#5: On routines & remembering

My favorite way to start the day is to take Pocho for a walk, saying hello to our doorman friends on Av. Alvear along the way, before sitting down to a café con leche at La Rambla.

With a side of the obituaries, of course.

My predilection for this isn’t a secret - I post about it on social media way too much for reasons unknown to many - but lately I’ve been thinking about it more than usual.

Maybe that’s because for a very panic-inducing period of time last week, an error with La Nación’s computer system meant that new avisos fúnebres weren’t being published.

I wasn’t the only one struggling to cope. This Tweet below reads: “I’m not sure if anyone can understand the impact the problem with La Nación’s obituaries website has had among the Jewish community. Now how are we supposed to start the day?”

Needless to say, my whole world was sent into a tailspin. Well, not entirely, but sort of. It also got me thinking about routines, and how they form such a fundamental part of our existence.

Though I was absolutely born with certified-Type A DNA®, Argentina has made the concept of a routine that much more important. If you find yourself surrounded by a near-constant state of uncertainty, stress, and looming crisis, taking solace in the comfort of predictability is much more rewarding.

Routines provide us with a sense of control and agency, so it makes sense to seek that out as a way of ameliorating the anxiety that comes with living in a place as fickle as this one.

I don’t remember when I started reading the obituaries in Argentina. I think it’s just one of those things that came through the ether. I’ve always been drawn to other people’s lives and legacies; snagging a front row seat to those intimate details that reveal more than they let on.

I’m also lightly obsessed with the vestiges of Argentine high society, relics of a bygone era when last names were everything and using cenar (rather than comer — gasp!) to describe eating dinner could get you stripped of any social standing your forefathers spent generations building.

As the bastion of this establishment rests comfortably within the geriatric set - save for a random few from the younger generations committed to doubling down on antiquated norms that serve only to reaffirm their own tenuous privilege - it makes sense that the obituary section is full of posh octogenarians that have passed on to the great big estancia in the sky.

Reading the avisos fúnebres lets me peek into a world to which I don’t belong, since I’m not a descendant of a familia patricia and sadly don’t stand to inherit millions of hectares of farmland or heads of cattle. It’s a brief exercise in escapism while also serving as a bit of a lesson in Argentine sociocultural history. Essentially, a win-win.

Beyond the virtual hobnobbing, the obituaries give me a strangely warm and fuzzy feeling. It’s kind of hard to explain, I suppose, but as I’m so far from my own family and loved ones, participating in the grief of others somehow makes me feel like I have a stronger connection here.

Sure, I’ve been here for almost two decades and very much do have strong connections to Argentina. But this feels like I’ve found a cheat code that unlocks access to an entire family history that extends much further, much deeper than what I already have.

To keep things light, as I fear that maybe we’ve ventured into near-maudlin territory at this point, reading the obituaries is fun! Seriously. So many amazing names and nicknames, dedicatory notes, tender remembrances, and between-the-lines chisme that never fail to keep me engaged.

🏆 Hall of Name Fame 🏆

Are you more of a Bimba or a Chip? An Oso or a Choqui? When it comes to surnames, pick your poison, and remember — the longer, the better.

Pièce de Résistance: Some of the All-Time Best Obits

I’ve captured dozens, if not hundreds, of avisos fúnebres over the years, digital souvenirs for my treasure chest of random memories. One day I’ll compile them all into a coffee book or something along those lines, but for now this (very) brief selection will have to do. Narrowing this down to just a handful was much harder than you’d think.

Hello my love, today it’s been a year since you made it to heaven, and I know that not even 100 eternities will be enough for me to stop feeling you. Every day I love you more, I miss you more, and I need you more. Fernanda, please don’t leave me here all alone, I don’t want to be without you. I love you, Jorge.

Dear Pepe, you were the biggest supporter of Argentine car racing, but you were also an amazing person. Beloved like few others and friends with the good guys. Affectionate, friendly, kind, loyal, a stand up guy in every sense. Thank you for everything you gave us and for sharing your friendship. You leave an enormous void that is difficult to fill. We’ll remember you always.

His wife, daughters, sons-in-law, and grandchildren bid him farewell with profound love and gratitude for this eccentric gaucho that left his mark along the way. We’re going to miss you, Totito. Gallop high and light.

You were my anchor so I could fly. My love forever. Roxana.

With deep sadness we bid you farewell, our dearest Lu, you were one of the fairy godmothers that life sent our way. You’re pure love, passion, bravery, humor, and professionalism. Your undying commitment. Thanks to Juli, whom we embrace from our soul, for sharing their mother that guided so many children. Thank you for accepting Sion, that little Siamese cat, son of our own cats, who kept you company for years. Like you always said: ‘working with me at my office.’ We love you dearly!

A year since your unexpected departure, I remember all of the adventures and happy moments we shared. You were such a special person, honest, cultured, an incredible doctor, tireless traveler, good conversationalist, and the best partner. I thank you for the 54 years we shared together. I won’t ever forget you. Your wife Haydée.

✨

Bonus Track: There’s a great (though sadly, recently inactive) Instagram account dedicated to the world of avisos fúnebres. I wish I’d been the one to do it first, but alas - you can’t win them all. Check it out here.

For some reason I feel like I have to convince you to appreciate the obituaries as much as I do, but I know that’s not the point. If anything, let it serve as an excuse to meditate on the memory of another human being, someone who touched the lives of the people around them, and who was more than worthy of one last salute.

Until next time,

Paige

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