It was the summer of 1996.
Jay-Z’s first album, Reasonable Doubt, had just been released, Michael Jordan had just won his fourth NBA championship, and Bill Clinton still knew the definition of the word “is.”
I was ten years old and my family headed to Miami Beach’s Eden Roc resort for one of my father’s biennial conferences for the Cuban American Medical Association.
For him this meant 3 days of lectures, meetings and glitzy dinners; for my sister and I this meant 3 days of unadulterated “fun in the sun.”
We’d get up early and hit the buffet around 8 or 9 am, then spend the rest of the day at the beach and the pool, playing games and horsing around with the many friends we had made with the other doctors’ kids.