Hispanic Heritage Month Spotlight – Marvin Cordero
by Marvin Cordero, MPA – Associate Administrator, Communication & Outreach
“Over the last three decades, I have seen history made as Hispanic and Black leaders shaped Miami-Dade and Jackson Health System. That, in itself, makes me proud. Jackson will always be part of me and I will proudly continue to serve ad an ambassador in our community.”
By the time you read this, I will be retired. Thirteen days retired, to be exact.
After 34 years of service, I have seen – and lived through— some of the most impactful transformations that have shaped Jackson into the healthcare titan that it is today. Although I traded my employee badge for a fishing rod, my Jackson pride is something I’ll never trade – much like my Puerto Rican heritage.
I was born in Brooklyn, New York to Puerto Rican parents. They met in Brooklyn, married in Brooklyn, and had children in Brooklyn.
It was unique, to say the least. I remember a vibrant neighborhood, where fire escape balconies were dotted with Puerto Rican flags and salsa rhythms pulsated through the streets. The aroma of bacalaitos, crunchy cod fritters, and homemade arroz con pollo, a home-style chicken with rice, would entice even the most committed vegetarian, living blocks away.
But in 1975, my folks left the Big Apple and moved our family to sunny Miami for a more tranquil lifestyle.
Miami was much different back then: fewer people, fewer high-rises, and only pockets of minorities. It was then that I noticed that, to some, my unique Puerto Rican customs were seen as strange and foreign. For me, a teenager at that time trying to assimilate to the new city, this new reality was hard to understand.
We celebrated everything at the beach: birthdays, good grades, Wednesdays. My mother loved it. But for selfish reasons, I hated it. I was always tasked with carrying the large cooking pots and pans, the propane tank, and all the equipment for the mini Salsa band that would come to the beach to entertain us. Not surprisingly, after setting up the music equipment, the grill, the tent, the chairs, the towels, the coolers, and, of course, our treasured Puerto Rican flag, I would see a radius of white sand that separated us from the next family and their personal juke box and picnic basket. We, somehow, found a way to turn everything into a party – from births to funerals.
Unlike the festive beach parties, some of my family’s medical-inspired traditions would make any Jackson doctor quiver. Without an ounce of medical training, my mother believed she had a cure for everything – regardless of how complicated the illness. Most of the time it was just a combination of Vicks VapoRub and a blessing – sometimes not even a well-thought out blessing, just a quick boilerplate prayer that had nothing to do with healing. But the combination seemed to always work.
Her behavioral health remedies were even more fine-tuned.
In a public setting, a laser-like stare from my furious, yet always composed mother would be enough to put me in line. To this day, that stare still gives me chills. If the stare did not heal my tantrum or outburst, a pair of flying chancletas, or rubber flip flops, aimed directly to the back of my cranium would definitely do the trick. Thankfully, she never added Vicks VapoRub and a blessing to them.
Those traditions have stuck with my family. We still go to the beach from sunrise to sunset, and the occasional chancleta can be seen flying from time to time.
I attended American Senior High School, where I ran track and played baseball. It was that rooted passion for baseball that landed me a few professional tryouts and a scholarship to Delgado College in Louisiana. Back then, not many Hispanics were lucky enough, but I simply took it for what it was: an opportunity.
In 1982, I joined Jackson and never looked back. I have met a lot of great individuals who truly loved this place. I worked under five Jackson presidents. It was an honor to work with the first Hispanic Public Health Board of Trustees (PHT) chairman, Jose Cancela, former Jackson North Medical Center CEO, Sandy Sears, and the first African-American who served as Jackson’s president and CEO, Ira C. Clark.
Mr. Clark and I got along very well. We were both from Brooklyn, so we had that unspoken understanding. And, coincidentally, I was born in a hospital he used to work for before he came to Miami. He was relatable, down-to-earth, and humble.
Over the last three decades, I have seen history made as Hispanic and Black leaders shaped Miami-Dade County and Jackson Health System. That, in itself, makes me proud.
I was blessed with the opportunity to serve, and to raise my family under the Jackson umbrella. One of my daughters works at Jackson North Medical Center, my sister works at Jackson Rehabilitation Hospital, and my niece is a nurse at Jackson Memorial Hospital. Hopefully, they will have the opportunity to continue the tradition of life-long service to Jackson and Miami-Dade. Jackson will always be part of me, and I will proudly continue to serve as an ambassador in our community.
As we observe Hispanic Heritage Month, I’d like to leave you with just one simple thought: Diversity is a beautiful thing, both in our families and the work we do.