In 1957 I fell madly in love for the first time. I was 8, and her name was Doris Day. One summer afternoon my mother and I were in her car, a 1955 red and white Ford Fairlane, riding through the streets of our hometown, Havana, Cuba, when the radio station played “Que Sera Sera.” Her signature song was very popular, even in Cuba. When my mother bought the LP album with Doris on the cover, I was hooked.
I did not speak English, so the only words I really understood and could sing along were “que sera que sera,” which literally means: whatever will be will be. But, my mom, who had lived and studied in New York City for two years, took the time to translate the rest of the lyrics for me. Little did I know how prophetic the refrain from the song would be to my family in the next three years: “Que sera sera/Whatever will be will be/The future is not ours to see/Que sera sera.”
Indeed, it is a good thing that the future is not ours to see, for if we were to know it in its entirety it would be too scary for most of us to bear.
In 1957, I could have easily predicted what my probable future would be. After all, my entire family was from Cuba—heck, one branch had been there 450 years! Had I been asked that summer day, I would have said that I hoped to be a lawyer like my dad and practice law in Cuba, marry a nice Cuban girl (this is a redundancy, as all Cuban girls are nice), and raise a family in Havana like generations before me had done.
But, in 1959, the Communists came and we fled our island paradise. Early in the morning on Aug. 11, 1960, my mom, dad, brother, sister and I boarded a ferry in Havana that took us to Key West and our new life in the United States. My grandmother and grandfather did not come to the port to say goodbye. Instead, abuela announced that they would park by the side of the road, in plain view of the harbor, and wave a red handkerchief as the boat left. My last memory of Cuba 47 years ago, as we steamed out, was of the Morro Castle on the starboard side and on the port side, at a distance, my grandmother’s red handkerchief waving over their heads.
My family settled in Miami. We learned English and went about creating a new life. In 1969, I was a junior at Florida State University majoring in international affairs when I met a cute, vivacious girl from Chicago with the same major. Her name was Patricia McFarlane. I was almost over Doris Day, so we dated and fell in love. As she tells it, the girl from Chicago and the boy from Cuba decided to have their own international affair. The following fall, I asked her to marry me. It was the best decision of my life! And it has made all the difference. I have always believed that whoever you marry has the infinite capacity to make you happy or miserable, so you better choose with care and have a lot of luck.
After graduate business school at FSU, where I accidentally became acquainted with risk management and insurance, we moved to Miami. I went to work as a young producer at Pennekamp Insurance Agency, which eventually became Pennekamp and Soto Insurance Agency and was a precursor to Insource Inc., our present agency. As a career path, the independent agency system rewarded my entrepreneurship and diverse background. Patt and I started a family and had two boys: Alex and Patrick. The boys are 50% Cuban and 100% American.
In long (too late for short), my life has turned out positively wonderful! In my wildest dream, on that warm Havana Summer day in 1957, I could not have guessed the path my life would take. It would have been too scary. As that great philosopher, Forrest Gump’s mama said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.”
The rest of this magazine is all about insurance. I thought I would give you and me a break in the early pages. I hope you did not mind.
Alex Soto
President
