My Life in Argentina and Beyond

I remember the rubies. I remember the 18 carat Gold jewelry that he used to give me in Argentina for my birthday. That and his kindness when I had a problem are some of my favorite parts of my memories of him. He was not a perfect man, but he was very strong, very tough. My father was a doer, someone who could get things done. When we came together to America, he had to unlearn many things. He was no longer the boss; now he was an employee, an older employee. I don’t think he minded it very much. Being in the United States had been his dream all along. He had time to listen. He cared.

When I was a little girl, he used to buy me 18 Kt. pieces of jewelry. The pieces were studded with rubies. I remember a beautiful small-faced watch from the late 50s and a cross with 3 rubies. Then there was a lovely gold and ruby ring. Once I asked him why and he said that he wanted me to have the best. He had gone through hardships in Europe and now things were going well for him; he wanted to celebrate his success. My father was anti-communist, and the rubies were bright red. The color must have had another meaning for him because he once bought me a thick velvet jacket. Red again.