Dear Reader,
The Argentine Club that sets the stage for much of this book became a catalyst, a sort of time machine for me to take a trip back to my own childhood. I have vague memories of my family attending “the Argentine club.” We didn’t go often, because my mother didn’t like going. She shared with me recently that the women sat around gossiping most of the time, or trying to one-up each other. My mother didn’t find a sisterhood, but rather, as she says, a bunch of silly women she’d rather avoid.
My father, however, must have felt a different type of connection. He enjoyed being around other Argentines. He wanted to be reminded of his birth country, which he missed as if he’d left behind part of his soul. I remember many Friday evenings when he would go to the club to play cards, then return Saturday morning while my mother was cleaning the house and my brother and I were watching morning cartoons. If he won money (because they played for money), he’d walk in and toss twenty-dollar bills into the air and watch them rain down on us. My brother and I would excitedly pick up the bills as if they were candy that had spilled from a piñata. We were usually allowed to keep one each. If he lost, he walked in quietly, sat at the kitchen table, and talked to my mother about his night.
I wanted to share with you that “the club” was a part of my life; however, it wasn’t the central part, as it is for my characters. The club in the story comes from my imagination. Bits and pieces that I remember combined with, perhaps, wishful thinking. For instance, children didn’t learn Spanish or have a school at the club—I wish we had. We ran wild around and between the tables set up in the main and only hall.
I don’t know the exact history of the club, but I do know that it disbanded eventually. Today there exists an Argentine Association of LA in Burbank, which holds weekly dinner shows. I took my mother to a dinner event when I was doing research for this book. I thought she’d enjoy it. Good food, tangos, and jokes that went way over my head but she found funny because she connected with Argentine humor. We had a nice night out together, and she indulged me as I drove around Burbank taking pictures. Since I grew up in the San Fernando Valley of California, and I know there actually are large concentrations of Argentines in that area, I knew I wanted this to be the setting for my story. But I do want to make it clear that my fictional club is not intended to resemble what exists today.
As a child, like Eric in my story I didn’t see the point in getting together with a bunch of strangers only because they happened to have been born in the same country as my parents. I didn’t “get” my father. I’m happy to say that today I do. I don’t belong to an Argentine club, but I
am
a member of a number of Latina organizations. And I’m passionate about writing stories with Latino characters.
I think the beautiful multicultural fabric of our country makes us such an amazingly wonderful and strong nation. I’m glad that we have groups that keep bits of foreign cultures alive. I love Cinco de Mayo fiestas, and St. Patrick’s Day parades, and churches that hold services in various languages.
I love my memories of the real Argentine club that helped make me aware of my roots in a minor way, and I hope that you enjoy being a part of my fictional club.
JULIA AMANTE
had the misfortune of growing up away from the extended family that is so valued in the Latin culture, but she missed out on very little of what it means to be Argentine. Asados were sacred meals shared together on weekends. Cheering for the Argentine soccer team was a must, as were the pilgrimages to the Argentine Club in Los Angeles, where the young Americanized kids hid under the tables and watched the adults dance tango until the wee hours of the morning. Julia giggled right along with the rest of the kids at how geeky the parents looked, but secretly she was intrigued by the romantic culture and passionate music.
Julia lives in California with her husband, son, daughter, and two pampered pound puppies. She is hard at work on her next novel.