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My earliest memories of holidays are from when I was about eight. We lived in Pennsylvania, and every year we'd visit Miami.

I represent central Florida, which depends on tourists for its economic survival. We need people to be able to get to the State and enjoy it.

My mom is from Texas, but I was raised in Florida.

I lived in Arizona, and I thought Florida was in California because I thought oranges came from the same place.

I was going to Miami quite a lot at the time, speaking a lot of Spanish with my friends from Cuba - Lana Del Rey reminded us of the glamour of the seaside. It sounded gorgeous coming off the tip of the tongue.

One hundred years before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, the Spanish government issued a decree authorizing the enslavement of the American Indian as in accord with the law of God and man.

Florida has its own rhythm, too. People go to work, they watch their children learn and grow and start families of their own. They play in the sun and pass their lives enjoying the outsized blessings that make our state unique.

I've brought the traditions from Spain to the United States: spending the afternoons with my husband and my son, enjoying the little things.

When I looked around, with my wife, Sarasota seemed like the best place in Florida. We settled about one mile from Siesta Key.

It doesn't matter how much I think I know about Florida, it still flips me on the head every time. It's just an absurd, eclectic place, and the stories that can come out of that place just never stop.