Autobiography - The Galindo Group

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Ram Galindo THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN Page 164 CHARACTER AT THE NUCLEUS As stated before, I consider the event of birth into my parents’ family the most fortunate accident of my life, for it was at this nucleus where I was lovingly nursed in all the virtues of character forming. I was born in Cochabamba, Bolivia on October 5, 1938. My father, Eudoro Galindo Quiroga, and my mother, Blanca Anze Guzman had three children before me, but the oldest two died as infants. My oldest surviving sister, Maria Consuelo (Toqui) was three when I was born. My brothers Chris and Eudoro (Chuso) came after me two and five years later respectively. My sister Biviana (Vivian) was born when I was eleven. By Spanish custom the children’s last name was Galindo Anze, my father’s family name followed by my mother’s family name. I don’t have many recollections of hearing long speeches from either of my parents about virtue or evil, but since my early years I recall having a desire to seek the former and avoid the latter. In retrospect I realize that the teaching came in the form of example and directed self-education more than in any other way. My father had a library that was always open to us. He subscribed to Argentinian, Spanish and American periodicals, some of which, like National Geographic Magazine, were in English. Though we couldn’t fully read them, we still devoured them. His National Geographic Magazine collection, dating back to 1929, is now a treasure in my brother Chuso’s library. I introduced my two brothers and two sisters in the section Freedom Fighters (Chapter 2), and although there were 14 years age difference between the oldest and the youngest (the two girls), my family experience is intimately intertwined with all of them. My earliest recollections of family life date back to the very frequent visits my parents made to my paternal grandmother’s house, where I would play not only with my siblings but all my first cousins who would also go there accompanying their own parents. Lessons of solidarity, mutual love and respect were taught to us on a daily basis, not as in a classroom, but by making us part of the clan. It wasn’t until I had my own family that I understood the importance of these get-togethers. I believe that the virtues my own children display today were planted in their minds when I repeated the same practice of almost daily visits to my parents’ home. That is where they nursed the morality that makes an individual strong, and therefore a family and ultimately a nation. It is never too early to start. Wake-up time at home was always enforced by school schedules, as were mealtimes. They always were family affairs. During our years at school, the lunch table was the battleground where we would measure our knowledge of diverse subjects, usually not related to specific schoolwork so as to not give any of the five competitors an obvious unfair advantage. My parents seldom missed a meal with us and my father was the instigator and moderator of our games. My brother Chris was usually the winner in Autobiography.doc 164 of 239
Ram Galindo THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN Page 165 matters related to geography and history. I don’t think I ever took the title from him on the subject of world capitals. He knew where every country in the world was and what city was its capital. He also knew the name of the leader of the country and what the country was known for. In addition to history and geography, my sister Toqui knew about math and business questions and she was an expert on music and record players. We had an advantage on my brother Chuso in that he was five years younger than me, and three than Chris. Yet, he held his own, often beating us in some subjects then, and close to always, as a grown up. Vivian was in her first years of school and she already knew some world geography. We grew up accepting the need for knowledge and competition and preparing for both. The intellectual curiosity that these games aroused in us, coupled with the ability my sister Toqui had to attract truly worthy young men as she was growing up, ignited an interest in my mind about flying and airplanes. As a young teenager, helped by one of my sister’s friends, Alberto Pereira, I learned how to build balsa wood model airplanes. The hobby taught me much about structural design, streamlined shapes, and aerodynamics. I learned about specific gravity and other physical attributes of matter. When I finally encountered these subjects in college, I already knew something practical about them. Since my family didn’t have the custom of handing out unearned allowances, I didn’t have money to buy pre-made airplane model kits. So I bought, or more often, made copies of blueprints and then cut my own sticks from balsa wood that came from the jungle forests near Cochabamba. Thus I learned about preparing drawings in advance of construction and finding cheaper alternatives if there were any. The mid-1940s up to the mid-1950s were the years of my childhood. Although Cochabamba had a few movie houses, I don’t recall going to the movies until I was in my teens. But when I was a child my parents figured out ways to entertain us very well. I almost still sense the excitement we and all the cousins felt when on certain weekends my father, who had an 8 mm. movie projector and some Walt Disney cartoon films, would put on a show for the whole clan. Even though we saw the same cartoons over and over again they were days to remember! During school days we would do our homework before Dad came home, and he would check it thoroughly if we needed help. We then had a couple of hours to play together before bedtime. On weekends we usually got together with cousins and friends and played outdoors, went swimming, hiking and told tall tales to each other. As soon as I was able to read well enough to follow a story, I ran into a collection of books by the distinguished Brazilian writer, Monteiro Lobato. He wrote about life on Brazilian farms set in the mid to late 19 th century, about the time of Portuguese slave emancipation. The hero was a boy about my age with whom I immediately identified. His adventures went from unmasking old terror country tales to bridging the class gap between owners and slaves. As I became a teenager engulfed by my aviation hobby, I took up reading about the adventures of Bill Barnes, a Long Island aviator from whom I learned much about planes. Both collections were, of course, Spanish translations. Both Autobiography.doc 165 of 239
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Bernard Bailyn, THE IDEOLOGICAL ORI
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George Fuermann, HOUSTON LAND OF TH
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Council for Natural Cooperation in
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Autobiography - The Galindo Group

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