My Dear Buenos Aires, when will I See You again? Carlos Gardel
My parents were assigned to Buenos Aires, Argentina. David was heading to Florida Southern College in Lakeland, Florida. I got caught up in the excitement of adventure with some anticipation. In late 1963, the family split up again, and this time I was going with my parents. We flew to Montevideo, to a South America missionary gathering at the exotic camp grounds in Punta Arenas. I met with other “misskids” while our parents discussed issues relating to the region and mission opportunities. Dad was appointed to an English speaking congregation which met at the historic Primera Iglesia Evangelica Metodista of Buenos Aires. At the time it provided services for the “expat” English speaking communities, including British and American. The sanctuary had been built in the mid-19th century in a neo-gothic style. It was the home of Argentine Methodism, brought by a Methodist layman, English captain. The Catholic church permitted foreign Protestants to meet and preach in their language. Once the ban was lifted, Methodism grew out towards the Argentine people.
Dad later told me that this Argentine sojourn of seven years was the highlight of his ministry. The church members, were intelligent, self-motivated. They were highly skilled executives appointed to represent their international companies in Argentina. Argentina had a healthy heavy industry, including American and European assembly plants that churned out Fords, Chevys, Renaults, and Peugeots. They even made the people’s car the two cylinder Citroen that bobbed up and down on the cobblestone streets.
We arrived at our new home on 640 Güiraldes Street in the Acassuso in the San Isidro District of Buenos Aires, outside of the Gen La Paz beltway. The house was a roomy duplex, with a long backyard, and a built in brick grill.
Argentina is famous for its cheap, range fed beef steaks and $0.50 a bottle red wines. I was assigned to cook the steaks at least three times a week. Life was good.
I started the second semester at the American Community “Lincoln” School on the shore of the Río de la Plata in La Lucila. I took the city train several stops south from the Acassuso station to La Lucila and walked to school.
I soon realized that I wasn’t the only new kid at school. I made friends quickly. Some of those friendships continue to this day, thanks to Facebook. I was in the later half of ninth grade. There were three influential teachers. I remember with great appreciation my teachers who guided and inspired me for the rest of my life. Donato “Profe” Laurita, the athletic director. Herminia Granito, girls athletic director, Joseph Czarnick, mathematics, Donald Hamond, political science and history, Walter Leibling, music and ensembles director, and Naum Mittelman, physics and chemistry.
I discovered that I had entered a wonderful, global world. The students, mostly Americans were savvy in global ways, having already lived in a number of places around the world before they arrived in Buenos Aires—quite a sophisticated group. I was most impressed and stimulated by hanging out with these folks.