Alvina Cardenas, mother, teacher, artist, and adventurer, died in Key West on February 11, 2025, at age 95. She was loved.

Mom was born in Chicago in 1929, as the country entered the Great Depression. She was the child of modest Lithuanian immigrants, immigrants who made this country great. Her father fought with American infantrymen in the trenches on the Western Front during World War 1.

For the first five years of her life, Mom spoke only Lithuanian. Despite initial resistance from her conservative parents, she became the first member of her family to attend college. Her mother believed that women belonged at home.

Alvie, as she would come to be known, often said that her world only really began when she met the love of her life, the rakishly handsome Bob Cardenas Sr., in front of the bronze lions at the Art Institute of Chicago. They married within months and honeymooned in Cuba in 1951. Dad’s family still owned property on the island. According to family lore, Mom and Dad conceived their first child, Bob Jr., on the beach at Varadero. 

After experiencing the warmth of Cuba, they could no longer tolerate the ice and snow of Chicago so they moved to South Florida to begin their lives together and continue building a family. I was born in Ft. Lauderdale in 1955, and our sister, Susan, arrived three years later. Cathy was born in 1964. Mom liked to say that Cathy was the caboose of the family train

Mom tolerated a menagerie in her Florida home, including dogs, cats, birds, snakes, and a troupe of monkeys. The critters kept her busy, but her focus was always on her children. She gave each of her wild, barefoot kids a long leash and somehow kept us reasonably healthy. Mom believed we needed to learn from our mistakes. I learned to never again drink insect poison I found in the work shed. My brother learned not to spill molten lead on his skin when he was making fishing sinkers. Mom was always there for us when we seriously screwed up. She could have found her way to the emergency room with her eyes closed.

Mom’s energy overflowed outside of the household. She became a passionate teacher in several South Florida schools, including one that her children attended (possibly so that she could keep a closer eye on her wayward brood). Mom taught English and Drama. She taught us to use our words, although when we used certain words, our mouths were washed out with soap. I can still taste that bar of Dial soap on the back of my tongue. Discipline was different then. 

There was never any shortage of drama as our family matured. One day, Mom and Dad made an announcement. They said, “We’re going to take all you kids out of school and sail around the world.” Each of us responded with a resounding YES!

They sold their possessions and bought a 43-foot sloop, a fixer-upper they named Free Spirit. Dad learned to navigate with a sextant, and Mom made sure that none of us fell into the ocean. We sailed 4,000 miles across the Atlantic.

For years, Mom talked about that trip and how it brought us closer together. She would get dreamy-eyed and say, “Do you remember those night watches near the Azores? The whales were so close to us that I could hear their tails slapping the water.” If only Mom’s Lithuanian parents could have seen her then…

As sometimes happens when dreams are larger than budgets, Mom and Dad ran out of money. Once Free Spirit made landfall in Spain, they returned to the United States to work while their children scattered into their individual lives.

Our sister, Cathy, died unexpectedly at age 34. Mom and Dad were empty nesters and relocated, finding peace in the mountains of North Carolina. Mom immersed herself in the arts. She built a small studio and installed a pottery kiln. She painted landscapes and portraits, interacting with the talented North Carolina arts community exhibiting in shows and galleries. She was also a grandparent now. One of her great joys was introducing this new generation of Florida kids to mountain country life. She raised goats and cultivated a garden. Mom became a master at crafting wildflower crowns for the little girls.

Mom and Dad returned to Florida because they missed the ocean. They lived in a condominium in Ft. Pierce where they could watch the Atlantic Ocean from the front windows and the Indian River from the back.

In his 70s, Dad joined a cadre of like-minded souls and sailed across the Pacific Ocean from Panama to Melanesia. Mom said, “I’m flying across the ocean this time.” She joined the boat in Vanuatu, and while in Tanna, our parents hiked to the fiery rim of the active volcano, Mount Yasur.

In their later travels, Mom and Dad sailed through the Mediterranean and Caribbean. They walked along the Great Wall of China. They rounded Cape Horn in a cruise ship. And, they were robbed of their passports in St.Petersburg, Russia—and then detained by the Russian government for a week because they didn’t have passports.

Time passed quickly. Mom and Dad aged gracefully. They spent the remainder of their lives in Key West with their children. Two years ago, Dad died. Our parents had been married for 71 years.

Mom, a widow in her mid-90s, relished the role of matriarch to an eclectic band of three children, eight grandchildren, and 12 great-grandchildren. She followed our adventures, cheered our successes, and commiserated with our sorrows.

A few days before Mom’s death, our parish priest came to her bedside and performed the sacrament Anointing of the Sick. Mom’s breathing was labored, and her eyes were closed. She was dying.

Later, with her family beside her, someone quietly said, “We are all here, Mom. We’re here to celebrate you.” Mom couldn’t speak, but she mouthed a question—”So where’s the Champagne?” 

Of course, we happened to have a bottle of Chandon on ice. My brother poured a teaspoon of it and lifted it to her lips. Mom smiled her beautiful smile one final time. 

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As always, sailing is not just about the wind and the sea; the places, the flora, fauna, and people encountered along the way are equally important.

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Let this be a time of grace and peace in our lives – Rev. John C. Baker