It’s A Kind of Magic.
- Marcel Courteau
- Jul 29, 2024
- 7 min read
Updated: Aug 7, 2024
It had been two days with only an open package of "Express" cookies in the pantry. I was returning from Morón University on the Sarmiento train, heading towards Caballito station. My first month in Electronic Engineering, which I had chosen partly because I liked it, although I didn't really know what it was about, and partly because it allowed me to return to the Capital, where I was born and where all my childhood friends were.
Two years ago, my father had lost his job. Partly because the owner of the company was an idiot and largely because Martínez de Hoz (the minister of economy at that time), had the idea of opening imports. All the printing work could be done in Chile at half the price and payable in 120 days. Get it? No?
After four months of being locked in his room, mom took us from Caballito to Villa Gesell, where we had a summer house. Dad used to say, "I bought a house on the last street of the village." When we went to see it, we passed it by five blocks, partly because of the booming construction plan and partly because there was still money to invest.
I think my mom brought that magic. It was November '78, dad was catatonic in his room with the TV on all day. He only came out to the patio in his robe for fifteen minutes to smoke a cigarette.
In a month and a half, don't ask me how, from maternal entrails, those magical moves emerged. My two sisters (15 and 13) started working in an ice cream shop on Avenue 3.
My mom's friends “arranged” a job for my dad as an administrator with the Spanish Galicians at the Apolo Hotel, and I, at 16, after the 78 World Cup celebrations, became my dad's assistant as the hotel bellboy.
I wanted to go back to Buenos Aires. While delivering breakfasts to rooms or scratching cars while parking them, I kept thinking: How the hell do I get back?
I spent fourth and fifth year at Ana Botger in Gesell, feeling a pain in my chest thinking about my friends who continued their lives in Buenos Aires. I missed the graduation trip and became the “new kid” from the “Capital,” playing from the start on the losing team.
I never got along with the idea of feeling loved. I always found it hard to understand. But even losing things along the way, it made me stronger.
I don't remember how, but a veterinary professor needed volunteers to vaccinate pets and organized a campaign to raise money for the graduation trip. I vaccinated many dogs thinking of keeping the money to travel with my friends from the Capital, but those in Gesell didn't like the idea and asked me for the money, taking away my vaccination equipment.
That put me directly on the ignored team.
They say the best in you comes out when things get hairy.
I think my connection to magic started during that winter vacation. My mom didn't know if it was because of the cold or something else, but I wouldn't leave my room.
Magic 1: One golden glance of what should be.
Again mom: “Let's go to Dr. Espósito. You can't be like this all day.”
The doctor told her that when kids move, they often experience moments of depression, and blah, blah... the thing is, my mom paid for a bus ticket so I could spend the winter vacation in the capital, in the apartment of a relative who, since he was going on vacation, had it empty.
Villa del Parque, Tinogasta and Cuenca. The corner pizzeria, strolls with the Misericordia girls from Devoto, the Geraghty brothers, Jimmy and his younger brother, who lived in front of the Zubizarreta Hospital square, attended Cardenal Copello School, and had a motorcycle. With the few bucks my mom gave me, I played the guitar, sang Sui Generis songs, and life was a house-to-house party that winter of '79.
I had to go back to Buenos Aires. The plan was to enter university. I liked mathematics, so I chose engineering. Since Mar del Plata, the nearest big city where I could study while staying at home, didn’t offer it, I opted for electronics, which was only available in Buenos Aires, allowing me to return there. Additionally, I needed to work, so I chose UTN (National Technological University), the only one that allowed night classes.
Magic 2: No mortal man can win this day.
My dad was already managing a car wash. Everything I saved working with him in winter was used to pay Professor Abruzzo, the Mathematics teacher at Botger, to prepare me for the entrance exam. What I saved in summer lasted me from January to March, while living in my dad's apartment in Caballito, which he couldn't sell because things were tough in the '80s.
During two months of entrance courses, we had two subjects: Mathematics and Physics, with two exams each. It was crucial to get good grades to secure a spot. I solved the first Mathematics exam without problems. But for the first Physics exam, I overslept and arrived half an hour late, so they didn't let me take it. Although I completed the rest of the exams adequately, I didn't reach the required average and was left out.
How could I have overslept? Again, the pain in my chest and the nightmare of thinking about going back to Gesell. No, I'm not going back. I didn't know what to do. I was alone in the apartment, sleeping in my parents' room, which had separate Louis XV-style beds. I was running out of money. My parents didn't know anything. It was March, the time for high school exam retakes. I went to Calasanz (my old high school) looking for some clarity, but no, I wasn't going back to Gesell.
I found out that the University of Morón, a private institution, offered Electronic Engineering. But for me, it was unaffordable, I didn't have a job, and it was like paying rent.
In Calasanz's office was Osvaldo, our hall monitor, who had been a student older than me and was studying in the seminary. A friendly janitor, my confirmation godfather.
We greeted each other, and I loosened up. I needed to talk and let it all out. Suddenly there was a pause, and he told me to wait because he had to do something.
I thought it was something related to the students taking exams. I stayed there looking at the pictures, seeing the photos of the alumni, and some priests who were my teachers.
He came back with a big smile and said: “Take this” and gave me an envelope. “Go to the bank, cash it, and enroll in Morón University. You need to study.” It was his paycheck.
“Osvaldo, you’re crazy.” He looked at me and said: “Go study.”
It helped me pay for the enrollment and the first two months. Do you think he asked for any conditions or a deadline to return it? Not at all.
Of course, I paid him back much later.
But I will never, ever forget it.
Magic 3: The bell that rings inside your mind is challenging the doors of time.
The dream of staying in Buenos Aires was within reach, but a small detail could undo everything in an instant. Now I had to find a job. Every day, I read the newspaper, marked ads, and stood in line. Sometimes I didn't even get to the door because it was too late, or they told me the job went to the first person in line. I ended the day kneeling at the Christ of the Poor in the Basilica of San José de Flores.
Sometimes, with the hope of meeting some Misericordia High girls who went to mass. Sometimes everything seemed crazy, so difficult, so twisted, while my friends had their lives more organized, living with their parents, some relative helping them. It was inevitable to fall into those dark clouds and feel closer to going back than staying.
I had to call my father and tell him. My mom was mad because I left, she wanted me to stay there. But I had had enough with the last two years of high school in Gesell. My dad was clear: he couldn't help me with college or send me anything regularly. Even so, money would arrive by simple mail, in a plain envelope, sometimes 5 or 10 bucks, just when I needed it most.
One day, after praying to the Christ of the Poor, I found out, there in the atrium, from Guillermo that his father, the judge, had a vacancy in the court. Auxiliary 7th class, a position paid less than a school janitor, often left vacant. I showed up. When filling out the papers, I found out the position was canceled and automatically inscribed as Auxiliary 6th class, with a higher salary that allowed me to see things more long-term. Even so, they withheld the salary for two months until the process was complete..
I thought about the “Express” package at home. Very few cookies left. I think only two, while walking from Caballito station towards Honorio Pueyrredón avenue.
At that point, all that was left was magic.
Hunger twisted my stomach, three days left to get paid. Not a cent in my pocket. Dad's letters hadn't arrived in a while. The Galician César's store was already closed, and hunger didn't even allow me to imagine words.
Having done all I could, I walked alone, surrendered, eyes lost towards the traffic light at the corner of Aranguren and Honorio Pueyrredón Avenue.
What do you think? Out of nowhere.
Suddenly, a fruit and vegetable truck advanced on green, fearsome, indifferent, furiously down the avenue.
Up there, something moved, and I couldn't help but pay attention.
A wobbling shadow stirred. Suddenly it was clearer. A giant pumpkin fell and shattered on the pavement without the driver noticing. The truck continued. Was it from heaven?
As if it were Manna, my hands couldn't carry more than three pieces, and behind me, some old ladies divided up what was left, which was not less.
It lasted me the three days until I received my first paycheck.
In life, I've played the lottery many times and never won anything. But I didn't need to.
Magic requires an initial decision to let it into your life. It is a bridge from the visible world to the invisible. Although many pretend it doesn't exist, it's in every corner.
Even if you don't believe it, and sometimes it seems incredible to me, I still manage with these little everyday magics.
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