By Marisella Veiga –

Whenever a memo went out to parents calling for a meeting with the teachers and administrators of Our Lady of Lourdes Academy in South Miami, Florida, a phrase designed to help with our assimilation appeared at its bottom:

8:00 p.m. American time.

The reminder didn’t offend me at all. It confused me.

It certainly didn’t apply to my parents.  Though we are Cuban, we defy the stereotype. We never run on what our detractors call “Latin time.”

We are never late. Ever. Our family clock counters the popular notions about how Latinos manage time.

Blame my father Miguel. Much to my stepmother Carmen’s irritation, he is unfalteringly punctual. If a party starts at 8:00 p.m., Miguel is pushing the doorbell at exactly at that hour.

Only my stepmother Carmen is different. Unless it’s work or a doctor’s appointment, she’s comfortable with tardiness.

“It’s a party, we can be 15 minutes late!” Carmen says, rushing to shower.  She believes it’s alright.

Recently, my husband and I attended a performance, arriving just 20 minutes early, not bad. He had grumbled when we left the house so soon and grumbled again as we sat with fewer than 10 others in an auditorium for 300.

“It’s important to be on time,” I said, reading the program for a third time.

“On time, not this early,” he said.

That led us on a trip down memory lane.

One afternoon I left our house at 4:30 p.m. for a 6:45 p.m. appointment at a Northern Virginia hospital.  My anxiety had been heightened that day for two reasons: I’d be touring an operating room where I would have surgery, and I didn’t know how jammed the beltway would be.

I got there, parked and found a pay phone to call my husband. It was 5:05 p.m.  I ended up eating dinner at the hospital cafeteria and handwriting a long letter to a former boss. I made good use of the extra hour and 40 minutes. I’m always prepared.

Arriving ahead of time to doctors’ appointments occasionally results in my getting to see them earlier.  If they’re running on time (unusual) or late (often), I read their magazines.

On the job, I have frequently have been praised for my early arrivals.

A book I read on professional networking advises a person to get to meetings early. That’s when the movers and shakers are setting up.  Because of my tendency, I often find myself seated at tables with chapter presidents and guest speakers.

Once while living in Washington, D.C., I was invited to attend a Hispanic Heritage Month event at the White House. Of course I was nervous about being late and showed up more than an hour early. A guard misdirected me to a lengthy, deadly dull press briefing in the East Wing, where I was required to stay put.  I completely missed schmoozing with Emilio Estefan and singing “Cielito lindo” with the mariachis.

I continue to make social adjustments. Generally now, I arrive when the host or hostess has indicated, not a minute before.  My sister Glenna helped me with that one.  She’s furious when she came to the door, hair wet and toothbrush in hand.

“I’ll be ready at five o’clock like I said, not at 4:45,” she’ll snip.

And she will be. On the dot. She’s a victim of our father’s phobia, too.

Deep inside, I’d like to be someone who is consistently late.  I want to make an entrance, rushing in all harried and high on adrenaline, singing “Bésame mucho” and making excuses. Of course I’d be fabulously dressed.  I’m sure there would be a few insensitive remarks about my heritage, but I know I will be forgiven.

Listen to Latin-Time as recorded by Marisella Veiga, who was born in Havana and currently resides in Florida.

You can purchase a CD recording of her columns titled “Square Watermelons” from the Eclipse Recording Company.