January 14, 2022
Jane and I taught English in Bayamon, Puerto Rico, during the school year 1971-72. We were both serving a teaching internship through the University of Illinois and became friends during that time. Also, both of us spoke Spanish.
Before joining the Univ. of Illinois program, Jane had volunteered with VISTA (now AmeriCorps VISTA) in Philadelphia (I believe). She became close to a Puerto Rican family in "Philly" and remained in touch with them. One time, they asked if she would visit their relatives in San Juan. It turned out that their relations lived in the biggest barrio of San Juan, infamous for its crime. Few people who didn't live there ventured inside this neighborhood. Concerned about going there alone, she invited me to go with her. Not willing to let my friend go by herself, I agreed to accompany her, but we both had trepidations.
On the appointed day, Jane picked me up at my house. By coincidence, we were both wearing bright yellow polyester pantsuits. We laughed over that, but it was too late to change clothes. So off we went.
We parked outside the entrance to the barrio and walked in. The streets were empty, and we were greeted by silence. Feeling like two very bright yellow canaries walking into a coal mine, we walked along the main street and eventually found the address we were looking for. Along the way, we noticed people watching us from their windows. It was eerie but we kept walking.
We were greeted by Jane's friends' relatives with wonderful joy and warmth. The little apartment was jammed with people from the elderly to toddlers, and they were all overjoyed that we had come to visit them. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon with a lot of laughter, and left very warm memories in my heart.
On our way back to Jane's car (which was still in one piece when we got to it), there was a little more activity on the street, but it was still quiet. We think our hosts had notified all their neighbors that a couple of young American women were coming to visit them, and warned that the local hoodlums better leave us alone. Whatever they said, worked!! I'll never forget that day, nor the joy I felt among these people who were living in the barest of circumstances.
After that school year, I never saw Jane again. However, we kept up over the years through chatty Christmas cards. It wasn't until my latest card was returned with "Deceased" stamped on it that I knew that Jane had passed away. In her last missive, she said she'd been unwell.
I hope her final years were happy. Rest in peace, my friend.
Nancy Eranosian
Los Altos, CA
Before joining the Univ. of Illinois program, Jane had volunteered with VISTA (now AmeriCorps VISTA) in Philadelphia (I believe). She became close to a Puerto Rican family in "Philly" and remained in touch with them. One time, they asked if she would visit their relatives in San Juan. It turned out that their relations lived in the biggest barrio of San Juan, infamous for its crime. Few people who didn't live there ventured inside this neighborhood. Concerned about going there alone, she invited me to go with her. Not willing to let my friend go by herself, I agreed to accompany her, but we both had trepidations.
On the appointed day, Jane picked me up at my house. By coincidence, we were both wearing bright yellow polyester pantsuits. We laughed over that, but it was too late to change clothes. So off we went.
We parked outside the entrance to the barrio and walked in. The streets were empty, and we were greeted by silence. Feeling like two very bright yellow canaries walking into a coal mine, we walked along the main street and eventually found the address we were looking for. Along the way, we noticed people watching us from their windows. It was eerie but we kept walking.
We were greeted by Jane's friends' relatives with wonderful joy and warmth. The little apartment was jammed with people from the elderly to toddlers, and they were all overjoyed that we had come to visit them. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon with a lot of laughter, and left very warm memories in my heart.
On our way back to Jane's car (which was still in one piece when we got to it), there was a little more activity on the street, but it was still quiet. We think our hosts had notified all their neighbors that a couple of young American women were coming to visit them, and warned that the local hoodlums better leave us alone. Whatever they said, worked!! I'll never forget that day, nor the joy I felt among these people who were living in the barest of circumstances.
After that school year, I never saw Jane again. However, we kept up over the years through chatty Christmas cards. It wasn't until my latest card was returned with "Deceased" stamped on it that I knew that Jane had passed away. In her last missive, she said she'd been unwell.
I hope her final years were happy. Rest in peace, my friend.
Nancy Eranosian
Los Altos, CA