wrote this letter to my missionary son, Elder Aaron Joseph Puzey: Dear Elder Puzey, The first time I was in Argentina I flew in over the Andes Mountains from Chile. Heavy snows were still clinging to the upper elevations. Stark dry exposures were still without vegetation at the next lower level, and then gradually the hillsides began to lightly green up a bit. Nearly every stream and river was dammed at lower elevations as water began to flow in warmer temperatures. Below these levels, large open grasslands opened up. The area looked good for grain and cattle. Closer to Buenos Aires, the land flattened out considerably as well as becoming more lush and green. I remember thinking that this part of South America was beautiful and blessed with many attractive and bountiful resources. At the airport, I exchanged Chilean pesos for Argentinean pesos and caught a taxi into Buenos Aires. I was interested in and intrigued by water cisterns on many commercial and residential buildings. Apparently water pressure is more of a problem than electrical supply reliability, hence the cisterns, which fill at night when demand for water is lower. I learned that unlike most of its neighboring countries, Argentinas population descends overwhelmingly from Europeans; Spanish, Italian, Welsh, German, Formosan, French, Scandinavian, (especially Sweden) the United Kingdom, Ireland, and Eastern European nations, such as Poland, Russia, Ukraine and the Balkans region (especially Croatia and Serbia) and others. There are also Syrian, Lebanese, and other Middle Eastern immigrants that number about 500,000, mainly in urban areas. The Jewish community in Argentina is about 300,000, the largest in South America. Small numbers of people from East Asia have also settled in Argentina, mainly in Buenos Aires; Japanese, Koreans, Vietnamese and Chinese. The city was beautiful, reflecting European architectural style and an elegance of former days. After checking into the hotel, I well remember the first night, having dinner at Senor Tango, and enjoying a performance of the history and evolution of the tango in Argentina. I loved the music and dancing. Stringed instruments and small accordions were rhythmically played in a very passionate and soulful way. The food was commendable, but the dancing was remarkable. The next day I went out to see more of the city. I had lunch in Gran Café Orton, the oldest coffee shop in the whole country. The walls were lined with pictures of writers, intellectuals, politicians and artists, illustrative of a sophistication and tradition that would make anyone proud. I walked to Plaza de Mayo, Plaza Colon, and Puerto Madero. I was saddened by the omnipresent mindless graffiti of this generation. It was everywhere. I saw buskers, sunbathers, cyclists, runners, walkers, strollers, saunterers, and many others enjoying the beautiful September Spring day. Walking along the waterfront, I was impressed with a huge (possibly 10 diameter trunk) Wisteria vine, growing on a large old concrete trellis, just beginning to open in many brilliant lavender blossoms. It was a lovely witness to all that can be harsh, sordid, ugly, sad and otherwise difficult. I was so taken I wrote this poem: Trellis of stone, I cling to you. Sunlight of Spring, I bloom for you. Rain through the cobblestone, Water my roots. Wind from the sea, Blow dry leaves away. Young passerby, I am here for you. Look on me. Old passerby, I am here for you. Look on me. Roots deep, Leaves wide, Blossoms bright. I am Wisteria. Anyway, I am so happy you have arrived in Argentina. Give yourself to her. Serve the people. Love them. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy, seek after these things. I love you. Dad
Posted on: Thu, 30 Jan 2014 22:46:20 +0000