I purchased my Ybor City cigar maker’s casita in 1992. I had been working in Ybor City for several years and its Latin ambience, distinct and evocative, had taken hold of me. The urban character of Ybor City was irresistible and I decided it was where I wanted to live. As I settled into my tin-roofed wood frame cottage, the seduction grew deeper. I was (and continue to be) endlessly fascinated with the complex and colorful past of Ybor City. With each step in and around my neighborhood, this unique history was like a ghost shadowing me. With each breath, the smells of Cuban food, roasting coffee beans and cigars tantalized me. With each glance, the architecture of a proud people, expressing its magnificence and its humility, captivated me. I had planted myself in a multi-ethnic, immigrant town whose roots ran very deep.
I also began to understand the admonitions, stated in different ways, that our future path is made clearer by understanding where we have been. It may not have been the past of my specific forbearers, but it was the past of a place I now called home. By caring for this history, we create a salve that eases the discomfort of feeling lost in a constantly changing society, one that worships the "newest of the new."
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