Have lived in Buenos Aires, Mexico City, Veracruz, Nueva Rosita, Austin and in Vancouver. The only place I have been able (and allowed) to vote is in Canada’s Vancouver.

This is why I take my voting seriously. Today I lined up for almost 3 hours to vote for our municipal elections.

It was virtually impossible and most difficult for me to vote for Argentine elections when I was in Mexico. In some cases this was because of the military governments in power banned voting.

When I finally returned to Buenos Aires in 1965 to fulfill my obligation of conscription in the Argentine Navy I found out that I could not vote while being in the armed services. What is strange is that for normal people in Argentina, voting is compulsory and you are fined if you do not vote.

Our freely elected country doctor, Arturo Illía, was inside the government building La Casa Rosada on June 28, 1966. I was with other soldiers, sailors, airmen and officers. We had surrounded the building. In my hand I had a 1906 Mauser. An officer with a loudspeaker, most respectfully said, “Mr. President you have 60 minutes to leave the premises." This he did in a taxi.

The next day the military junta’s first decree explaining that they were concerned about Argentine youth being cheated at night clubs when they paid their bills because of bad lighting, now stipulated the minimum wattage for these clubs so the youth could see their bills. The second and third decrees eliminated the constitution and all political parties.

For me, to vote in Vancouver for federal or municipal elections, is a right that I enjoy. When I tell my Argentine family and friends that I vote at schools or community centres and that there are no soldiers with machine guns guarding the entrances, they do not believe me.

I do not take this right for granted. I thank the perspicacity of my wife Rosemary who in 1975 told me that she, our two daughters and I were going to move to Canada. She knew all the above before I ever had any idea.

In an example that coincidence is more often than not, in 1972, I was teaching Spanish in a Jesuit university, Universidad Iberoamericana in Mexico City.  A man came to lecture about the huge budgets of American companies and compared them to the small ones of Latin American countries. When he finished I went up to him and said, “Doctor, yo vi como usted she fue a su casa en taxi.” He smiled and gave me a big hug.