Before this week, the previous few weeks brought news of changes in Cuba.
The cynics screamed, the lovers cried, and the commies dreamed.
This week started with the brutal breakup of a peaceful sit-in by the Ladies In White and continued with Fidel warning the Cuban people that he was still making decisions and at the risk of state-sponsored psychological terrorism, he would continue to make the tough decisions to ensure that the free market system would never return to Cuba.
And it ended with Archbishop Ortega settling for the crumbs that the regime throws his way.
Not a word was spoken. The church bells all were broken. And the three men I admire most: The father, son, and the holy ghost, They caught the last train for the coast.
Some continue to be optimistic about the future.
I drove my Chevy to the levee singing that’ll be the day that I die.