The bathroom counter of my childhood home was perpetually covered with Waterpik units, from old models to the latest releases. My sisters and I were expected to try each one, then provide feedback on everything from the water pressure to the color combinations. Every opinion became valuable market research, an unspoken consequence of having a father driven by an entrepreneurial spirit.
My father’s office, a large quinta directly across the street from the smaller one my family called home, was crammed with products that, thanks to his charm and gift for persuasion, would find their way into homes across Venezuela. I loved going there after school under the pretense of seeing my dad. In reality, I couldn’t wait to zip myself into the portable sauna (de rigueur, at the time) or take a spin on the exercise bike — novelties he was introducing to the South American wellness market in the 1970s.
The businesses changed, but his way of looking at the world never did. He moved through life seeing opportunity everywhere. There were the charter flights he launched from New York City to Tel Aviv long before he was married and the thriving mango plantation he created in the sandy, arid landscape of eastern Venezuela using Israeli agricultural technology. Then there were the regular trips from Venezuela to Ecuador. The stacks of Jane’s military reference books crowding his bookcase hinted at another side of his work I knew existed but had yet to understand.
After a lifetime of pursuing ambitious ventures across continents, my father settled in Quito, Ecuador, where he found just as much excitement in something far more modest: selling chicken heads and feet at a neighborhood meat market. He approached it with the same enthusiasm he had once brought to high-stakes negotiations, excitedly recounting deals with vendors, new customers he’d won over and ideas for expanding the business. Even then, he couldn’t stop imagining what might come next.
Happy reading!
Alona Abbady Martinez
alona@bocaratonobserver.com