By Way of Introduction

My Native American name, for certain, would have been "Naked Feet," had I been given one. To be sure, being barefoot in Oklahoma, while not an anomaly, is one whole helluva lot different than feeling the sand between your toes in Southern Florida where I spent much of my early life. And, I have to tell you that swimming in a lake or a pond with a red-dirt bottom is a far cry from diving off the boat into the once clear, warm waters of the Gulf Stream. Yes, I do miss it.

Now, I don't want to disillusion you right off the bat. I did not embark on this endeavor out of some altruistic need to glorify my past or those who came before me. Quite the opposite. As a matter of fact, there was much of that which I had been supressing for decades as the past can often be painful and the realities troubling. Actually, all of this began just before Thanksgiving of 2011, and it was born out of sheer boredom.

It was November 18, to be exact and I was sleepless in Oklahoma. There was little of interest on T.V. - imagine that - and I happened across a show on the Travel Channel called "The Dead Files." It was an appropriate show for a dreary, cold, late night and the episode was entitled, "Killed by the Klan." Noting that it took place in Key West, I quickly became engrossed. Shortly into the meat of the telecast, I was startled to realize that voices, long forgotten, from my past were creeping into my conciousness. "Creeping" is the operative word in all of this.

The story featured a pschic medium, Amy Allen, and her colleague, detective Steve Di Schiavi and a murder committed by the Ku Klux Klan in 1921 in Key West. As details unfolded about the events leading to the death of Manuel Cabeza, I began to recall the stories that I had heard whispered about by my Grandmother and Aunts throughout my growing up years. I sat watching, stunned, and driven to learn more.

Thus, I entered the realm of my ancestry. Little did I know where this would lead. Little did I know that I would begin a journey of research that has led me on an island hopping, far-reaching trek that might never end. One thing for certain, the mystery of those who came before me didn't end there. I can only hope that I can do this story justice.

Any endeavor such as this has its' pitfalls and stumbling blocks, and I have run aground on many occasion. I haven't solved the mystery yet, and I've unearthed a couple of others, as well. There are many, many people who have been working in this area for years, and who have done some phenomenal research and I applaud them. It is often tedious and frustrating work. However, the payoff is quite substantial as those who tell their stories and chronicle their heritage are genuinely documenting the true history of this country, and, indeed, the world.

As with any puzzle of this magnitude it is usually best to put the edges together first before tackling the big picture. Also, you always know, until it is complete, that there has to be a piece or two missing. But, when that last piece is found and put into place you have a masterpiece of which you can be proud.