Trip to Argentina, 1938

My parents were called to preside over the Argentine Mission and we left for South America the summer of 1938; I was seven and Gina three and one/half. My father was 30 and my mother 29 years old. My Dad had filled his mission in Argentina 1927 to 1929 and now would be returning to the land and people he had learned to love. Then it was called the South American Mission.
I remember saying goodby to my grandmother Smith at my Uncle Don's home in Phoenix. I have a picture of her standing and smiling at us taken at that time; she had a lovely smile. She knew she had cancer and would never see us again but was very brave. She told me that when I looked at the picture I would know she was smiling at me.
I don't remember too much of our trip to New York City, but we took the train. In New York, we went to the Radio City Theater and saw the Rockettes dance and roll around on large balls. One couldn't control her's and she kept rolling over to the curtains and grabbing them. We never could figure out if it was part of the show or whether she really was having problems. Dad went to a baseball game while there and saw the Yankees play. He loved baseball and the Yankees.
We didn't know anyone in New York, but when the ship sailed we all waved to the people on the dock. The ship was a lovely place and everyone was nice to Gina and me. The beauty operator told us stories and there was a group of nuns traveling on the ship; they told us stories too. We enjoyed the movies that were shown every other night on deck. Dances were held the alternate nights but Gina and I couldn't stay up for them. There was a swimming pool and treats were served in the afternoon; we had a lot of fun.
Gina and I had a room to ourselves next to our parents. My mother didn’t get much sleep worrying about us. There was no connecting door between her room and ours and she would lock our door then get up and open it in case we needed to get out and she worried then that someone could get in. She and my Dad finally worked it out that he would watch us during the day so she could get some sleep.
A stowaway was found on board and he was locked up in a little cell at the end of the deck. He fashioned a little purse out of string and gave it to Gina. We could peek in and see him in his cell.
I remember our visit to Rio de Janeiro and the trip by cable car to the top of Sugar Loaf Mountain; also the beaches and the wavy black and white tiles in the sidewalks. While walking along a trail on Sugar Loaf, Dad stuck a twig into the side of the hill and told us it would be a tree when next we visited there. I've never been back along the trail to check.
It was very cold when we landed in Buenos Aires, in August, the dead of winter. Dad had taught me the sentence " Como se llama esto?" It means "What is this called, or what is the name of this?" I asked it about an iron and received the reply "plancha". My first Spanish word.
President and Sister Young greeted us warmly and their son Carlitos, about twelve or so, gave me a big pile of "Paturuzu" comics to read. Paturuzu was an Indian. Greta, the German live-in girl, gave Gina and me warm milk sweetened with honey to warm us up. The Youngs returned to the States after a few days.