An American Son: A Memoir

by Marco Rubio

  I have sought the counsel of some of my senior colleagues who have walked the road I’m walking now. Some of them got the balance wrong, and privately admit it. Their children grew up in their absence. Most of their kids turned out fine, but they know they missed the most cherished moments in a father’s life, and have to live with the nagging remorse they would never have the chance to re create them. When your children grow up, they stay grown up forever.

  Others did better. They turned down opportunities to travel, to join the leadership or run for president. They cherish the memories other colleagues had missed. They were present for the children despite the demands of public office. But they, too, admit they missed other moments, and now live with the nagging wonder of what might have happened had they taken their shot at a bigger ambition, when the opportunity was there.

  There was no easy answer for them, and there won’t be one for me, either.

  I am just one generation removed from my father’s destitute childhood, and two generations removed from the tragedies of my grandfather’s life.

  But our story does not end with me. The first of my children was born sixteen years after my grandfather took his last breath. My older daughter was only ten when my father died. What is the purpose of exceeding two generations of unfulfilled dreams if those dreams end with me? Don’t my children deserve what I had: a loving, attentive father whose sole ambition was to make his children’s life better than his own? If I’m focused only on my dreams, who will help them pursue theirs?

  What’s the answer then? Should only childless people serve in high public office? Or only people willing to sacrifice their family’s happiness? That can’t be true.

  I don’t really know the answer yet. I’m slowly starting to figure it out, though. By most worldly standards, my father and my grandfather were not successful men. They never made much money. They never achieved social or political prominence. I admired them, I loved them, but I never considered them successful. For me success was what you accomplished in your career. But now that I have achieved what I once believed was the height of success, I am starting to understand that in the end, just like my father and grandfather, the mark I make in this world will not be decided by how much money I make or how many titles I attain. Rather, the greatest mark I can leave is the one I will make as a father and a husband.

  I have begun to learn and accept that all experiences in life are fleeting, and in our last days the most fortunate of us will die as my father died: surrounded by people who loved him and whose lives were better for his place in them. Not many people die with the regret they hadn’t worked more. What we regret are the T ball games we missed, the first day of school we didn’t make, the simple, ordinary events that taken together create the lasting bond between parent and child. I know the work I do can be a good and honorable thing, especially if I use my office to honor God. But I know its costs, too.

  In my first few months in Washington, Senator Patrick Leahy of Vermont sought me out on the Senate floor one day. He wanted to know how I was adjusting to life in the Senate. It was a sincere and kind gesture on his part, and I deeply appreciated it. I told him I loved it except for the fact that I missed my wife and kids terribly. I missed the chaos of getting them ready for school in the morning. I missed the struggle to wind them down every night and put them in bed. And I missed watching a movie alone with Jeanette after they had fallen asleep.

  His expression changed from someone engaging in small talk to that of a man who knew something important and wanted to share it. He offered me a simple admonition, straightforward but powerful advice.

  Over the years, he said, he had missed his share of family events while he was stuck in Washington casting a critical vote or working on important legislation. Everyone has a job to do, he acknowledged, and this was his. Almost all parents miss something in their children’s lives because they had work to do. Your kids will understand.

  But once, when his children were still young, the president called him personally to invite him to an important occasion. When he checked his calendar, he found it conflicted with one of his children’s events, and he called the president back and respectfully declined his offer. Years later, he couldn’t remember the event the president had invited him to, but his children had never forgotten that he had turned down the president of the United States to be with them.

  We all have a job to do and we ought to do it well. In my profession, I have all sorts of opportunities to do interesting and exciting things. There are important people I can meet, exciting events I can attend and interesting places I can visit. But if I have to choose them over my children, they’re not worth doing.

  Just after New Year’s of 2012, Jeanette and I had the opportunity to join an official delegation to Africa. It would have been an interesting and valuable experience to witness America’s foreign aid programs in action. Over the last few years, the generosity of the American people has saved the lives of four million people in Africa who are suffering with AIDS. I support the program and it has to be reauthorized this year. The trip would have helped me make the argument that it was in our national interest to maintain it.

  But as the trip approached, I found out Anthony had a flag football game and Amanda had a cheerleading competition scheduled during the trip. Daniella was distraught that her parents would be away for eight days. They all had homework every night. Amanda had a big science project to finish, and Dominick was having a hard time pronouncing his letters in pre K reading.

  Our kids needed us at home. My job wanted me in Africa. I might not have another opportunity for a while to see how American assistance was helping make the world a better, healthier place. We moved forward with the trip. We got the necessary shots and had started taking malaria pills. We made arrangements for my sister to take the kids to school and pick them up in the afternoon. My mother in law would stay with them at night. My nephew Landy had promised to take Anthony to his flag football game and practices. We woke up the morning of the trip with our bags packed and our boarding passes printed. All that remained to do was drop the kids off at school, say our good-byes and drive to the airport.

  On the drive to the airport, I was pulled in two directions. With so much going on in our kids’ lives, it didn’t seem right to be away from home for more than a week. But I didn’t feel I should pass up this opportunity, either. It would be hard to back out of the trip at the last minute. Then I remembered Senator Leahy’s advice and realized I was choosing a useful experience that I would like to have but didn’t need to have over the needs of my children. I thought God was testing me again, and giving me another chance to prove what I often claimed, but didn’t always live up to: that being a husband and father was more important than being a senator.

  So many times, I have tried to have it both ways. I’ve tried to be all in as a husband and father and all in as a politician, and I didn’t do either job as well as I should have. We all have many chances in our lives to choose wisely and do the right thing. Not only our lives but the lives of our children are a history of our choices. My history began when my grandfather chose to leave Cabaiguán for Havana, where his daughters would have a chance at a better life. My choices were made possible by my parents’ decision to come to America, to move us to Las Vegas and then bring us back to Miami, to work into their seventies. They are the beginning of my story, and I am the epilogue of theirs, as my children will be the epilogue of mine.

  There will be other trips. But my children will never be this age again.

  I picked my children up from school that day, and felt joy as I saw their surprised looks as they discovered their father, who they thought was already somewhere in Africa, waiting for them. Years from now, I might remember the trip to Africa I didn’t take only because I included it in this book. But I think my children will always remember the day their father chose them over Africa, and waited outside their school to hug them and bring them home.

  Acknowledgments

  O
ne of the first things I learned while writing an account of my life was not to rely entirely on my fallible memory. Luckily, I had a great deal of help reconstructing my family’s past, none more valuable than the contributions my sister Veronica made both to recalling our story and then writing it. I am much indebted to her. My brother, Mario, and sister Barbara were very helpful as well, especially in recalling the family’s early years in America before I was born. My aunts Georgina and Magda also supplied important recollections as did, of course, my mother, Oriales Rubio.

  I was fortunate to be represented and advised by my experienced and wise lawyer Bob Barnett, and to be in the care of an excellent publishing house, Sentinel. I want to thank especially my publisher, Adrian Zackheim, for his encouragement and counsel; associate publisher, Will Weisser; and the indefatigable Niki Papadopoulos, who edited the book with great skill and intelligence. I am grateful to Mark Salter for helping me organize and revise the manuscript on a tight schedule.

  Thanks are also due to Allison McLean and Christy D’Agostini for arranging publicity for the book; Natalie Horbachevsky for the interior art and jacket routing and for coordinating the Spanish edition; and everyone in Sentinel’s production team, who worked diligently to bring this book to market in record time.

  Writing about my Senate campaign reminded me again how much I owe the people who worked so hard to help elect me. Good campaigns make good candidates, and they are the work of many talented, dedicated individuals. I was fortunate to have more than my fair share of some of the best people in the business. In no specific order I want to thank each of you. David Rivera, Alina Garcia, Ralph Arza, Steve and Viviana Bovo, Esther Nuhfer and Gaston Cantens. My campaign chairman, Al Hoffman. My finance chairman, Jay Demetree. My campaign manager, Jose Mallea. Heath Thompson, Todd Harris, Malorie Thompson, Julio Rebull Jr., Albert Martinez, Alex Burgos, Pat Shortridge, Anthony Bustamante, Brandon Patty, Whit Ayres, Zach Burr, Carmen Miller Spence, Ann Herberger, Michael Beach, Dawn Dettling, Patrick Mooney, Eileen Pineiro, JR Sanchez, Luke Marchant, Joe Pounder, Jeff Bechdel, Orlando “Landy” Cicilia, Emily Bouck, Jessica Fernandez, Genessa Casanova, Carlos Fleites, Ashley Beach, Clay Williams, Chris Siercks, Tara Emory, Todd Lewis, Ali Pardo, Lauren Pardo, Tiffany Watkins, John Heffernan, Gina Alonso, Nury Soler, Mike Miller, Alyn Cruz-Higgins, Waldemar Serrano, Luis Hernandez, Javier Correoso, Sharon Day, Robert Fernandez, Deborah Demoss Fonseca, Mario Loyola, Chauncey Goss, Dean Clancy, Andy Laperriere, Sally Canfield, Cesar Conda, Chris Faulkner, Tony Feather, Wendy Grant, Michael Larcher, Nancy McGowan, Tony DiMatteo, Jorge Arrizurieta, Bill Bunting, Jeb Bush, Jr., Chip Case, Larry Cretul, David Custin, Teresa Dailey, Mac McGehee, Bill Diamond, Vivian Diaz, Bob Diener, Sid Dinerstein, Brett Doster, Bertica Cabrera Morris, Gov. Luis Fortuno, Gov. Jeb Bush, Sen. Jim DeMint, Gov. Mike Huckabee, Rudy Giuliani, Erick Erickson, Miguel Fana, Manny Fernandez, Stanley and Gay Gaines, Mark Gerson, Domingo Sanchez, Raul and Betty Fernandez, Marta Flores, Rebeca Sosa, Gerardo Ramos, Dennis Baxley, Nelson Diaz, Larry Godwin, Gary Lee, Tom Lee, Paul Singer, Harlan Crow, David Johnson, Dexter Lehtinen, the Leon family, Lisa Lorenzo, Javier Manjarres, Steve Marin, David McKalip, Tom and Gina Mestre, Dario Moreno, Ana Navarro, Bexie Nobles, Modesto Perez, Ralph Perez, Sergio and Tatiana Pino, Sam Rashid, Chet Renfro, Blaise Ingoglia, Dan Senor, Christian Camera, Amber Stoner, Stanley Tate, Joaquin Urquiola, Steve Wasserstein and Ovi Vento.

  I am grateful to all our team leaders, our small-dollar donors who kept us afloat, supporters who attended early Tea Party rallies, the people whose prayers kept us going and the volunteers who may have never met me but worked tirelessly for my election nonetheless. And of course to the people of Florida for the privilege of representing them in the U.S. Senate.

  My thanks also to the Fanjul family for believing in me early on when few did.

  To my dear friends the Braman family, in particular Norman Braman, whose advice, interest in my growth as a father and husband and pride in my accomplishments remind me of the role my grandfather and father once played.

  To my mother in law, Maria Giraldo, for helping us keep things together at home, and to my extended family of in laws, nieces and nephews—the Fonsecas, Guidis, Nereys, Fleites and Tedones—who volunteered their time to help out in the campaign.

  The Cuban exile community for reminding me daily of the value of liberty and freedom.

  As ever, I am grateful for the counsel, understanding and love of my wife, Jeanette, and our beautiful children, Amanda, Daniella, Anthony and Dominick, who tolerated yet another demand on their father’s time that distracted me from my favorite occupation, spending time in their company.

  And last but most important, I thank my Lord, Jesus Christ, whose willingness to suffer and die for my sins will allow me to enjoy eternal life.