Honking in Hialeah

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Awash in the Miami Heat’s championship victory I took my two eldest kids Jonathan and Elena late last night on a journey that introduced them to a longtime family tradition: honking like a maniac on the streets of Hialeah. 

My late father, an almost lifelong resident of Hialeah, a man who personifies the blue collar street-wise work ethic of the place, would have been proud.  We could have celebrated that championship anywhere else in town but when it happened, when LeBron got his ring, I knew that going back to Hialeah was the place that would connect me with Papi. He last celebrated a championship there in 2003, when the Florida Marlins beat the Yankees to take the World Series.  My only regret is that I never joined him. 

My kids were reluctant to drive with me to Hialeah but once they experienced the clanging pots and wild, spontaneous honking that enveloped the city for miles around, they were infected.  I couldn’t have been prouder for the Miami Heat and I couldn’t be happier to be in touch with my roots, right there on the streets of Hialeah.

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