TwoCubanWriters Qbnwriter@aol.com Category:  Gay/Lesbian/Bi Publisher: Rosalie G. Sanchez Type: Non-Fiction Pages: 181 Copyright: MAY 2009 ISBN-13: 9781615396702 Autobiographical. Authors Ofelia Fox and Rosa Sanchez shared their lives for over forty years. MIAMI BOOK FAIR INTERNATIONAL 2009 OPENED THE DOOR TO A DIFFERENT BUT TIMELY LOVE STORY The Fair was launching pad for the book NOSOTRAS, OPENING THE DOOR TO OUR LOVE LIFE, which reads like a letter from the authors or a romantic fantasy a ‘la The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, but it is in fact autobiographical. Ofelia Fox, wife of the owner of the famous cabaret Tropicana of Havana published two books of poetry in Cuba and when she came into exile became the first female personality of Spanish radio in Miami. In 2005 Ofelia co-authored TROPICANA NIGHTS, The Life and Times of the Legendary Cuban Night Club. Rosa Sanchez worked in radio since her youth and became a pioneer of the Spanish radio in Miami. They unexpectedly became love partners and their relationship lasted over four decades. In 1964 they moved to Hollywood, California where the couple faced their life together with an adventurous spirit and an unshakeable devotion for each other, raising Rosa’s boy, Toto, who is presently a successful businessman in Southern California. He is happily married and has three sons. Ofelia and Rosa never stopped creating and writing, parlaying Ofelia’s banking career with Rosa’s role as one of the first female Chief Financial Officers in an advertising agency in the West Coast while they were passionate part-time writers. The couple won many awards and were best defined in the highly regarded treatise “Women Playwrights of Diversity” a Bio-bibliographical Sourcebook by Jane T. Peterson and Suzanne Bennett, published in 1997: “Los Angeles based Rosa Sanchez and Ofelia Fox use theater to promote social awareness and have written extensively in both English and Spanish for radio, television and the theater. They combine comedy with serious themes, particularly those that affect women and Latinos. In their plays they bring to the surface homosexuality and AIDS…” Immediately after the mainstream media reported the passing of Ofelia Fox on January 2nd, 2006, several concerns reached out to Rosa; everyone interested in the details of their personal life. She turned down all requests, their private life, after all, was not for public consumption. The Fox-Sanchez hillside home had been a hub for many activities but recounting publicly over four decades of intimacy was not in Rosa’s plans, but close friends convinced her to share their life's experiences. Not without trepidation she agreed and gradually recognized that NOSOTRAS, OPENING THE DOOR TO OUR LOVE LIFE was an uplifting story begging to be shared. Still facing doubts about the task Rosa was ultimately persuaded to make the story public when she found documents, which Ofelia described as “her spiritual testament.” She had began to write it when she was still a very youthful seventy-seven year old woman full of vitality, dreams and enthusiasm; years before the diagnosis of cancer was a threat to their world. And so it was that Rosa found the way to, again, work with her favorite collaborator: Ofelia. In her spiritual testament Ofelia describes their journey as: “…thirty nine years of the life of two souls who played the game of love, oblivious of Destiny’s dirty tricks.” NOSOTRAS, OPENING THE DOOR TO OUR LOVE LIFE, is candidly written, charming, uplifting and appropriate for everyone. It extols unconditional love, exudes faith in God and Destiny and decidedly opens, not only the door to their love life, but to other spiritual concepts that slowly are coming out of the closet. For more details check the MIAMI HERALD'S article "WHEN OFELIA MET ROSA."      Excerpt Nothing in this book is fiction or has been embelished. With all those memories from the Eleanor apartment you’d think that the minute someone said “Eleanor” my first thought would be about this place. Well, no! On April 28th, 2006 a very generous medium, Marcel Cairo, whose tape I am now reviewing, said to me: “Ofelia is giving me sounds. El…El...It sounds like ‘Eleanor’” I couldn’t validate that. We didn’t know any woman named Eleanor! Marcel insisted: “Ofelia is showing me Los Angeles. It is something geographic. El…El…Could it be El Segundo?” I couldn’t validate that either. We had never been in the city of El Segundo. Two and a half years later, listening to Marcel’s tape and writing this chapter I finally get it. Eleanor! Eleanor! Ofelia showed Marcel Los Angeles because she was referring to the Eleanor apartment! Our exit from Eleanor was everything but graceful: Ofelia sped away from the driveway like the proverbial bat out of hell, with me by her side, Toto on the backseat holding the puppy and a still wet load of laundry in the trunk of our car. We were leaving behind Mr. and Mrs. G. battling it out in the middle of day. Their fights were not limited to the evening hours any more and Ofelia feared that one day we would be witnesses of a tragedy in that small family of four that was so terribly unhappy. ************************* When it comes to Ofelia my brain functions in a very different manner and engages in a very strict set of rules than when I am dealing with other people or issues. You can safely describe me as “obstinate.” So it is not easy to convince me that any ‘generic’ message comes from her. Back in April 2006 it took someone like Marcel, who behaved like an angel translating her messages for me. Only one of Ofelia’s clues or messages from that reading was mentioned a few pages ago: the Eleanor apartment. Marcel got a great deal more from Ofelia and he is not the only one who, very generously, has given me messages from her. It never ceases to amaze me that people, most of them strangers, could be so specific about things that they couldn’t have possibly known. Marcel was not only patient with me but very precise and quick, insisting on Ofelia repeating “Italy” and her message was: “Rosa knows what I am talking about. Italy! Italy!” Of course I knew: three times we planned a trip to Italy and every time it was cancelled at the very last minute. She joked about it: “God doesn’t want me to see Rome!” For those as incredulous as I have been: Marcel didn’t name other countries and he was clear about the emphasis Ofelia placed on Italy. Towards the end he mentioned Aruba. Why Aruba? There are dozens of small islands in the Caribbean. Aruba was special for us. In one of our cruises the ship docked in the tiny island and years later we went back with two friends. Baby Beach, in Aruba, is one of the most beautiful beaches we have ever seen. At the time we went there Aruba was hardly a popular destination; a rarely mentioned place until a young American girl disappeared there and Aruba was all over the news. In Marcel’s reading very specific and personal details surfaced. For example, through Marcel, Ofelia insisted on “mis zapatos” (“my shoes.”) There was no way in the world that Marcel could’ve known that about a week earlier, on an impulse, and for the first time in my life I had tried a pair of Ofelia’s shoes. A rack inside the walk-in closet held most of her shoes. I looked at the rack and a pair of brown shoes caught my eye. She had once told me that they were the most comfortable shoes she had ever worn. I am still as amazed that those shoes fit me, as I am that I had the impulse to try them on and wear them. In over four decades living together never before had I tried, or worn, any of her shoes. We wore different size and had different taste. Marcel didn’t hesitate or mention other garment or accessory. Just the shoes! He repeated: “My shoes.” And I was wearing Ofelia’s shoes on the evening of that reading. Marcel said things that cannot be proven or disproving, but the sole idea pleases me, so I’ll quote him again: “You are like twins!” There must be something to Marcel’s idea because very often friends slip and call me “Ofelia.” Of course everyone who does ends up apologizing profusely and puzzled as to why would they call me by her name. Among those that do call me “Ofelia” all the time is Valentin Jodra a trusted employee of Tropicana and personal friend of several decades. He never did it before but now I can count on him calling me “Ofelia.” Marcel also spoke about breaking a code and playing games. I didn’t think much about that because Ofelia and I played games all the time and I figured that he was referring to that. Now it appears to me that her message was very different. Many years ago, half-kidding and half-serious I told Ofelia: “Let’s come up with a password. It will be a foolproof test to confirm that there is another world and we are communicating!” She giggled and replied: “What if I forget the password?” “Naw! You’re not going to forget. I will remind you from time to time.” To that she laughed out loud: “What if you forget?” I kept the code very simple and I did remind her from time to time. She adored our pets. They were “our children” so the code was: “Our children.” We didn’t tell anyone. As far as I was concerned if just one other person knew our code the test wouldn’t have any validity. Of course that after January 2nd, 2006 I was so distraught that I forgot the whole thing. A Cuban psychologist-medium to whose blog a message was sent out by mistake and not by me, responded with the most kind and generous E-mail and we began corresponding. During April or May of 2008 the woman, every bit as generous as Marcel, asked me if Ofelia and I had “made a pact.” I was adamant: No, we had not made a pact! She insisted that Ofelia was giving her a message about “a pact.” I’m lucky to have run into mediums that know what they’re doing and are certain of what they’re hearing or seeing. That makes them persistent. Persistent is good for someone like me. She was sure the words from Ofelia sounded, in Spanish, like “pact” or “act” (“pacto” or “acto”) and I was sure that those words meant absolutely nothing to us! It took much probing but Ofelia and the medium finally cracked my thick skull with an image: Ofelia was holding a huge yellow cat; belly to the front and at her side a small dog. She was transmitting to the medium our secret code by showing her our beautiful cat Niño and our dog, Cremi. Once I got what Ofelia was projecting it was clear to me: “our children” and yes, we had made a “pacto” a pact, an agreement. And yes, it was my idea but she had been right all along: I had forgotten! It was easy to imagine Ofelia laughing at me. Of course in my defense I must say this: lacking mediumship tools led me to believe that if there was any form of communication with the other side it would be like a telephone call. Not like one of those charades we used to play in the house! I can’t repeat often enough that there was absolutely no way that this lady or anyone else could have known the password, and yes, it was a pact! And no, she had not seen pictures of our pets. And no, there was no financial gain for anyone involved. ****** EPILOG Farewell to one of the sweetest souls to ever roam this Earth. My Ofelia was taken from me on January 2, 2006 at 4 AM. I can call her mine because I had her for longer than her parents, her sisters, her brother and her husband. And I loved her, if not more than all of them combined, at least as much. Rich or poor Ofelia was the same woman to those who were rich or were poor. She accepted everything and everyone with patience and understanding and lived life with a great sense of joy so I can’t forget the rare situations when I watched her shed tears of sadness. She spared me all sorrows. She guided and loved me in a manner that no one else could. With everyone she was generous with her praise and her laughter. I have not felt, as I’ve been told I would, anger against her for leaving me on Earth. She succumbed to cancer because she had no choice. I know. She was graceful even then. Neither I have felt anger towards the entity that controls life and death. I think it was one more poor choice. What I have felt, and continue to feel, is an enormous void that nothing can fill and a sense of unfairness as I watch those who painfully drag themselves through life not loved by anyone as Ofelia was loved by me. There are some things that I regret. I regret not listening to her advice more often. I regret not been able to live now by her code. I regret not paying attention to the passing of time. I regret not asking her to end my life if she felt hers was winding down. I regret ignoring that she was only on loan to me. I regret having been so cautious and afraid. I regret that in most pictures she has her arm around me instead of me having my arm around her. I regret calling her “my angel” just in private and not in front of everyone. Our only treasure was our privacy and the respect we earned. Our secret was that we only wanted to make each other happy. Our passion was to protect each other from any pain. I hardly remember life before Ofelia. Someone said to me about our relationship: “I couldn’t be trapped that way.” I felt sorry for her. Everyone should be so lucky as to be ‘trapped’ in such love! Yes, I know, we were not unique. But I know we were rare. And neither one of us can take credit for that. On January 2nd, 2006, when only her spirit could hear me I whispered in her ear: "I love you now and I will love you again, and again, and again, when we meet again.” Whatever power controls this universe can’t be so cruel as not letting me have Ofelia once more. Nobody chose better words than Raoul Rizik, a director and dear friend who always called her “Señora Zorra.” He ended his E-mail to me with this quote: “Though nothing can bring back the splendor in the grass the glory in the flower we will grieve not; rather find strength in what remains behind.”

WHEN OFELIA MET ROSA
See November 1,2009 Miami Herald article by Lydia Martin: WHEN OFELIA MET ROSA

NOSOTRAS OPENS DOOR TO A STORY OF DEVOTION
By Lydia Martin, Miami Herald November 1, 2009
When Ofelia met Rosa: 'Nosotras' a story of devotion -
BY LYDIA MARTIN
lmartin@MiamiHerald.com
For more than four decades, Ofelia Fox and Rosa Sanchez always shared a car. They could easily have afforded two cars, but driving places separately would have robbed them of time together.

Because they lived in traffic-choked Los Angeles, they turned down jobs that would have prevented one from dropping off the other in the morning. The idea of not meeting for lunch every day was simply unthinkable.

``I hardly remember life before Ofelia,'' writes Rosa Sanchez, 75, who will appear Nov. 15 at Miami Book Fair International to read (in English) from Nosotras: Opening the Door to Our Love Life, the self-published memoir she wrote after Ofelia Fox died of colon cancer three years ago at 82. ``Someone said to me about our relationship: `I couldn't be trapped that way.' I felt sorry for her. Everyone should be so lucky as to be trapped in such love.''

The women met in Miami in the early 1960s. Ofelia was married to Martín Fox, the former owner of Havana's famed Tropicana, the modernist, open-air nightclub where stunning show girls danced under starry skies, and big spenders in tuxedos drove up in cars sleek with tailfins to gamble the night away. Martín ran it in the 1950s, Havana's heyday. The elegant, worldly Ofelia, who appears in one cabaret photo wearing a pink mink stole, the gift of mob boss Santo Trafficante Jr., was its first lady.

While Martín schmoozed the casino crowd, Ofelia wined and dined the VIPS: Liberace, Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, Ernest Hemingway, Ava Gardner, Errol Flynn, Marlon Brando, Edith Piaf, Elizabeth Taylor, Tyrone Power. Nat ``King'' Cole, Josephine Baker, Yma Sumac, Paul Robeson, Carmen Miranda and Celia Cruz performed at the club. In 1960, after Castro's revolution took over their business, the Foxes fled to Miami to remake their lives.

HIDDEN MONEY

Not long after, however, Martín suffered a debilitating stroke. He had been moving money out of Cuba even before the revolution, Ofelia explains in Tropicana Nights: The Life and Times of the Legendary Cuban Nightclub, her nostalgic memoir written with Cuban-American writer Rosa Lowinger and published in 2005 by Hartcourt. But now he was unable to communicate, and Ofelia had never been told where he kept their money or how much there was.

Overnight, she was penniless.
Rosa Sanchez, born in Sancti Spiritus, a colonial city in Central Cuba, had been to Tropicana only once, when she was under age. When she met Ofelia, she was separated from her husband, raising a son and working as the first female executive at Miami radio station WMIE, eventually La Cubanisima.

The women felt a connection the second they saw each other in a hallway of the station, from which Ofelia had begun broadcasting political messages to Cuban exiles arriving regularly from the island. They quickly formed a tight friendship.

But in 1964, Ofelia kissed goodbye the husband who no longer recognized her and left town with Rosa and her 5-year-old son. They hitched a U-Haul to Ofelia's Chevy Impala and drove across country to start again far from Miami. After 21 days of roadside diners and lumpy motel beds, they decided to settle in L.A.

They had been there a year and a half when, one day at the post office, another Cuban woman who had heard their familiar accents struck up a conversation and invited them to a party.
Lydia Martin
lmartin@miamiherald.com
Lydia Martin is a longtime features writer and columnist for The Miami Herald. Her Lunch with Lydia column has featured conversations with everyone from Jennifer Lopez to the president of PETA. She has been with The Herald since 1986. More


When Ofelia met Rosa: 'Nosotras' a story of devotion