much about Pedro anymore.

The years have passed. There was a street named after him in West Miami-Dade. A former clinic in Boston also carried his name. MTV no longer shows the reruns from his season.

Sometimes, I can't help but wonder what a positive role model Pedro would be today to a whole new generation of young people. He showed people that AIDS was everywhere. Young or old, gay or straight, it's there. And a few moments of pleasure could never be worth risking one's life. He also taught people how to avoid catching the virus - and how to deal with people who had it.

He made an impression on me right away when I was 20 because I saw a little of myself in him. We were both Miami Cubans, about the same age and gay and I was just beginning to embark on the real world of dating. (We also had the trademark thick dark eyebrows.)

When "The Real World" cameras highlighted his tight-knit and affectionate Cuban family, I saw some of my own family reflected in his. Pedro's thick Cuban accent was music to my ears, part of Miami's soundtrack. He was on"The Real World" when cast members had real stories to tell besides the I-got-drunk-and-hooked-up-with-so-and-so tales.

I always wished I could have met Pedro. If I had, I would have said "Gracias chico!" for educating me and so many of my fellow friends in Miami and beyond. 

5 Things I Love About My VW Golf GTI

This past summer, I belatedly treated myself for a big birthday (don't ask) with a new sleek black Volkswagen Golf GTI.  The car was also a reward for a mid-life breakthrough (the opposite of a mid-life crisis which I may write about at some point.)

Footnote here. For my loyal readers (all five of you) who have followed this blog since 2006, you may have noticed I tend to switch cars...on occasion. I diagnosed myself with cardiction and even had a blog about my love of cars. The salesmen know me at Deel VW in Coral Gables.

My passion addiction for cars has become a running joke in my family especially in Boston where I lived for 10 years, to the point that my dear cousin Michelle would joke that she would look out the window of her parent's house or her aunt's house every Thanksgiving to see what model of a car I would pull up in the driveway. (So I started parking farther away from the living room window to avoid the you-got-another-car!! conversation.)

As a longtime fan of reliable cute hatchbacks, I knew I wanted one that had power and that I could easily squeeze into any parking space (more on that below.) I also wanted something of a classic with a legacy and the GTI has been around since 1976. It's timeless. But there are many more things that I adore about my car. Here is my top 5 list.

THE DRIVE

The car has pep with its 2.0 turbo charged four-cylinder engine that produces 241 horsepower.  Just one tap of the pedal and the GTI takes off like the Turbo Boost in KITT from the popular 1980s NBC show "Knight Rider." (Yes, I'm dating myself.) I unleash the GTI's power when I hit I-95 to visit my buddy Eric B. in Wilton Manors. (He calls me Johnny D.) I punch the pedal, brace the steering wheel and zoom, I take off (within the speed limit.)

THE SEATS

The GTI seats feature intricate stitching, mine has red hues. The driver and passenger's seats also have GTI etched in red.  Que cool!

THE MIRRORS

One of the coolest features (at least to moi) is how the side mirrors open up when I unlock the car and then fold back in when I park and lock the doors with my remote key.  The mirrors are kind of like auto ears that pop out. (It doesn't take much to wow me.)  

ROOMY

The GTI is a cute and spacious hatchback that seats five people comfortably. I once fit 6 people (four adults including me, one teen boy and a tween girl) in my previous 2017 Pacific blue Golf for a road trip to the Everglades to ride the airboats. My new GTI basically has about the same dimensions but with a new body/lights. I recently was able to fit a bicycle, a red assembled chair from IKEA and a lamp (thank you again Alex.) 

The car is more than ample enough to seat a five-pound Pomeranian named Chuchy who loves to pasear (go for rides or sightseeing.) When he hears that magic word, his ears perk up, he grabs his leash and runs to the door waiting for you to take him outside. That’s him below riding shotgun as the AC blows his fluffy fur. 

IT'S VOCAL

Whether from the dashboard or via text messages on my VW app, the car alerts me when it’s low on gas and reminds me of how many miles I have left before reaching empty and when and where to fill up. The app also lets me know when I have left the car unlocked and I then remotely lock it with my phone.

Five Years at The New York Times

I can't believe that this week marks my fifth year at The New York Times. It feels like yesterday when I nervously walked into the colossal building at 620 Eighth Avenue in midtown New York City and attended my orientation where I got a free T-shirt, a tote bag along with a small notebook/journal for taking notes, which I did a lot of for the first few days.

This was taken by my buddy Eric shortly after I started working at the paper on Oct. 28, 2019.

In honor of my five years there, I decided to highlight one of my favorite articles from each year that I have been writing/reporting for the paper. It's no surprise that many of the stories involved animals.

During my first few weeks at the paper in New York City, I cowrote this wild and fun tale with my work desk buddy Aimee Ortiz about three cows that were thought to have been swept away during Hurricane Dorian in North Carolina but they actually had been enjoying life and grazing at a state park in the Outer Banks. The article was very popular among readers. Here is the story.

In 2020, after returning to work after my open heart surgery (which I shared with readers), I learned about Fat Bear Week in Alaska. It's an annual contest where people vote for their favorite fat bear as they pack on the pounds for winter by chowing down on fresh salmon. I had so much fun learning about the contest and about the bears at Katmai National Park. Here is my story. A runner up for my favorite story that year was an obituary I wrote about twin brothers in Texas who died hours apart in the same hospital (different floors) after contracting Covid in the early days of the pandemic. They lived together, worked together and slept in the same bed. They were literally inseparable. Here is that obituary.

In 2021 for LGBT pride month, I wrote a round up of Pride firsts, the first time an organization, a city and even the White House honored Pride such as the San Francisco Giants wearing rainbow-hued baseball caps and uniforms that season and young authors who published their first books about what it's like being gay, trans and nobinary. Here is my story.

In 2022, I wrote an obituary on Spanish trans actress Isabel Torres who found fame late in life for her portrayal of Cristina Ortiz Rodriguez, who was a beloved trans Spanish TV personality in the mid-1990s. I had watched Ms. Torres on the HBO Max Spanish series "Veneno" which chronicled the life of Ms. Rodriguez. I was so moved by Ms. Torres's acting, so strong and sympathetic in her portrayal of Ms. Rodriguez, that I offered to write the obituary which is here.

In 2023, I teamed up with my colleague Lauren McCarthy to track down some of the 400 beagles that had been rescued from a facility in Virginia where they were locked in cages and used for breeding and research. The beagles have found happy homes where they are thriving and discovering what it's like to live outside a cage and the freedom of taking walks and running around a backyard. Here is the story. 

My favorite story of 2024 so far focused on the late Desi Arnaz, beloved star of the sitcom "I Love Lucy." My story was about how the city of Miami Beach was honoring the entertainer for his early years in the city where he learned English at St. Patrick Catholic School and became a musician. At the Park Avenue nightclub/restaurant, he popularized the Conga which was his first brush with fame before Broadway and Hollywood and his wife Lucille Ball. I had no idea Mr. Arnaz had so many local connections in Miami Beach where I grew up. Here is my story.

The photo below was taken in June after I returned to the newsroom in NYC for a week to reconnect with my colleagues, reporters and editors. A tourist was kind enough to take the photo for me.

Miami Beach Honors Desi Arnaz of "I Love Lucy"

Growing up in Miami Beach, I was very familiar with St. Patrick Catholic School. Although I attended a public school (North Beach Elementary a few blocks away,) my upstairs neighbors Katheline and Jennifer Cortes, attended the St. Patrick's and I attended their events at the school.  I also took CCD classes there for my communion and confirmation. 

So I was surprised to learn that Desi Arnaz, best known as the hunky Cuban-American bandleader and for playing the devoted husband Ricky Ricardo on the beloved "I Love Lucy" sitcom, graduated from St. Patrick's. Not just that, he learned English there, became a musician and had his early brush with fame when he started to perform the conga at the Park Avenue restaurant and nightclub before making it big on Broadway and Hollywood.

via The New York Times / Library of Congress

This week, the city of Miami Beach honored the entertainer's early years in Miami and Miami Beach after he left Cuba as a teenager.  I wrote a story for paper, The New York Times, about Mr. Arnaz's journey from Cuba to Miami and Hollywood. The marker sits outside the Miami City Ball, near where the Park Avenue nightclub stood by Collins Avenue.

photo by Johnny Diaz 

Remembering Drake Hogestyn/John Black from "Days of Our Lives"

Growing up in Miami Beach as a geeky, curly-haired TV nerd who was sometimes confused as a girl (no joke)  who wore corduroy pants from Sears to school even in the endless year-round summer heat and humidity, I was always drawn to soap operas for some reason (part of it may be because I would only see my friends in school, rarely outside the classroom, and these fictional characters kept me company.) 

From "The Young and The Restless" and "As The World Turns" to "General Hospital" and "Days of Our Lives," I would tune in each day after school in elementary and junior high to learn the latest plot twists involving perpetual lovebirds Holden and Lily on ATWT or the enduring drama between the wealthy Quartermaines and nurses and doctors at the fictional GH hospital in Port Charles.

But when I got older (in my late teens in college and early to mid 20s) I also discovered the Los Angeles fashionistas on "The Bold and The Beautiful" on CBS and then the Midwestern characters on "Days of Our Lives" on NBC which aired the show right after the former.  I immediately got hooked and desperately wanted to know what was happening in the fictional town of Salem.

Photo via New York Times via Getty Images.

I loved following the adventures and loves and tribulations of the town's residents including the never-ending love story between John Black and Dr. Marlena Evans, played respectfully by Drake Hogestyn and Diedre Hall. 

For years, I committed to the show in the mid to late 1990s and 2000s and the 2010s and gasped on Friday afternoons for the weekly cliffhanger (a storyline once involved Marlena's alien offspring.)  So when I learned that Mr. Hogestyn, who played the brawny, hairy-chested (can you tell I am gay?), cool and debonair John Black who would raise an eyebrow whenever he suspected something amiss in Salem, had passed away at the young age of 70, I volunteered to write his obituary. 

I knew enough about his character and the show that I could write the story using my ingrained institutional knowledge. But during my research, I was surprised to learn that Mr. Hogestyn had early dreams of being a professional baseball player and had played for the minor leagues for the St. Louis Cardinals and then New York Yankees, his favorite team. 

After an injury, he pivoted to acting which eventually led to his portrayal of John Black/Roman Brady and thus forever changed the landscape of daytime TV.

Anyways, this is a long way of saying, here is my New York Times obituary on Mr. Hogestyn.

Remembering Luna

This weekend marks the second anniversary of the death of Luna, the sweet and funny Fox terrier mix who was in my life for 10 years and was my companion (or assistant) for many years as I worked from home. She made me a better human being. (The photo below was taken in Islamorada. She loved the Keyes.)

She had a good life of 17 years and one month. A lover of sushi on Friday nights and chicken anytime, she was the best loving dog I have ever known and she taught me so much about taking care of a dog, which has helped me with Chuchy, the Pomerarian that belongs to my sister but I care for as needed. Luna witnessed and experienced so much of my personal history over 10.5 years before she died.

She got to meet and know my late parents and even took rides with us to Publix. When her other papi was away in Costa Rica, she slept in my childhood bedroom in Miami Beach, my rental apartment in Coral Gables and then my studio condo in Coral Gables where for some reason, she enjoyed sleeping on my head. (I never understood that but she would race up the stairs as soon as we got out of my car.)  The place was super quiet which she appreciated.

When I had my two bladder cancer surgeries, she snuggled up to me and never left my side. She sensed what I was going through and I remember just being able to hold her for comfort. I was her second papi.

The same goes for my heart surgery recovery. She was there keeping me company and supported me in her own sweet way, just by being there and sitting next to me.  Even after I took her for short walks because my body was still recovering and I was out of breath, she was still in my face literally. :) (See video below.)

When I temporarily moved to New York, she visited me twice and enjoyed sitting on my old blue sofa (from Coral Gables) and running around Central Park (she sprinted for at least a mile and I couldn't keep up with her.)

Here she is taking a stroll in the Upper West Side with her other daddy for Thanksgiving week.

Luna even inspired the character of Amiga in my last novel "Six Neckties" with her unique black-spotted butt and funny personality. She was also so patient when I sketched her and she gave into me (or indulged me) when I snapped a photo of her next to the portrait. We were glued to the hip. We were a team.  I knew her and she knew me.

I never knew my heart could expand with so much love, thanks to Luna. I will always miss her. I was her Johnny or "Gnocchi" as I was referred to.

This video was the last I took of her two days before she departed the earth. (In the background, I was rewatching "Brothers and Sisters" from ABC and she was snuggling up next to me, as always.)

My Miami Vice Family Ties

I spotted my Uncle “Tio” Agustin playing an extra in the Miami Vice episode “Nobody Lives Forever” from season one episode 21 on Peacock from 1985. He is wearing the light blue suit. In the scene, he passes a package under the table to another guy, a bookie, and walks away.

My uncle was my dad Juanito's older brother. Both of them worked for decades at Puerto Sagua restaurant in South Beach. My uncle had the morning and early afternoon shift and my dad had the afternoon and evening shift. They looked enough alike that people confused them.

I accidentally found my uncle because I have been binge-watching all the episodes of "Miami Vice" on the Peacock streaming service. I was nostalgic to see the Miami of my childhood and so I embarked on watching a few episodes a day. I'm currently on season four which took place from 1987 to 1988.

Growing up in Miami Beach in the 1980s, "Miami Vice" became a regular fixture on city streets, especially Ocean Drive, Biscayne Boulevard and in Key Biscayne. A lot of the shoots were at night and residents and tourists would see big white trailers parked along a street which signaled that the show was shooting nearby.

I remember one time, maybe 1989, they were shooting the show in an estate on Pine Tree Drive around the block from my parent's house. I remember seeing the production trucks parked along the street as I tried to get a view of the action from a bridge that overlooked the waterfront house where they were filming. Some trees obsecured my view but I was so excited to see something that I would watch on Friday nights on NBC to be so close to home.

Some of my observations from rewatching "Miami Vice" these past few weeks.

Sonny (Don Johnson) and Tubbs (Philip Michael Thomas) always seemed to get involved with a woman who was somehow connected to their current investigation (or a past case) which complicated things. You would think they would have learned this after the first season.

In their undercover work, Gina (Saundra Santiago) and Trudy (Olivia Brown) mostly played hookers.

To my surprise, I have heard of some unsavory language which would probably not make it on air in today's standards. In one scene, a boxer calls his crime thug boss "maricon." In another episode, a thug called a hooker "puta sucia."

The crime bosses were mostly Latinos with names like "El Gato" and "Cinco" and "Rivas" and "Calderone."

The show featured a lot of stars before they became huge stars. They included Liam Neeson, Bill Paxton, Wesley Snipes, Annette Bening and Melanie Griffith (who would later have her daughter Dakota Johnson with Don Johnson.)