1957: Changes

Painting by Juan Colle: Las sierras

January summer camps were held for the last time in El Quebracho (Valle de Calamuchita). For lack of a photo of the exact campsite, here is a representative oil painting by a good friend. I purchased it as a birthday gift to myself years ago and it hangs in our living room to remind me of the many happy memories of camp in the sierras. 

For several years, the missionaries had been searching to purchase a permanent campground. They rented sites that had no structures or buildings, which meant that tents and all the necessary equipment had to be set up each time. Margaret Marshall explained the ordeal in her January 13, 1957 letter to family:

Our camps have very little in the way of commodities, but the 75 young people, age 15 on up, who were there seemed to have a wonderful time. It's an awful lot of work getting ready for the camp, for we just rent a piece of ground and then everything has to be taken there and set up. there were 2 boys' tents, a girls' tent, kitchen tent, dining room & classroom tent and several individual family tents.

In November of that year, the mission finally purchased the perfect campground, which is now well equipped with permanent facilities—Campamento Cerro San Lorenzo.  

Margaret Marshall and boys: David, Peter, Michael

The Marshall family lived at the mission headquarters in Río Cuarto. Most hospitality responsibilities fell on them. Before each camp session people began to arrive at different times from various towns to await departure by truck to the campsite. Early arrivals required overnight accommodation and meals. And when they returned from their week in the sierras, they lingered there till time for their return trip home. As I read Margaret's letters I realized how very much work she did, willingly yet sacrificially.

I was surprised to learn from her weekly correspondence that my mother had accompanied five campers to the children's camp session, January 19-24.

About 8:30 [Thursday the 18th] the train came in from Buenos Aires, bringing Kathryn Hoyt and five children with her, and Don Bishop with four youngsters from Corrales, so I served them and got them placed for the night while Jim had prayer meeting. They were planning to leave at 8:00 Friday morning, but arrangements hadn't been made for getting a big enough truck to take them, so it was about 10:00 before they all got away.

I wrote to my best friend Mirtha soon after camp to tell her all about our travels. Our car load, with Mr. Schrock driving, had left camp right after the last evening meeting around the camp fire, el fogón, always a special time of sharing. On the road to Río Cuarto we got lost once, and stopped to help another car in our group that had carburetor trouble. We finally arrived at headquarters at 2 a.m., some of us feeling sick. We got up at 7:30 a.m. to catch the 9 o'clock train. Daddy and Devesas were waiting for us at the central train station in Buenos Aires. That tells me that my friend Mabel Devesa went to camp with us.

Next I told Mirtha about the big change about to affect our family: "After a series of problems, we finally have the house and can move in whenever we want."

Some months earlier the owners of Maconaghys' and Hoyts' rentals said they needed their houses. The mission began the process of purchasing a residence for each of these missionary units. Our family moved to Chiclana 1074, a few blocks away from the first home and closer to the newly built Templo, the church building. Google Maps' latest photo, taken a year ago, reveals architectural changes, damages and much deterioration to the home we lovingly remember. 

Chiclana 1074, July 2021

Across the street lived the Clausens, a lovely Danish family who became our good friends. They belonged to another congregation in a neighboring town and hosted a Good News Club in their garage every Thursday afternoon. My friends and I attended regularly. I mentioned this in my early correspondence with Mirtha. 

Every Thursday afternoon at six o'clock, there is a Good News Club. . . The teacher's name is Carlos and I don't know how to spell his last name. Well, last Thursday we divided into two groups. One of girls, and another of boys. We voted and I became captain of the girls' team and had two secretaries. We voted again and the boys' captain was a boy called Eduardo Clausen. Carlos, our teacher, gave us some homework for this Thursday, to write an essay about Naaman's servant girl. He gave us three questions we had to answer: Who was the girl? What did she do? What does she teach us? I finished the assignment and will take it today. 

It is an interesting experience to look back at one's own reflections as a child. I was only ten-years-old at the time of that writing. Other surprises came as I continued to read those old letters. At age twelve I first heard a rumored version of  "Where do babies come from?"

Dora is a girl my age, after you she is one of my best friends . . . she also passed into first year of secondary school like me . . .  

About those secrets: she was told them when she was in fourth grade, but she didn't take it as a laughing matter or something dirty but rather asked her mother who told her that children are asked of God. Dora still doubted . . . then one day she shared these doubts with me. I didn't know anything about anything and at first was horrified but then I said her mother was right . . . because I remembered how my mother and father prayed before Aldo and Lynn were born . . . But I couldn't get the thought out of my head so I asked Mother, "Isn't it right, Mom, that the only thing you have to do to have a baby is to pray?" She said, "No, dear." After that day, I experienced the same unrest that Dorita had, but only for a day because I said to myself: "If it were something bad my mom and dad would not do it and God would not have arranged it that way." 

We decided to consult the matter with Mirtha, two years older than us. Grateful for her eagerly-awaited response, we then composed a thank you letter together. Here it is in Dorita's handwriting.

Don Bosco, December 30, 1956

Dear Mirtha:

With great happiness we answer the lines you wrote us (or, better said, the pages you wrote us). We are so grateful because you have satisfied our need "to know." We no longer think of it as something bad, although we realized before that our parents would not do something bad, and we thank you for the advice you gave us when you told us we ought not drink from "impure sources" which we will do no longer.

We trust that when these lines reach you they find you and your family doing very well. I, Dora, hope my desire to meet you comes to pass, and may it be soon.

With no more, we say goodbye with much love, your friends, . . .  

How times have changed! With no television or internet, the age of innocence lasted longer. 

Radio was everywhere, however, so it was increasingly used to spread the message of the Gospel.

The Gospel is entering hundreds of homes several times a week—homes which otherwise would likely never be reached. Many thousands of radios are now located in homes, cars, hotels, restaurants and buses throughout Argentina. In the cities, towns, and rural areas people listen to the radio. Television has not yet taken over in Argentina. We are still in the day of radio here. And now is the time to use this method of evangelism. (The Brethren Missionary Herald, 12.07.57)

Another article by Lynn Schrock, the one in charge of the radio ministry:

Lynn Schrock in recording studio

"How many here tonight were converted through the radio ministry?" This was the question I asked the folks who attended the Sunday evening service in our General Conference held in Río Cuarto in March of 1957. About half a dozen folks there that night raised their hands. The Gospel had reached these folks in their homes because we're on the air in Argentina. . .

 It was on Saturday, June 11, 1955, that The Brethren Church had its first radio program in Argentina. At 3:45 p.m. the broadcast of the "Open Bible" went on the air. This name was chosen because the Bible is a closed book for the "religiosos" of Argentina. For that reason they are so far from the truth and from salvation. (The Brethren Missionary Herald, 2.01.58)

That first program was broadcast from a three and a half kilowatt station in Río Cuarto. Not long after, another broadcast was added for the general public, and one for children, "La Tía Sara" (Aunt Sarah) with stories and music by children from our Mission.

This reminded me of another excerpt from my correspondence with Mirtha where I mentioned the radio gang. Referring to the above mentioned friend Dora, I wrote, "She also belongs to the radio gang and whenever we ride on the bus or the train, she sits with me and we talk about so many things."  

Memories surfaced of those trips with Carlos Maccio, our teacher, to downtown Buenos Aires to a radio station where we recorded skits and music. One time I sang Psalm 103. I could still sing remember many years, but now the melody is gone. Neither can I recall who all participated in the radio gang, probably the faithful members of the children's Bible club. I do know that we got back home quite late from those outings. What radio station aired these programs is also a long-forgotten mystery, but probably had something to do with LAPEN, the Argentine branch of Child Evangelism.

The biggest change for us that year was about to come. After five years, it was time for our year-long furlough in the US.

Nélida Zannetti

In April, Nélida Zannetti, a Bible Institute graduate, was assigned to come to Don Bosco to look after the work there. She was my roommate for a couple months. Later on, she was joined by another young lady, Mirtha's sister, Eunice Siccardi.

A few years ago, I wrote the story of a memorable birthday that year.

Thirteenth Birthday Party—May, 1957

"Why don't you go put on your new clothes?" Mother said.

"What for?" I thought, but I dutifully went upstairs to my room and got out the pleated skirt and matching sweater set.

We had made several trips to Quilmes, by bus or train; walked the length of the long shopping district; searched in numerous fabric shops for my whimsical color choice--pink and gray. Mother would not give up until she had found the perfect plaid combination. How I loved that wool skirt! It was light and soft and the colors pleased me. I wore it for many years, carefully applying imperceptible patches to areas that had become threadbare.

But why now, nothing special going on, why should I wear my best clothes?

Then the doorbell rang and my friends began to arrive. "¡Feliz cumpleaños!" they sang.

Mother knew how much I had missed my friends from elementary school years. They had all started back to school in March, each following a different track. Delia had decided to go the secretarial route and was attending the Escuela Comercial. Others preparing for university chose the Escuela Nacional. I had not made up my mind yet because in a couple months we were returning to the US for a year, in time for fall classes in America.

Mother was getting out the food she had prepared. I could smell the bologna salad sandwiches. My friends loved these. She also knew how to make homemade marshmallows because at the time they were not yet available in Argentina. And my favorite birthday cake--the Never Fail Chocolate Cake with Seven Minute white frosting.

We played games, but mostly talked. I wanted to hear about their secondary school experience so far. They used public transportation to travel to their schools in Quilmes, the city twelve or fifteen minutes away by bus or train. Some went in the morning, others in the afternoon, and there was a night session also. Thus the same school building could accommodate three different programs with totally different administration and teachers. Obviously the structures were simpler and the systems less complex than in the US. I was soon to find that out for myself. 

The event served also as a going-away party. A year is a long time to be away from close friends. Already I missed them and knew I would never be able to catch up with them in school.

But for now, this was such a thoughtful surprise my Mother had prepared. We did not usually have birthday parties with our friends. Though the details have faded, Mother's loving efforts to make that day special remain a sweet memory.

In July we flew to the US. Come back next time for that story.  

Old Friendships

 

General José de San Martín

I was pleasantly surprised recently to see a photo of this mural painted by Amalia Rossetti forty years ago. The Rossettis were dear friends from our time in La Carlota. Amalia, the youngest, was a toddler when our family left there.

Reconnecting with old friends and making new ones has been one of the joys of sharing my life stories in blog format. I research to remember and make sense of long ago happenings, locate old friends, learn more about them and uncover interesting stories. 

Amalia was married and had a nine-year-old daughter when she became an art student at the Lino Enea Spilimbergo School of Applied Arts, a branch of Córdoba's State University. At the time, she lived with her husband and daughter in Tancacha, and traveled 10 miles away to attend classes in Río Tercero. Not long after beginning this new adventure in life, she discovered she was pregnant again. It was then that an opportunity arose that she could not pass up. Her daughter's school wanted a mural of the national hero. It had been a dream of hers to recreate the mural she had so admired in the school where she grew up. 

So the town provided the materials, and Amalia even mixed some of her own paints with oxides and pigments to save money. Then, already six months pregnant, she painstakingly labored over this commemorative mural of the Liberator of Argentina, Chile and Peru. Amazingly, she had to complete the masterpiece in four days! The university would not allow her to miss any more classes. She was able to finish the work just in time for the August 17 holiday, the anniversary of General San Martín's death! 

Amalia graduated after four years with a Masters in Visual Arts and taught in an elementary school for eighteen years. She recalls the mural-painting experience as one of the highlights of her art journey.

The town of Tancacha still remembers her contribution gratefully.

We stayed in touch with several generations of the family. Their faith journey with us in La Carlota, actually started before that in another town.

My father wrote the story of that first encounter for The Brethren Missionary Herald (2.07.1948).

About eight months ago at 10 o'clock in the morning two unknown ladies came to our door. One was a tall, thin elderly lady and the other, smaller and about 35 years old. After a few moments' conversation we learned that they were mother and daughter. . . The mother had been saved in Huinca not so long before, and had made a special trip to witness to her daughter in La Carlota. Not feeling too capable to explain the Gospel just yet, she brought her daughter to our home. There, for some minutes, we listened to the daughter make her defense (for she did most of the talking). After she seemed satisfied with her presentation of worthiness, we said a few words explaining the Gospel and invited her to our meetings.

Only one month later, the 35-year-old daughter and her whole family of four children obeyed the voice of Christ pleading. "Come unto me . . . and I will give you rest."

In her own words Rosa Rossetti, the daughter, tells her story:

    Before being saved, I used to think that God wasn't just, when some difficulty, offense, or heartache came into my life. Full of doubt with respect to God, I said: "What have I done to merit this punishment? Where is God?" I though of God only to make Him responsible for my misfortunes, not realizing that I was the guilty one.

I tried to be a good wife and a better mother, and in part I fulfilled my desires. But I was not happy. If I thought of death, an indescribable terror laid hold of me. At times I thought of God, and saw myself as guilty, and then I asked myself, "Where will I go when the hour of death arrives for me" Can God forgive my sins?" I tried in every way to justify myself, and convince myself  that they would be forgiven, but my heart always condemned me.    

One day my mother paid me a visit. She brought a letter from her pastor, for the pastor of La Carlota. With much fear she invited me to accompany her to the pastor's house to deliver the letter. I accepted joyfully, and we went. Mrs. Hoyt answered our knock at the door. We asked if she were the pastor's wife, and she said she was. My mother gave her the letter and she invited us in.

When she called her husband, who was in his study, I remember how he came hurriedly downstairs and kindly invited us to sit down. He asked  us many questions, and upon learning that I lived in this town, asked if they couldn't visit us. I gave consent outwardly, but inside I thought it would be better if they were not to come because I was ashamed of my old ugly house, which was always topsy-turvy because of the children. But on the other hand, I was happy to say "yes," because they were a kind couple.

A few days later—I remember it was a Sunday afternoon, as I was ironing—they arrived. I was unpresentable as well as my house, but I invited them in. In the course of the conversation Mr. Hoyt invited me to the meetings. I offered several excuses at first, but ended up by promising that I would go. A few days later I went, and have been going ever since.

One Sunday night, after the message I made a public confession of faith in Christ. Since then I realize that God is not unjust, but I, who spoke lightly of Him whom I knew not. Now I ask myself, "What did I do that God should choose to save me from among the thousands of lost ones?" My life has made a complete change. I am happy, I'm not ashamed of my house, just thankful to have it and offer it to Christ, as one day I gave Him my life.

Early family photo in La Carlota

Dad's article continued,

Rosita immediately had a desire to know all about the Word of God and to see others saved. Nor shall I forget the times she has spoken a word to the one beside her as the invitation was given. This desire for the salvation of souls is especially keen in relation to her relatives.

She wrote to her sister-in-law and received the following answer.

San Justo, Argentina
August 13, 1947

Dear Sister-in-Law and the Rest of the Family:

It is our desire that upon receiving this letter you will all be enjoying good health. We are all well, thanks to God . . . 

Well, Rosita, I received the package with the Bible and I thank you very much. Now I am going to tell you the truth. Our opinions are very different in respect to religion. See here, Rosita, we were brought up practicing the same religion—that which exists in our whole family, and for us there is no other religion than that which our fathers taught us to love and to respect since we were small. For us there is only one God and one church and that is the Catholic.

You were telling me that all they say in the Catholic church is a lie. It may be, but we could say the same about the Evangelical Church couldn't we? I do not want to argue about anything in the Evangelical Church. It may be very good, but for me there is only one religion, Rosita, and it is the Catholic. With that religion I was brought up. I have defended it, and I expect to follow it all my life For me there is no other religion, nor do I want my children to have another. I do not know what you will think but neither I nor Felix are willing to change religions. We are baptized. We have taken communion. We have married and we have our little daughter baptized and confirmed in the Catholic Church. Why should we change our religion now to be Evangelicals, which is a religion contrary to what we have practiced all our life.

No, Rosita, I am sorry that I must tell you we do not share your opinion. My husband says it is difficult for him to believe that you, above all others of the family, have made this decision.

I spoke to your brother, José, and he does not share your ideas either. He is a Catholic and doesn't care to know anything of the Evangelicals. He does right in defending his religion. Therefore we do the same. Do not take offense at what I have said. Everyone has his own ideas and I believe that is the only true liberty  we have in this life. If we could converse about these things we would have many points to touch, but it is better to put it to one side.

Furthermore, I will tell you that it has always been my great ambition to send Betty to the school of nuns where they practice the true Catholic religion. If God will, next year I shall be able to do it. 

With nothing more to say, and hoping that I have not offended you, I send you best wishes and kisses.

Anita 

Rosita responded immediately, assuring Anita that she was not angry or offended, only sorrowful and sad about their unwillingness to read the Bible and learn the truth.

I do not want to insist. I shall only add that if it is the purpose of God to save you by means of the Gospel, although you resist, He will save you. . .

Furthermore, I am not the only one who has understood that the religion of their fathers was not the best. Don't be so surprised, Felix, because father and mother were the first to understand. Odilia has also been convinced of the truth of the Gospel. . . 

The thirty-first of this month each of us who is studying in the Bible Institute here in Carlota will have a little part in the evening program. There will be three talks—one treating our state in sin, another, life eternal, and the last, the means of obtaining this eternal life or salvation by grace. The last topic is wonderful and will be my part. I am very happy. Perhaps I shall send you what I am going to say . . . 

Fifteen-year-old Odel added a note at the end urging his aunt and uncle to attend.

I also am baptized and confirmed in the Catholic Church, but I went to the Evangelical meetings just the same. You can do as I and you're not going to lose anything. To the contrary, you are going to gain. It will make you think very much.

Tragically, Felix died not long after in an explosion at work and his thirteen-year-old daughter also. She had just stopped by to bring him some refreshment, a mate (an Argentine beverage, like green tea). Such a deep, heavy loss for Anita who was left with a one-year-old daughter. She was a good woman. Only God, who sees the hearts, knows how she responded to the peace and comfort He offered her.

Rosita, or doña Rosa, was baptized in 1948 during the annual conference in Río Cuarto.

On the back of the photo:

Memory of the conference in Río Cuarto and of the day we passed through the waters of baptism, thus identifying with our Lord Jesus Christ.

February 10, 1948

When Amalia was only four, the family moved to Buenos Aires to join her grandparents. Once again our families were relatively close. She writes about visits to our home in Don Bosco. I referred to one of those times in the chapter titled 1954.

I have such happy memoreis of your family when you were in Don Bosco. Mom and I would go to your house because my mother used to sew and mend for your mother and I played with Lynn and Aldo, Pick-up-sticks I loved and many others I can't remember. And your mother made that delicious salad (seems I can still taste it) with lettuce, banana, sour cubed apples and that dressing, not make of mayonnaise but sweetened condensed milk, vinager and oil, so delicious! 

My brother Lynn in his hand-written memories, made mention of these friends. 

 Old Friendships

Because so many of our original friends in Buenos Aires had roots in the interior, we retained close ties with the interior people, so we had opportunities to visit in some of their homes.

One of those families who were especially dear to us as a family were the Anselmino/Rossetti/Tognoli family. The old folks, the Anselminos were the patriarchs of the family.

They all lived on another branch of the train line, which went through other towns and ended up at the same destination, La Plata. Early on Dad started a Bible study in their home. I often went with him, possibly because I was too much of a handful for Mother. We had to take the train to Plaza Constitución then come back on the other line, then take a bus to a destination about two blocks away from their home. I always enjoyed the visits there. 

They had a quaint living arrangement. The old folks lived in a little house in the middle of the lot, the Tognolis in the house at the back of the lot, and the Rossettis in the front of the lot. We had the Bible study at the Anselminos, as both Mr. Rosetti and Mr. Tognoli were not very interested in it. I usually played with the Rossetti's very young daughter, Amalia, who was about my age. Her brothers and sister were much older, in fact her sister had been my baby sitter in La Carlota where we lived the first two years of my life.

The Anselminos kept a vegetable garden which occupied every inch of the lot with the exception of the 18inch walkway which connected the living quarters.

My recollection of the trips over there were that they were long, the equipment was totally worn out, and there were at least three times as many people on the bus as would fit even with the least of comfort. The busses in those days were not only crowded, but, now that I know something about mechanics, I realize they would not even begin to pass a safety inspection; the clutch was worn to where there was almost no friction surface left, and the exhaust system was probably non existent.

My parents were privileged to attend Humberto and Dominga Anselmino's 50th wedding anniversary celebration, March 17, 1960, where several generations were present. 

A beautiful goal in life is to pass on the truth of the Gospel to the next generations. "We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might, and the wonders that he has done (Psalm 78:4)."