I suddenly have to go to Argentina in the next few weeks. I’ve never been to South America, don’t speak more than LA street Spanish and don’t have time for this trip. I really don’t want to go.
I’m going anyway.
My biological father and dear stepmother moved to Panama eight years ago, driven off their Missouri farm by the rising cost of healthcare. I met them for the first time when I was 28, and we’d had about six years of family time before they left. The house they bought once belonged to Noriega’s security chief. My stepmom says that even the bathroom ceiling is encased in marble!
Last year, they purchased a large vineyard in Mendoza, Argentina. I’ve seen pictures of a LOT of grapes. They put a local farm manager in charge and returned to Panama, planning to sell their home and retire as vintners…except the real estate market bottomed out and the farm manager almost ran the place into ruin. He cashed the checks but didn’t water the grapes. When my tall, tough Chicagoland father found out, he fired the guy – probably not in any uncertain terms.
Now the farm manager is causing trouble. Big trouble. So much trouble that even though it’s been five months since I got a call, two nights ago my stepmother left a frantic phone message. “You have to come to Argentina!” Of course, I feared the worst.
Turns out Argentine law says that if you have your property in a trust, you can be sued (by your errant farm manager) but the property cannot be confiscated. Did I mention I don’t want to go to Argentina? The literary agency I run is booming. I’m moving at the end of April. My precious daughter is going to college in August and I don’t want to lose one day with her as she hurtles toward adulthood. The flight is 19 hours just to get to Chile, then an 11 hour layover to board a 45 minute flight to take a 2 hour truck ride to the little village they love so much. I’m returning two days after we visit their abogado to sign the papers. No, the papers apparently can’t be sent via DHL, to my great chagrin.
This whole drama makes me philosophical. Amazing how one man’s mismanagement of some grapes in a country I’ve never seen is causing me enormous strife and inconvenience and unbelievable stress for my “parents”. Makes me think about the ripple effect of my own negative behaviors. How many times have I caused some unknown person enormous trouble? How many times have I been unaware or unkind and the ripple has moved through others’ lives?
What about that time I furiously passed some slow poke on the freeway? Yeah, there should be a law against going so slowly, but maybe the driver had something dreadful happen that day – their mother died or they lost their job or they had a fight with someone and just couldn’t focus.
How about when the elevator door was closing, my arms were too full and it shut as someone was running for it? Were they late to an important meeting and thus perhaps didn’t get the job or the deal. Had it cost them their livelihood?
What about the times I thought to do something for someone but couldn’t, or just didn’t? This Argentine experience is making me reflect on all the ways I could be a better member of society, unlike the lazy farm manager. What long reaching effect will my behaviors today have on others tomorrow?