Puerto Rican-Americans in the 1950's

My Mother’s Journey From Puerto Rico to Connecticut

With a one-way ticket in hand, my mother, Lucia, walked across the tarmac on that warm, breezy morning, and boarded a plane in San Juan. Packed in her small suitcase were the few things that she truly needed, yet overflowing with the things that she cherished. Her favorite dresses and shoes, her camera, dozens of letters from her friends, and her favorite photos.

No longer needing the lightweight cotton dresses that she typically wore around town, she neatly folded them into her suitcase anyway. She knew little about the climate in Connecticut. Her sister had reassured her that she had enough warm clothes for her to share. Life in America would be very different indeed.

Antonia was the oldest of my mother’s thirteen siblings. Antonia had been the first in the family to move to America in the late 1950's. Arriving in Norwalk, Connecticut, she had to quickly learn a new language and how to survive on her own. She was single, but very responsible. Soon she was able to save enough money to move into her own apartment. She found work at a local factory that was known for not only hiring Puerto Rican immigrants, but for treating them well. The “piece work” or assembly line work was tedious, but it had set hours and paid well.

Antonia had already informed my mother that she would find her work at the same factory. Other family members had soon followed in Antonia’s footsteps and also found work at the factory. Eventually forming a small community where they could walk or carpool together. Many of the women at the factory worked side by side and formed friendships that eased the ache of “home”. Spanish was their dominant language, but they quickly learned the words that were necessary for their day to day survival.

My mother never quite told me the whole story, but apparently the head of human resources took one look at her and determined that she was far too pretty for the assembly line. She would become their new office clerk. Mami was stunning. She had olive-toned skin, long, jet black hair, and a beautiful smile. During those first few months, her limitations with language were never an issue with the office staff. The company office became the new hot spot as many of the eligible bachelors were finding reasons to stop by.

There was jealousy from some of the other women in the office as well as the women on the assembly line, who felt slighted. The pretty seventeen year old had just arrived and was immediately elevated to a prime position. Despite Antonia’s objections, she began to date one of the engineers. It did not take long for the rumor mill to run full speed. Mami would later tell me that she would laugh off the rumors, but her long pauses let me know that the words and the cold shoulder treatment of her peers did indeed hurt. She had one friend, her sister Antonia.

When I was in my teens and desired to know more about my mother’s life, I began flipping through her many photo albums. Among the sea of family photos, I found several photos of two different men. I was curious about why she had kept them. I debated asking her and came up with my own romantic scenarios. One day, I worked up the encourage to ask her the names of the two mystery men. She looked at me and smiled.

The first photo was of a very handsome man who was captured laughing. His pose was natural as he sat at his desk. I already knew she loved taking photos and I had guessed she had taken this photo too. She only said four things to me about this man: his name was Herman, he was an engineer at the company, he drove a Porsche, and he had beautiful, blue eyes. There must have been more, much more, but she would not elaborate. For a brief moment she was transported back in time and then it was gone. She walked away and I sat there on the floor looking at the man that had obviously meant so much to her. Here he was neatly tucked away into a page in her book of memories.

The second photo was of a young man in his Army uniform reclining on a military jeep. The sleeves of his t-shirt were rolled up to show off his biceps, the hem of his shirt tucked neatly into his camo pants. The back of the photo was a beautiful dedication to my mother.

“Para Lucia,

mi amiga que quiero mucho,

Con todo Amor, Junior”

Whenever she spoke of “Junior”, she spoke softly as if saying his name was too much for her heart. Years later, she would reveal that the photo in question was taken in Vietnam. He was a good friend of hers who lived in the same town. He had promised her that when he returned he would marry her. She painfully told me how she would wait for his next letter to arrive. Revealing in his letters were his fears of returning home in a casket, or not returning home at all. He initially thought he would only be gone for a year, but when he did not return she feared the worst and decided to move to Connecticut so she would not have to hear about his death. He would one day return to Puerto Rico, physically at least, mentally he was a broken man. He would later commit suicide.

During her first winter in Connecticut she told me she had never experienced such intense cold. The snow drifts went past her waist and waiting for the bus to arrive was far too much for her sun deprived bones to handle. Her sister had done her best to prepare her with the proper apparel, but Mami had initially insisted on wearing her favorite high heels to work each day. She later realized that the biblical proverb was true, “pride does comes before the fall” when she took a hard tumble. She began walking to work in her warm, rubberized boots, and would carry her favorite heels in a bag along with her lunch.

Her eighteenth birthday was fast approaching and she was determined to look her best. Having a birthday a few weeks before Christmas had its perks. Her birthday fell on Saturday and her bosses decided to celebrate a day early. Every Friday was pay day and this one was extra special. The floor had been fully decorated for the Christmas holiday. Silver garland, a big, decorated tree with shiny tinsel. She was gifted a beautiful orchid corsage to wear at work and a giant sheet cake for all to share. She was far from home, but Connecticut had now become a special place for her too.