Home away from home

15 years ago, Judy Sanchez left the violence of her native Puerto Rico for 'heavenly' Kelso

The Sanchez family gets together for a family portrait at their home in Kelso. From left to right, Cito Sanchez, Judy Sanchez, Rosse Wilson with son Jacethen and Rayza Sanchez with daughter Aliyah Wood-Sanchez. Greg Ebersole / The Daily News

Monday, January 7, 2008 5:18 AM PST

By Carrie Pederson

Dressed in a printed sweatshirt, jeans, hiking boots and a ponytail, Judy Sanchez looks like a typical Northwest mom.

But when she starts talking, and her hands start waving around, she gives away her Puerto Rican heritage, which is loud, strong-rooted, flamboyant.

"We speak with our hands when we get excited," says Judy, 43.

She still drinks Bustelo, a coffee similar to the strong Yaucono brew she grew up on. It's just one of the ways she uses flavors, sounds and other means to keep her Puerto Rican heritage alive for herself and three children during her 15 years' residence in Kelso.

Some immigrants "have already become Americanized," says Judy (pronounced "YOU-dy"). "I refuse to."

Judy's dilemma is one millions of emigres have faced: how to keep alive the customs and traditions of her homeland in a new land that gave her refuge from danger and poverty.

Judy's children --- Cito, 16, daughters Rayza, 20, and Rosse Wilson, 23 -- have never been back to their birthplace and don't speak Spanish at home.

"I have only met two people from Puerto Rico here," Judy said.

But in Kelso, unlike in Puerto Rico, Judy has been able to watch her children play outside safely. That's why, "I haven't gone back once," she said. "My kids were the ticket. They were free."

Rape, violence

Judy grew up in a small, one-bedroom cement house with an aluminum roof that often flew off in Hurricanes usually disrupted water service, and she and neighboring families filled pans and buckets with water from a fire hydrant.

There were a lot of small, family-owned businesses in her neighborhood of San Dulce, 20 minutes from San Juan. Relatives lived on every side. Palm trees stood among the rows of concrete homes. Avocados and passion fruits grew wild.

Judy's was raised by her grandparents. She had a brother and a sister raised by other relatives. Her grandma was a seamstress and her grandpa was a tailor. They would make clothes "the way you want it," for 10 to 15 dollars, Judy said.

In Puerto Rico, "you're poor or you are rich," she said. Most people are poor. When she got older, Judy worked at McDonald's making $3.50 an hour. Even professional people, like policemen, made the same wage, she said.

Judy had her first daughter, Rosse, when she was 18. "They are sweet talkers over there," she said. "When I was growing up everyone had a baby young. It was a way of life."

Judy's grandma was fiercely protective -- for good reason. Kids sold drugs on the streets, dead bodies often turned up in elevators, and newspapers carried near-daily dispatches about grisly murders.

One day, with her daughter in tow, a bullet whizzed past her ear and hit a man in front of her on the street. When the police showed up at her house later to identify the suspect, Judy, fearful of retributions, refused to speak and told police the blood on her shirt was spaghetti sauce.

In 1991, she was the victim of a violent rape. Her desire to escape San Juan grew when her son Cito got an illness in infancy. He needed ear surgery to repair damage.

'It sounded like heaven'

Around that time, opportunity knocked. Rhonda Fox, another mom at her daughter's preschool told Judy about her sister's town -- Kelso -- , a place where kids could run and play outside without getting shot.

"It sounded like heaven," Judy said.

She told Judy she would call in three weeks. I got an apartment waiting for you, Fox said. It can't be this easy, thought Judy, expecting to never hear from her again. Three weeks later she called.

Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory so Judy and her children are natural born citizens. But she could only afford to take two children, so she left the oldest and most mature, 7-year-old Rosse, with her grandmother. "I remember when she came to say goodbye," Rosse said. "It was not pretty."

It was summer when she arrived in Portland. Fox picked her up at the airport and brought her to Kelso. They went shopping at 3 a.m. This really is heaven, Judy thought, because two women could safely walk in the street at night.

Judy and her children moved into Fox's duplex on East Pine Way in Kelso. That neighborhood, formerly known for drug dealing, had "a bad reputation. But where I come from that was nothing," she said. "Where I come from they shoot them. I didn't feel uncomfortable having the kids play outside."

Eventually a Cambodian neighbor across the street invited the Sanchez family to stay, then left the whole place to them with two months paid rent. Judy couldn't believe it.

Her daughter Rayza (pronounced Rise-a) was 5 and she started kindergarten at Wallace Elementary. After two surgeries at Shriner's in Portland, Cito, a toddler when he came to Kelso, could hear again.

Judy started working as a freelance interpreter through her church but started bartending in Rainier in 1993 because it was too big of a hassle to get certified in Seattle to translate.

Rosse (pronounced Rose) was reunited with her family in Kelso seven years after they left Puerto Rico. She was almost 14 when she entered eighth grade at Coweeman Middle School. "I sat through classes not knowing one word," she remembered.

It took her about a year to learn to speak English and another year to learn to read it. Rosse managed to get her grades up to a 3.0 at Kelso High School, got her GED on the first try and eventually become a Certified Nurses Assistant.

Today Rosse lives near her mother's home in east Kelso with her son Jacethen and her husband, Al Wilson. Rayza live nearby with Aliyah Wood-Sanchez, her 21 month-old daughter.

Judy has been working as a bartender at the Cadillac Island Casino for six years and also works at the Chinese Garden.

Cito, a junior at Kelso, hopes to work in the music industry someday. He has the opportunity to get a college scholarship through the I Have a Dream class at Wallace Elementary.

"That's why I don't go back," Judy said. "If we would have stayed where he was he would have been in the streets."

Culture shock

Adjusting to life in the Northwest took some doing -- like the time she came out of the Pacific Ocean after a swim.

"My friend forgot to tell me that the water is cold. I came out purple and it took four blankets and an hour in the sun to get warm," she said.

Once she spanked little Rayza in a thrift shop and had to spend six months in a child psychology class. "In my country you can get spanked anywhere by anybody," she said.

She didn't learn how to work a thermostat until the middle of winter. A neighbor came over to discover a sickly Judy and two bundled children. Judy wondered --- What's a thermostat?

She thought she might feel at home living on East Pine Way, often called "Little Tijuana" because so many Mexican people live there. But Mexican music, speech, dance and food all are different.

"We don't do jalapenos. We don't smash the beans. What are these little black things from California?"

"Girl, the food is the hardest," she said. "I used to call my grandma in tears. She said don't worry, I will send it to you."

But when a package leaked on the way to Kelso, she was asked to stop sending produce. So Judy has had to make adaptations, like using taro root instead of Puerto Rican yautia.

Rolling 'Rs'

Rayza and Cito have lost their ability to speak Spanish, though older sister Rosse remains fluent.

Judy raised her children speaking English partly because Cito was speech-delayed due to early deafness.

"They said confusion in language could make him delay," she said. "Just speak English in the house when he's learning to talk."

In elementary school, Reyza decided she did not want to speak Spanish with her mother. At Wallace, "my teacher told me if I ever spoke Spanish in class I would get kicked out," Reyza said. "That really haunted me. I did everything I could to learn English."

Still, Rayza and Cito have retained an understanding of the language their mother still speaks sometimes. Cito "can roll his tongue like a Puerto Rican," Judy said.

As the only Puerto Rican at school, "I just felt so different here. I had no brothers or family," Cito said. "We're different from Mexicans," even though they are good friends.

Judy introduced him to one of his Puerto Rican cousins on-line. "It was cool," Cito said.

"I'm going to take him when he graduates," Judy said. "He wants to get back to the culture, what they do and what they eat."

Despite 15 years in Kelso, Judy is still homesick. "I like this place and everything but all my family is there," she said and may move "when I've done my mom thing."

She'll never forget people like Fox -- who sent her to Kelso -- or the Cambodian neighbor.

"You meet people and they're gone. They're angels. Sometimes you say, did I really meet them? "Judy said. "In my country we help each other, but not like here, (where) you don't have to ask for it."