Our County, Our Country, Our Stories

The 250th anniversary reminds us that America’s promise is still unfolding. At The Rising Start, we see that promise in the work of inclusion and acceptance for autistic and neurodivergent students and young adults. Freedom becomes personal when a young person is welcomed, understood, and given the chance to learn, grow, and belong in their community. In Miami-Dade, building a more inclusive future means making opportunity real for every family. Our story is not only about acceptance today, but about shaping a stronger, kinder America for tomorrow.

My father, Bernard H. Singer, a 30 year resident of Bal Harbour, may be the oldest living POW at 103. From Lynn, Massachusetts, he was drafted by the army, sent to Europe and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. I’m not sure that many know that that battle was the bloodiest as far as Americans, in the whole of WW II – more Americans killed and captured than any other battle. In the freezing cold of Belgium, he was captured on his 22nd birthday, December 25, 1944 and taken by rail cars (similar to death camp going Jews), to Stalag 9B in Bad Orb, Germany. upon knowing he was gonna be captured, he threw away his dog tags as they had a soldier’s religion on them (“H” for Hebrew). When he saw they were segregating the Jewish soldiers at the camps, he went to them and told him he was Jewish. They lived out the rest of the war there, largely starving, as my father went from 180 pounds to 90 pounds, until they were liberated by U.S. Seventh Army in April 1945, about the a month before the end of the war.

My founding father, Enrique de la Torre, arrived in Miami with nothing but a battered typewriter and the weight of exile. A journalist in Cuba, he had written truths the regime couldn’t silence, so they silenced him instead—until he fled and created his on television show. In Miami, he rebuilt: late nights translating stories, teaching me English by candlelight, whispering, “This country gave us a second chance, mija. Honor it.” He never complained about the culture shock, the language barriers, the lost years. He just worked until his hands shook, so I could walk into school proud, head high, an American. When death took him, I held his typewriter and cried—not for what we lost, but for the nation he gave me.

Our family believes the future starts with small actions. For over three years, we have been organizing clean-ups, creating eco-art, and inspiring other families in Miami to care for nature. Through our initiative “Little Earth Hero,” we teach children that protecting the planet is part of everyday life. We dream of a future where communities come together, children grow with environmental awareness, and kindness toward nature becomes a shared value.

Cuando en los tiempos del Covid al no encontrar trabajo alguno tuve que irme a dormir a la calle. En ese momento, encontrandome desesperado y deprimido (nunca antes habia yo vivido en la calle), una voz interior me dijo dejara de quejarme y que me ponga a hacer lo que mejor sabia. Empece a pintar pequenos cuadros, los cuales empece a vender en la calle con mucho exito. Esto empezo en West Palm en el vecindario de lake Worth beach. De alli recorri muchas ciudades del sur de la Florida, pintando mascotas, retratos, y todo lo q la gente me pidiece. Hoy me encuentro ya hace 5 meses en la preciosa ciudad de Miami (para mi la ciidad mas bella de todo el sur de la Florida) con mis suenos ampliados y con la intension de dar lo mejor de mi aqui.

As the United States marks its 250th anniversary, I see this moment as a reflection of what we are building today. As an immigrant, I have always admired America for its freedom and international culture. Miami reflects this as a city shaped by people from around the world. Through Artistic Voices, I bring a European cultural perspective, creating a platform based on support, mentorship, and education. Our concert series — including programs focused on healing through music — introduce a higher level of classical music and artistic quality. I see Miami as a city that can reach the level of major cultural capitals, and I am actively contributing to that future.

In 1961, I arrived from Cuba with mom and sisters, dad was here waiting for us. Mom was a teacher and requested a year leave so I was sure we'd be back in a year. Seven years later my boyfriend was discharged from the US Army and we got married. I went to college already married. We had a daughter who is Fire/Rescue Captain for Dade County and a son, teacher, Real Estate & business. My husband, Frank Reyes, logistics Director for the 3 largest companies in the world.

In 1995, I founded a cultural, bilingual non profit organization, The Cove/Rincon. And here I am with a heart half-Cuban, half-American and Miami-Dade my home for 65 years.

I carry immense pride as a Kingian Nonviolence Practitioner, walking in the sacred footsteps of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King! Commemorating our nation’s history deepens my responsibility to live their legacy. Standing beside Coretta was not just an amazing historical moment; it was a calling that stirred my soul. Through my training at the Florida Martin Luther King Jr. Institute for Nonviolence, I embraced a lifelong mission rooted in love, courage, and unwavering justice. In a world still yearning for healing, I choose nonviolence not as an idea, but as an action, transforming pain into purpose, while uplifting humanity through nonviolence for generations to come.

I was 10 years old in the 1970s when my mother made a decision that would change the course of our lives. For the first time, she entered the workforce—against my Hispanic father’s wishes. In our culture, women were expected to stay home, care for their husbands, raise the children, and manage the household. But my mother was different. Courageous. Determined. Ironically, she chose a position in one of the most male-dominated environments imaginable: the Miami-Dade County Corrections & Rehabilitation Department.

She began as a Property Clerk, surrounded by uniforms, authority, and rules. It wasn’t easy. My father disapproved, and the tension at home eventually led to divorce.That job, the one that caused so much conflict, became her lifeline. She excelled, proving her worth every single day. Through the hardest chapter of her life, MDCR gave her strength, independence, and pride. Even after an on-the-job injury forced her to retire early, she spoke of her time there with deep gratitude. It wasn’t just a job; it was the foundation of her resilience.Years later, in 1983, I followed in her footsteps, joining MDCR as a Corrections Officer. Over the next 33 years, I rose through the ranks to become the first Hispanic female Director. Like my mother, I am eternally grateful to MDCR for the opportunity it gave both of us. A priceless gift of purpose, strength, and a legacy of courage

There is rarely a time or moment where I can forget My Abuela’s journey and my Abuelo’s dissent Leaving their lives to a land and a language which their tongues had yet to expand The palm trees swayed a hello with jobs that were humbling in a constant rig amore The cafecito on 8the street carried its scent to every office at 3 o clock As we introduced our customs, our follies to this new flock The merengue cakes from the bakery kept Cuba by our windows and the recuerdos hit our parties with our loud voices to take stock With all the weddings, quinces, baptisms and graduations to help us stay Creating the connections to build this new community that just wanted to play. La Familias,the funerals and the domino games, were me in every way What privilege I’ve had to be born and raised but with a burden of sadness for those Abuelo’s income could not save Our beaches and music hum all around till this day yet Cuba sits in the dark with rum dreams only 90 miles away. I’ve never seen her, or the beauty Abuela’s pictures show of her but Cuba is in our dna, our music and in our dismay To my Abuela Olga and Abuelo Mario-for what you left and for creating our barrio My undying debt for growing up in the Magic City-you and all my Cuban extended Family who helped create our USA home.

South Dade Women Veterans Alliance (SDWVA), founded eight years ago in Miami-Dade County by U.S. Army Veteran Julie Robison, was created to address the lack of visibility and support for women veterans. As the county’s first women-veteran-focused nonprofit, SDWVA is grounded in the belief that women are veterans too. The organization serves women across generations through trauma-informed, community-based programs that promote healing, leadership, and legacy preservation. In partnership with Miami-Dade County leadership, SDWVA has helped elevate women veterans through advocacy, public engagement, and policy dialogue. Today, SDWVA continues building forward, ensuring women veterans remain seen, heard, and valued for generations to come.

I am a native Miamian who is a descendant of Stephen Hopkins of Rhode Island an original signer of the Declaration of Independence through my great great great great grandfather Leprilet Hopkins. As a delegate, Stephen knew once he signed The Declaration and proclaimed the Thirteen Colonies were now "free and independent States", that he could be signing his own death warrant for treason against Great Britain. Leprilet Hopkins was also a rebel like his ancestor. He left Rhode Island and in 1857 joined Johnson Army going to the Utah Territory. He decided to stay and that set in motion the future birth of my mother who later came to Miami. On my father’s side, my grandfather William Lapane was captured in WWII during the battle of the Bulge and was a POW. He survived and married his sweetheart. My father, his son also a patriot joined the Air Force during Vietnam war and was assigned to Homestead Air Force Base and stayed afterwards. We are Miami.

I envision a Miami-Dade where arts and culture are at the heart of our community, inspiring connection and unity. A place where diversity is celebrated, every voice is valued, and creativity empowers all. Through music, theater, visual arts, and storytelling, we educate, inspire, and bring people together. Public spaces filled with artistic expression and programs supporting young creators strengthen understanding, opportunity, and pride. By embracing our heritage, fostering innovation, and nurturing creativity, Miami-Dade can become an even greater model of inclusion and joy, a community where culture and diversity shape a brighter, stronger future for everyone.

My name is Vonshari Hoardes. I started my career with Miami-Dade Corrections at 23, a choice that laid the foundation for my life today. Working in corrections taught me discipline, patience, responsibility, and accountability. It showed the value of service and the strength to show up daily, do the job, even when it’s hard and unseen. Thanks to MDCR, I earned a captain’s license, bought a 26-foot Sea Ray, and started a small boat charter business. I became a licensed real estate agent and bought my first investment property, unlocking financial freedom. Corrections shaped me. I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve.

At 15, I emigrated here, from Jamaica, arriving with both uncertainty and hope for my future. America has afforded me 32 years of service for Miami Dade, where I’ve spent 23 with the former MDPD, and 9 as a Training Specialist with Corrections and Rehabilitation. My formative career and current role have taught me the impact of guidance, and how our differences strengthen our community. I feel grateful for my journey. For every teaching moment, and for those I’ve worked with along the way. Miami-Dade has shaped who I am. In return, I hope my work has made a difference.

My name is Barbara C. Enriquez, and I arrived in the land of freedom, the United States, in1979 at the end of June, I was only 9 years old, and, in a few days, I would get to experience and celebrate my first 4th of July Holiday. I was proud to be here and celebrate the land of the free at my age and start a new life studying and learning the language. Everyone wanted to speak English, but my parents never spoke the language, but they understood a lot to understand my conversations with my friends. While the years moved on rapidly, I was becoming a teenager and a woman using the opportunity my parents put in my hands and my path to become an American citizen and build my own life, in the land of the free. I graduated from high school, and I was a model for a few years, then I was married 3 times, had my kids but that’s a long story. I continued my education and every time I divorced, I would head back to school for a new career. I started working as a cashier/Permit counter representative for Miami Dade County for the Building Department thanks to Hurricane Andrew 1992. I was then promoted to a supervisor with Miami Dade Water and Sewer in the Meter Shop. I then was promoted to the Customer Service Division for Miami-Dade Water and Sewer, opening and closing water accounts, answering the phones, and helping the customer and providing excellent customer service. I then was promoted to the New Business Division revising plans and issuing permits. While acquiring all those promotions I learned how to give back to this nation.

During my career, I continued studying and obtaining higher learning degrees in different fields such as medical assistant after my first divorce, a massage therapist after the 2nd divorce and finally in my last marriage, I meet my 3rd husband whose is also living the American dream and is a Cuban Phycologist from Cuba and I joined him to get a Bachelor for himself in the USA and I completed my 4-year bachelor’s degree from Ana G Mendez University and graduated with honors as a criminology specialist in fingerprint. I have interviewed 7 times for the police department and was placed 2nd placed in all my interviews, Since I did not have experience in the field, they would not give me the opportunity to work as a Criminologist but am still applying. Still, I would not have had these opportunities in Cuba. Unfortunately, I buried my parents here in the USA and my children built their life here as Americans who now have their own family in freedom, I would not be able to have this life if I remained in Cuba.

I am almost ready to retire. I can honestly say that for these past 47 years I have loved and enjoyed being part of the United States. Living in Miami-Dade has meant living in a place where cultures meet, and dreams grow. My family came here seeking freedom, and I see that promise every day. America is about the chance to learn, speak freely, and build a future. In Miami, our diversity and melting pot is our strength. We celebrate traditions while embracing progress. As the nation turns 250, I hope we continue to unite through respect and hope, creating a community where every voice matters. America gave my family a second chance. Growing up in Miami-Dade, I learned that being American means believing in possibilities and living with a mix of cultures and where opportunity thrives. Freedom is not just a word—it’s the ability to work hard and dream big and protect our land and traditions while embracing progress. I love the United States, and this is my story.

I arrived in Miami from Cuba a little over eight years ago, carrying the weight of repression from the Cuban dictatorship, still fresh in my body and soul. I came exhausted and searching for the same thing millions before me had sought: freedom. Here I found a diverse, intense, noisy city, made up of many voices, shared exiles, and stories of loss and rebirth, and I found something invaluable: belonging. I also found purpose.

Today, I serve this county as a hospice chaplain, providing spiritual support to people and families in moments of vulnerability, illness, farewell, transition, and crisis. I walk alongside those who suffer, listen to stories that never make headlines, and hold hands that need human presence. I live this service not merely as a job, but as an act of civic gratitude and giving back. Miami offered me refuge; I respond with care, listening, and commitment. Serving is my way of honoring the country that opened its doors to me.

America’s greatness lies not only in its declaration of independence, but in its daily practice of freedom. I am part of that living story: those who were welcomed and now contribute to sustaining that openness. It honors me, through spiritual service, to help keep open the doors that were once opened for me.

One of my earliest memories of 1961 Miami, after moving from Michigan’s Arctic cold, was watching the biannual land crab migrations across the lawns and hot asphalt of Haitian Drive in Cutler Bay. We lived near Bel Aire Canal, and the crabs came in waves from Biscayne Bay, sometimes traveling miles inland through the salty mangroves, farmlands & canals. Around the same time, more than 1/2 million Cubans arrived in Miami after the 1959 revolution led by Fidel Castro. As a six-year-old, I quickly realized many of the new arrivals spoke only Spanish and they often got lost in our neighborhood. Determined to help, I studied street maps and learned Spanish from my neighbor, a retired Puerto Rican Army Colonel. Soon I was giving directions and selling five-gallon buckets of live land crabs to grateful drivers for five dollars. My roadside stand grew, including mangos, avocados, vegetables, earthworms and black dirt. When my family moved closer to Biscayne Bay, the crabs were more plentiful. With help from my three younger brothers, we expanded the operation. Over four to five years, I earned more than $3,250 and gave it to my parents to help pay down our $15,000 mortgage, with the money we earned largely from the migrating land crabs. In high school, I worked side jobs, and we spent many Saturdays at Key Biscayne’s Crandon Park. There, Cuban friends held anti-Castro rallies. Thanks to my early Spanish lessons, I spoke passionately against communism, still hopeful for a free Cuba. Timothy Wright, C&R Facilities Superintendent.

The ABU &LOLO Foundation was born from the belief that every book can open a door to child’s future. Inspired by the cultural diversity that defines Miami Dade celebrate 250 years of history ,we work to promote early literacy and bilingual education, preparing new generations to actively participate in a nation we proudly honor the legacy of à community shaped by education, resilience, and diversity.Through initiatives such as the ABU &LOLO Mobile Library, we seek to plant the seeds of knowledge that will strengthen the educational future of the United States.

My ancestors came to the United States from Europe among generations of Jews forced to flee their homeland seeking safe refuge. I came to Miami from Philadelphia seeking a lifelong love with a man-turned-monster whose greatest gift was to bring me to the Magic City. My divorce from him was the start of a new connection to the breadth of people and cultures who shape this vibrant space. Among them are the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians of Florida, who have been and continue to be the stewards of our sacred Florida Everglades ecosystem throughout the more than 200 years since their ancestors, the Creek Indians, arrived. This poem contemplates what it means to belong to a place and find those equally committed to protecting it, regardless of how long each has called it home.

America’s 250 year story has always been shaped by immigrants who arrived with hope and courage, believing this land offered possibility, not fear. As an immigrant I know by our equally long history, now being erased, that our labor-built cities, tilled fields, and fueled innovation; our cultures enriched the national fabric. Often, our faith in America exceeded America’s faith in its own self. This spirit that endures at the Statue of Liberty, whose torch became a global symbol of welcome. Its inscription “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” is not mere poetry. It is a declaration of identity, a promise to the world, and a reminder of who we aspired to be. Today, that promise is being tested. Policies driven by fear, rhetoric steeped in division, and actions rooted in exclusion now cast a shadow. The torch of liberty flickers under the weight of mistrust. This disappointment is not cynicism it is love: love for the ideals that shaped this country, for the belief that America is strongest when it opens its arms. Freedom loses meaning when it is not shared. We cannot honor the founding principles while turning away those seeking refuge and dignity. This is a time of reflection and renewal because the same courage that built America can restore its commitment to compassion. At 250 years, the nation stands at a crossroads: one path narrows who belongs; the other reclaims the expansive promise etched at Liberty’s feet. The choice will define the next century.

My American journey began at the age of six, when my parents made the life-altering decision to leave Cuba and bring my brother and me to Miami. They sacrificed everything they knew—family, comfort, and certainty — to free us from the tyranny and dictatorship that defined life in their homeland. What they gave us was far greater than material security; they gave us the opportunity to live in freedom, to dream without fear, and to shape our own future. Growing up in the United States instilled in me a deep love for this country and an appreciation for the values it stands for: liberty, opportunity, and service. That love compelled me to serve eight years in the United States Army, where I learned discipline, leadership, and the true meaning of selfless service. Wearing the uniform was my first opportunity to give back to a nation that had given my family everything. Today, I am proud to serve as the Division Director of the Water Transmission and Distribution Division for Miami-Dade County. In this role, I continue to repay my debt to this country by serving the community that welcomed my family decades ago. Every day, I work to ensure reliable and safe water service for our residents, knowing that public service is one of the highest expressions of gratitude. As the United States celebrates its 250th anniversary, I remain forever thankful for the freedom this nation provides my family and me. My journey is a testament to the promise of America—and to the enduring power of service, sacrifice, and opportunity.