Buenos Aires – In my trips back and forth to La Plata to visit with Henry in the hospital, I’d noted passing through a small town called “Hudson.” It had struck me as slightly odd, but no more so than such places as “City Bell.” Besides, much of the colonial population was English. Somehow or other, yesterday, the fine print registered… the station’s sign welcomed us to the town of “Guillermo Enrique Hudson.” I thought little of it, and went back to daydreaming, until it suddenly struck me… “William Henry Hudson.”

I have to admit, Mr. Hudson is not someone I’ve been particularly familiar with. I knew he was an English naturalist and author. I know there’s a parkway running alongside northern New York City named after him. Why a town just outside of Buenos Aires named after him?

It didn’t take much web-surfing to find out that he was born here, to English parents, and actually didn’t move to England until he was nearly 30 years old. In fact, he grew up in the pampas, the farming country outside of the city. Hey, I didn’t even know that his most famous novel, Green Mansions, is a romance set in the South American jungle! I guess I need to do some reading.