San Felipe Hurricane 1928 – The Pull Of The Land

My wife’s paternal grandparents had fourteen children, twelve of whom survived into maturity. But now, like the elves in The Lord of The Rings trilogy, they are departing, along with their generation.

The night before last we learned that Aunt Ruth had passed away, just a couple weeks short of her hundredth birthday.

For some reason her death caused me great pause, even though I had not known Ruth that well, as she had moved to New York even before my marriage to her niece.

She was the daughter of Tomás and Andrea Vélez who passed away in 1993 and 2001, respectively. They were hardy folks whose life stories held endless fascination for me. For example, their childhood poverty was enough to cause Tomás to leave home as a boy to seek work. He knew not whither he went, but does recall that, alone in the midst of tall grass which impeded his view and utterly confused his sense of direction, he was suddenly called by a young man a number of yards behind who asked him, “¿Adónde vas?“

Tomás answered truthfully that he did not know, to which the young man said, “Come this way,” as he walked off signaling ahead. By the time Tomás got to the spot where he had seen the youth, he had lost him. However, he followed the general direction pointed out by the stranger and eventually came to a cane field operation where he remained for a number of years, even meeting his wife and marrying her there.

To his old age, Abuelo Tomás expressed gratitude, first to God, and second to that young man who somehow took compassion on him but whom he never saw again.

They had two children who died early: one in infancy, the other at the age of twelve. Tuberculosis was a terrible scourge in those days, the early 20th Century. When the infant died, Abuelo Tomás made a small box, placed the baby inside, carried it to the train station, and boarded the train to the municipal cemetery to give it a proper burial.

He sat at the head of the table, hungry and eager to eat after a long hard day’s work. But he saw his children looking at him, obviously hungry. They often recalled to me how their father would take pieces of his bread or other foods and pass them to his children, even though he needed the food more than they given that the next day would be another exhausting one in the fields.

These were tough men and women.

Grandmother Andrea, having been born in 1901 and having died in 2001, lived “along” the 20th Century. She lived during the horrible Boer War, the sinking of the Titanic, the Great Depression, two world wars, the rise and fall of the Iron Curtain, the attack on New York’s twin towers, and much, much more.

As those “great events” developed and subsided and confused and perturbed millions, Abuela Andrea was, first, a good daughter; then, a good wife; then, a good mother; good grandmother; and more. Her Christian faith upheld her and led her to perform her duty with joy and energy throughout her life.

Her children recall seeing her working under the blazing sun, washing clothes, carrying water, cooking, harvesting sweet potatoes, and more. They remember having seen her living in a tent. And singing hymns and taking Communion in church. They vividly remember her helping her husband hold walls that seemed to implode during the terrible San Felipe Hurricane of 1928 and then again during the devastating San Ciprian Hurricane of 1932. In both, their children heard them pray to the Father Almighty for mercy and protection.

By the time she died, over 99% of all those born in her day, had already passed away, not just in Puerto Rico, but throughout the entire world.

As the world shook and reeled from the upheavals of the 20th Century, the Triune God had His eyes on Abuelo Tomás and Abuela Andrea, as He has his eyes on all Who believe on His Son, Jesus Christ and seek to please Him. Such may be unknown to most; however they are known to Him and their impact was and continues to be great. Eternity will One Day reveal that to all.

Their twelve children — Noemí, Ruth, Esther, Eva, Samuel, Lydia, David, Abigail, Miriam, Joaquín, Andrea, and Isaac — had the privilege of burying their parents. However, today, only Samuel, Joaquín, Andrea, and Isaac remain.

I am very grateful to have known them, as I am most grateful to have known my own parents’ friends of that generation.

Few are left, and we would do well to see them as we are able. To thank them and to learn from them.

Ruth’s mind remained sharp to the end. In her last weeks she said, “I feel my strength leaving me.” On her last day on this earth, she was seated in her walker-chair, said, “This is it”, lowered her head, and passed into glory.