Dear William (and Daniel, Catherine, Michael & Baby Girl Y) (and your parents), (and any future descendants and their parents),

This morning I am ecstatic and despondent at the same time — I have been struggling all morning with picking a topic to tell you about, and during that process, I thought that I should tell you about my house in Ramos Mejia, Argentina. My problem, however, is that I have been looking for my house on maps for more than a year now, and I could not find it. Doing further research this morning, I think that I MAY have located the place, and HORROR — they built a highway right through the middle of it!?

I say that I MAY have located my house, because I am not sure if this is the place; but, let’s look at the evidence.

Our house was on a dirt street, very close to a very big research institute. At the entrance to the research institute there was a small field where I played soccer. Further away from my house, on the other side of the street from the soccer field was the bus stop where we would take the bus to the train station in Ramos Mejia. The street from my house to Ramos Mejia was paved, but did not have any sewers; so when it rained, a river would form (once, I remember that the rain was so heavy that I had to swim home from school). That street went on an angle from my house; and it was walking distance (a very long walk) to the train station.

On the map above, my house would have been where the red marker is on the upper left quadrant of the map, next to the “Hospital Nacional Alejandro Posadas;” and the Ramos Mejia train station is close to the bottom right corner, where it says “Ramos Mejia Sex”. The paved street I described would be on this map: “3 de Febrero”. The bus stop would have been at the intersection of “3 de Febrero” and “Rivera Indarte.” The soccer field was just north of the bus stop (going towards the top of the page, about a quarter of an inch), right where the highway passes now.

Now for the photographic evidence.

Well, now you have seen several pictures of the Hawlena family and you may be wondering who are they — Renee was married to Stefan Hawlena. They had three sons, Fred, Marc & Stefan. They lived in Buenos Aires, but later Mr. & Mrs. Hawlena split-up; he was an attorney in Buenos Aires; and she moved (circa 1957 — William, “circa” means around) to Westport, Connecticut with her three sons. I believe that Fred became a truck driver; Mark became a jeweler and moved to Canada; and Stefan became a pediatrician and moved to Belgium. We have lost contact with all of them.

Anyway, back to my story —

On the feast of Saints Peter and Paul (June 29), there would be a huge bonfire in the middle of the street, between our house and the research institute (my Imieniny were a very big deal in Argentina; I always felt so special — everyone would come out to see the bonfire, and celebrate MY Imieniny). Every spring, great swarms of butterflies would fly down our street, and I used to swat a branch with leaves to gather hundreds of them for my collection.

We often played on the street, however, my Mom would bring us into the courtyard whenever a pack of wild dogs or a heard of cattle would come by (that was not very often; but I do remember several occasions). I used to make kites, and fly them in front of our house.

Hey, William, this is how I made a kite: take a rod of dried out bamboo; stomp on it to split it into long sticks (a rod of bamboo would generally make two or three sticks); take a large page of newspaper; break the bamboo sticks to fit over the newspaper (tie the two sticks in a cross with string); tie a long string to the top of the cross, and run it diagonally to the left arm, tie it securely to the end of the left arm and then continue diagonally to the bottom of the cross, again tie it securely, and now run it diagonally to the end of the right arm; again tie it securely, and run the string to the beginning, the top of the cross, and tie it securely; then, lay the cross over the flattened newspaper page. Now, fold the newspaper over the diagonal strings. Get some flower from your Mom, add water to make glue. Glue the folded newspaper over the string, and let it drie. Find an old rag, about one or two inches wide, and about three feet long — tie it to the bottom of the cross; this will be the tail for the kite. Now turn the kite so that the cross is under the newspaper; and get a piece of string, long enough to reach from the end of the left arm of the cross, to the end of the right arm of the cross, plus several inches of slack; tie the two ends to the right and left arms of the cross. Get another piece of string and tie it to the top of the cross, and the other end of the string, tie it to the middle of the string that is running between the right and left arms of the cross. Now you need a spool of string which you attach to the intersection of the strings that run between the right and left arms, and the top of the cross. Now you have a kite.

Now, get a sibling (if you do not have one, get a friend or anybody else) to hold up the kite as high as they can — tell them to let go once you start running. Figure out which way the wind is blowing, unroll you spool of string so that you are about twenty feet from the person holding up the kite; and then run as fast as you can into the wind. The kite should quickly rise to the heaven, and now you slowly stop and start letting more string out, so that the kite rises higher and higher. Just be careful that you do not hit any power lines, and any low flying airplanes. If you hit a bird, you get extra points; but I never did that.

When your Mom starts calling to come back home (or when you are tired of playing with your kite), start drawing the string in by rolling up your spool of string — do this carefully, so that you do not tangle up the string; and be careful not to crash the kite, especially into a neighbors back yard.

If the kite does not fly as you expected, you may have to make adjustments — either the tail is too heavy (to fix that, shorten the tail) and the kite does not want to rise up; or the tail is too short, and the kite spins in the air uncontrollably (to fix that, add another length of tail, or tie on a small rock to the end of the tail). If you crash the kite, it will probable get ripped; so you will have to start at the beginning — this time, incorporating your experience from you previous attempt.

Anyway, back to my story …

The floor of our front-porch was tiled — once, my Mom was washing the front porch, and we were using the slick wet floor as a sliding ramp. I went too fast, and crashed into the wall — I broke my collar-bone!!!

The door to the front-porch connected to my Parents’ bedroom / our living room / formal dining room.

The large window in the front of the house was to my Sisters’ room — we used to open that window wide, and perform plays on the window sill (it must have been wide, but I do not remember any more); all the neighborhood kids would come and sit in front of our house and watch our show.

In the back of the house, we had a deep yard. My Mom plated a hedge halfway back, creating two back yards. The far back-yard was our jungle, where we used to build houses; build swimming pools (mud holes) and conduct all kinds of mischief. The front back-yard (closest to the kitchen), was for proper activities — but that rule got broken from time to time.

Let me tell you about our kitchen window — it was a death trap for flies and other insects. In the summer, it was made of a double fine-wire-mesh screen; which had holes in it. So, flies and bees would fly in through the holes in the screen, but then they could not find the holes to fly out. By the end of the summer, there must have been thousands of dead insects between the two screens (cleaning them out must have been a very disgusting task for my Mom).

Under that kitchen window, you can see a sink — that is where my Mom would wash our clothes using a scrubbing-board.

To the left of the sink was a wall, wich had a very big window — that was the window to my and Tom’s room. I remember, once, I was outside and Tom was inside. I started annoying Tom, and he threw a wooden block at me; which shattered the window — I got into trouble with my Mom for “provoking” him; William, tell me, don’t you think this was unfair!

In the front back-yard we had an evergreen tree, which, one year, my Mom dressed up as a Christmas Tree (remember, in Argentina, Christmas is in the Summer). Well, a storm came by, and all the glass bulbs came crashing to the ground; there was colored glass everywhere. I still do not know how she did it; but, my Mom collected all the broken colored glass, and made several kaleidoscopes out of it — now, THAT was MAGIC!

We also had a tall tree in the front back-yard, which I would climb to the very top — you could see for ever! Then, the tree-top would start to bend with my weight, and I had to get back down before I fell (fortunately, that never happened). Another tree we had was a lemon tree — but we generally stayed away from it because it had sharp thorns; and bees lived in that tree.

In the rear back-yard, we would build forts and houses out of branches. Once, we even built a two-story house.

The neighbor behind us had a chicken coop, and a cherry tree next to it — we would climb the chicken coop, and pick cherries from the tree.

The neighbor to the left of our rear back-yard had a very big fig tree — during periods of peace or truce, we would climb over to their back yard and get figs from their tree; unfortunately, however, that would not be very often, as we (the kids) were in a constant state of failed peaceful coexistence with their kids.

One of my cats died once, and we buried it in the rear back-yard. The next year, I went digging for its skeleton, but I could not find it — I think that another animal got to it before me.

Talking of dead animals, that reminds me of the time that a horse died next to our soccer field. As I remember it, we were playing soccer, when I noticed a horse-drawn cart came to a stop in front of a pharmacy across the street from the soccer field. Some man was yelling at the horse; and then the horse sat down (and apparently died). The man unhitched the cart, and later came back with another horse and took the cart away — the horse stayed there, dead. Well, that afternoon we had a great time climbing the dead horse and sliding off its body; but the next day, it started to smell. By the time somebody took the horse away, a few days later, it really smelled bad!

As to the soccer field; I will have you know, William, by the time that I left to come to the United States, I was the best player of the field; and I was only ten years old, and I was better than the kids who were sixteen years old (now, that I think about it, they must have liked me and just let me think how great I was; but, at the time, I believed it, and it made me feel good!).

I think that I will stop now; but, William, remember: have fun; but be responsible.

p.s. Before I forget, here is a list of all the places where I resided:

1. 1/49 to 5/49: Devoto, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
2. 5/49 to 5/50: Triunvirato 917, Haedo, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
3. 5/50 to 6/59: Bompland 846, Ramos Mejia, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
4. 6/59 to 5/64: 105-25 67 Ave., Apt. 5-E, Forest Hills, NY 11375.
5. 5/64 to 6/72: 105-20 66 Rd., Apt. 1-D, Forest Hills, NY 11375.
6. 6/72 to 8/75: 630 Humboldt St., Greenpoint, Brooklyn, NY 11222.
7. 8/75 to 9/79: 722 Carleton Rd., Westfield, NJ 07090.
8. 9/79 to present: 304 Wells St., Westfield, NJ 07090.

Love,

Dziadziuś Paweł.

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