As usual, getting to the appointment with the orthodontist on time was going to be a very close call. Choosing the method of transportation and the time to leave home was always somewhat of a gamble.
Sometimes they went on public transportation, which usually ran pretty much on schedule, but took a very long time and was a bit wearing. They had to walk several blocks to the station in Adrogué, take a train to the end of the line in Constitución, walk through the huge station to the subway, transfer to another line and then walk the rest of the way to the doctor’s office. It was located deep in the heart of the Capital, in the “Once” 22 neighborhood, part of Balvanera, one of the forty-eight legal divisions of Buenos Aires.
The other option was to drive, thus avoiding all the walking, crowds and clouds of cigarette smoke that billowed through the rail cars. However, it was not without drawbacks. They had to traverse the entire South Zone on the very busy Avenida Pavón until they reached the Riachuelo, the river that separates the Province from the Capital. The river had been spanned there by one bridge after another since the late eighteenth century. Several of them fell victim to flooding and one was purposefully set on fire to stop the British from crossing in 1806.23 The latest, from the 1930s, included a swing bridge to allow larger ships to pass. It was usually plain sailing, but if the bridge was up, they were in for a long wait and an impressive buildup of traffic.
Once across the river, there was a series of challenges to be faced apart from the breakneck speed and the lack of anything resembling lanes. Although today Buenos Aires has traffic lights on some 3,500 street corners, more than any other city in the Americas (even New York) or Europe, at that time they were just beginning to appear. The first one was installed in 1958. Most people thought they would never work and, in fact, they were removed for a time but eventually prevailed. Meanwhile, on busy intersections policemen wearing white elbow-to-wrist sleeve covers directed traffic, blowing shrill blasts on silver whistles from elevated platforms that were often protected overhead from sun and rain. Even so, tremendous bottlenecks could form, forcing motorists into exasperating stops and crawls.
Cars vied for space with black taxis with yellow roofs, buses and trucks. Although many commuters traveled by train and subway, the most common form of public transportation was the bus. Originally called a taxi colectivo,24 it was dreamed up in 1928 by eight enterprising taxi drivers over coffee at their favorite café. Because of the economic situation at that time, few could afford taxi fares. They decided to offer to take several passengers at the same time at a reduced rate. The route was down Avenida Rivadavia, from Primera Junta to Flores. At first people were skeptical but the idea soon caught on. Women’s initial reluctance was overcome by a clever marketing ploy: free rides for girlfriends and sisters. Regular taxis began by accommodating three passengers in back, one in front and two on the side seats. The vehicles evolved until the average colectivo had room for thirty-three seated passengers and the same number standing. Eventually there were 200 routes, distinguished from each other by the buses’ numbers and bright colors.
The streets of Buenos Aires were paved, some with asphalt but many with cobblestones.25 The process began in 1783 and the first cobbles came from Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay and Martín García, an island in the middle of the Río de la Plata. In the mid-nineteenth century, many stones came from Ireland and Wales as ballast in ships from Great Britain that went home loaded with grain. A whole industry grew up in the early twentieth century in the quarries of Tandil, in southeast Buenos Aires Province. The first skilled laborers were immigrants from Italy, followed by others from Spain and Yugoslavia. This age-old trade had at least fifteen specializations, including stonecutters, drillers, stone splitters and draymen. The average output was 250 cobbles per man per day, and the stones were transported to Buenos Aires by train.
Trams had run throughout Buenos Aires, first pulled by horses in the 1870s and later driven by electricity. At their height in 1950 there were sixty-seven lines, but they were gradually phased out in the mid-1960s. However, the rails remained and Ben, like many other drivers, grew quite adept at riding them at top speed, achieving a smooth ride in the midst of bumpy cobblestones.
The length of the trip in terms of time thus depended on the volume of traffic, the position of the drawbridge over the river and how many trains had to be waited for at the crossings. Nevertheless, Nelda preferred being late to going into the office alone. The orthodontist himself, nearing the end of his career, was not only an excellent professional but a sweetheart, exuding grandfatherly charm and benevolence. He was Dr. Ramón Torres, who had developed a very effective treatment for correcting misaligned teeth with removable braces. The front desk, run by his wife-cum-receptionist-cum-accountant, was another story: she was a veritable dragon. Although they had never seen her spout actual flames and smoke, her blistering remarks and stony expression terrified patients and parents alike. She was particularly fierce with any who were tardy or missed appointments.
Appointments with Dr. Torres were a fixture in the Bedford family for many years because, although David’s teeth were perfect, first Nelda and then Nancy required lengthy treatments. Eight years of faithfully paying orthodontic bills did not soften Mrs. Torres. She sounded grumpy and skeptical when Ben informed her that he needed to cancel Nancy’s next appointment because of a family health emergency. A couple of months later she grudgingly asked about the relative’s health. Ben told her that, unfortunately, she had passed away. Mrs. Torres gasped and her face became a mask of anguish.
“I am terrified of dying! I don’t sleep at night because I’m afraid I might not wake up.”
“I know someone who can help you not to fear death and a book that tells you why,” Ben told her.
“I’d like to read that book. Could you get me one?” she asked.
“I’ll bring it next time,” he promised.
At the following appointment, Ben gave her a New Testament and recommended that she start by reading the Gospel of John. He told her that he and La Nell would be glad to explain anything she did not understand.
“I’ll read it and call you when I want you to come,” said Mrs. Torres.
A few days later the phone rang.
“I have read the book and I’m very interested. When can you come?”
They arranged to go on Thursday afternoon when the office was closed. Mrs. Torres took them back to the apartment where she and her husband lived.
“Where is Dr. Torres?” they wanted to know.
“You just explain it to me and I will explain it to him,” she countered.
After they had answered all her questions and talked a while, they asked if she would like to attend a church service with them. They agreed on the next Sunday evening.
Ben talked to Dr. Tinao, pastor of the Once Baptist Church, the congregation nearest to the Torres’ home, so they were expected. Mrs. Torres was amazed at the warm greeting from so many persons who didn’t even know her.
“They are nicer to us than at our club!” she exclaimed.
They occupied a whole pew: La Nell at one end, followed by Mrs. Torres, Nelda, Nancy, Dr. Torres and Ben at the other end, so that the couple could not see each other when they sat down. At the end of his sermon, Dr. Tinao made an invitation, and both Dr. and Mrs. Torres raised a hand in a public profession of faith. They left the church armed with goodwill, offers of help and contact information.
When the Bedfords took them home, La Nell got out of the car to say goodbye. Mrs. Torres turned to her and, to everyone’s amazement, embraced her warmly.
“I’m at peace. For the first time in years, I can sleep!”
The dragon had been tamed.
Westward Ho!
Disgruntled muttering hovered in the air as the entire family, on hands and knees, cleaned and waxed the vast expanse of parquet floor. They had just finished this process in the house in Adrogué, leaving it spotless and ready for the new occupants to step in, although when they returned for the last few items that had not fit into the moving van they