Who is DocSoc?

Born in Cuba, I was uprooted and moved to the USA in 1971. At 4yrs old I found myself in a strange world where they spoke strangely; my family was given the ability to move to LA or IL and since my father spoke Spanish and French (sort of) he choose New Orleans, LA. Well as you can imagine if you’re old enough to remember LA in that time was heavily racially tensioned. My father the Physician found no work but that in the ship yards doing manual labor. My mother doing seamstress type work and I was on my way to school for the first time. We lasted there about 1yr before the riots of 72 broke out in New Orleans and WE really didn't fit in any cast, class, or race; we where Cubans in a Black and White world and we where the new grey (TAN). So, in the riots from what I recall there was a moment of hordes of people screaming and then glass breakage in our house and my father taking his newly acquired pistol out and firing a few shots. This cam about because some of the glass that broke upon shattering cut my mothers lower leg, right around the side of her calf if I remember correctly. It wasn’t always bad in LA I remember. There were times when I remember running in the neighborhood and playing with what now seems like a Benetton Commercial of kids! I recall one day when the neighbors to our side packed up many of the kids on the block into his wagon (Station Wagons where the SUV’s of that time), and I just stared at them, when I asked where they were going they said the ZOO! I stood there and was asked “Do you want to come”? I of course said yes, and when asked if my parents were ok with this I of course replied… “YES”! Even though they had NO idea, needles to say when we returned in the evening, the entire block was looking for me, including the local police. Guess that lays the foundation or at least describes the foundation of my personality and who I am at least partially. After the riots of 72 we packed all our belongings into a u-haul it, and onto a rent a hitch on the back of our Dodge Dart and head for the promised land of New York City, where it was said that there were plenty of Hispanics (Cuban, Puerto Rican, Dominican, and others). I was pretty excited about the move, I wasn’t feeling to secure in what my mind was a war zone, or the place that hurt my Mom. My fathers conversations were nothing but positive about NYC and that we would prosper better there while we awaited his ability to take the American boards and works again as a Doctor. On the trip it was a great we seemed all excited to get there and then the unthinkable, well at least to a 6yr old… We lost the hitch and the u-haul crashed and all our possessions were lost, we rummaged through the accident and saved what we could, and what would fit into the Dart. It wasn’t such a wonderful trip anymore…