Volunteer’s Deeds Come Back to Help Him

More than anything else, the black stitches tell the story.

They’re the scores of thick sutures that cut a jagged path along Jose de Jesus Juarez’s once-graceful face, a lasting impression from his near-fatal brush with a truck driver on busy Interstate 5 in Oceanside.

The one-time Mexican cowboy thought he could bolt untouched across the freeway to pick up his young son at a friend’s house. It was either that or risk a confrontation with bullying gang members on an unlighted overpass.

The gamble backfired. Juarez was picked off by a speeding pickup truck, tossed into the air like some defeated bronco buster.

Three weeks later, the North County landscaper and community volunteer is recovering from the painful effects of his after-dark risk: a shattered skull that has so far taken three operations to reconstruct.

Most mornings, looking into the mirror after another sleepless night, the 21-year-old husband and father of two can only shudder at the physical and emotional damage the accident has left in its wake.

Less than a month after the birth of his second son, a time usually awash in pride and joy, Juarez now cringes each time the infant cries in his crib.

The steel plate implanted in his forehead reverberates, sending powerful jackhammer-like bursts of pain into his head.

Now, unable to work for the foreseeable future, with an economic recession looming outside his door, he also worries about recuperating in time to pay the rent and provide for himself and his young family.

But in a rare gesture of community spirit, a handful of San Diego County residents, businesses and nonprofit concerns have come to the aid of the feisty community volunteer who once donated long hours to help them.

Along with their emotional support, they have staged food and clothing drives, solicited cash donations and have pledged to help meet his medical burden in the months to come.

Community members say their gestures are a pay-back to an endearing man who spent weekends volunteering his time--taking part in tree-planting projects along Highway 101 in Encinitas and helping out at a local recycling center and a San Diego family health center.

For the wiry native from the Mexican province of Michoacan, a former professional bull rider who speaks little English, volunteering was a way to make friends in his new home despite the towering wall of language and culture, a way to show that he cared about the community in which he has lived for the past five years.

In a North County community long fractured by its opposing attitudes over the presence of perhaps thousands of documented and undocumented workers from Mexico and Latin America, the story of Jose de Jesus Juarez is one of a neighborly spirit that has bridged the cultural schism.

And while his immediate scars are unsightly, Juarez is indeed lucky to be alive to witness his new son, and the friendships he has seen cemented.

“That’s what I tell him, that I’ve got scars, we’ve all got scars, that’s nothing to be concerned about,” said Francisco Perez, Juarez’s employer and friend. “He’s alive and he’s got friends who care. That’s what matters.”

Those Juarez has met through his volunteering called him one of their own who now needs his own helping hand.

“Jose is not a hero,” said Mark Wisniewski, vice president and project coordinator of People for Trees, a nonprofit group whose focus is improving the environment by planting trees.

“He’s just a guy who’s got a job and does it to the best of his ability, someone who in his free time does community work without pay or pressure from his bosses. He’s a part of our community who in the past has pitched in to help. And now it’s he who needs our help.”

During the past week, People for Trees and several companies have taken employee collections to raise more than $1,000 for food and clothing, as well as infant formula for Juarez’s newborn son, Jose de Jesus Jr.

In addition to canned goods, diapers and children’s clothing, the staff at the Logan Heights Family Health Center in San Diego has pledged to provide follow-up care for Juarez’s head injuries.

Debbie McCane, a health center worker, recalled the summer day when volunteers helped the center plow up part of its Tarmac parking lot to plant jacaranda trees. Among them was a shy man who spoke no English and communicated only by hand signals, she recalls.

“This man came out of the blue--he didn’t know any of us, he’s not from our neighborhood,” she said. “He worked his butt off that day, twelve hours or more. We provided lunch, but he gave us a lot more in return.”

Added Fran Butler-Cohen, executive director of the urban health center: “This is no case of charity. This man helped us improve our clinic so when we heard about his troubles, we immediately tried to help. That’s what good communities are all about.”

Jose de Jesus Juarez joined the local community five years ago when he moved to Oceanside to take a job in a tomato-packing factory in nearby Carlsbad.

As he tells his story, he sits on the edge of a bed with his wife, Griselda, who holds the couple’s infant son. The tiny room they rent in a home in a working-class Oceanside neighborhood holds everything the young family owns: an old refrigerator, bed, crib, desk and highchair.

Juarez is a stern father, barking quick orders to his 1 1/2-year-old son, Juan, who marches about the room. But at times, Juarez drops his shaven head in his hands as if in intense pain, putting pressure on his closed eyes with his fingers.

Born in the small town of Pichataro in central Mexico, Juarez grew up harboring images of a rich agricultural life in the United States.

“I wanted to come and see what picking grapes was all about,” he said with a smile.

At the age of 15, he stole northward across the border and settled in Fresno, where he picked grapes and cotton.

In 1987, he gained legal immigration status and moved south to Oceanside--at first living in a squatter’s camp in the rural hills east of the city.

During bull-riding season, he returned home to Pichataro to show his bull-riding skills and see his family, including eight siblings--as well as his then-girlfriend, Griselda.

In 1989, Juarez began working for Perez, owner of the tiny Boulder Creek Landscape Co. Not long afterward, Juarez joined other workers in volunteering for weekend projects, putting his landscaping skills on display.

“I felt good about it,” he said of his donated time. “I felt more joined with the community.”

Even after long hours of landscaping during the workweek, Perez said there was no hesitation from Juarez to pick up a rake and shovel free of charge on the weekend.

“Jose just likes to meet new people,” he said. “And even though there’s that language barrier, if you really want to make friends, you can even do it by eye contact.”

In recent years, Juarez’s life began coming together. He and Griselda were married and had their first son. Soon came the prospect of a second child.

Then came January 19th.

On his way to pick up his son, Juan, from a friend’s home well after dark, Jose could have taken the high road--a freeway crossing on the unlighted Brook Street Bridge, a path frequented by gang members who had robbed numerous passers-by in the past.

Or he could try a dash across the busy freeway lanes down below. He chose the former.

Moments after making it to the center divide, authorities say, Juarez stepped out into a desperate dance with traffic. After one southbound car swerved to miss him, he was struck by the left side of a 1-ton pickup truck driven by an El Cajon man, according to the California Highway Patrol report of the incident.

The impact with an extended side-view mirror left Juarez’s bruised body lying in the middle of the busy freeway, the entire back of his head smashed. Witnesses on the scene--including the driver of the truck--told officers that Juarez’s injuries appeared so serious they thought he would soon die.

Taken by helicopter to Scripps Memorial Hospital in La Jolla, Juarez spent the next 11 days undergoing three operations. In one procedure, trauma surgeons removed skull and bone fragments from Juarez’s brain.

Other operations placed the steel plate to cover a 3-inch hole in the back of his skull. The completed skin grafting has left a signature of stitches across his hairline.

Juarez recalled coming back into consciousness after the accident. “At first, I thought I was home,” he said. He only realized he was in a hospital when he saw the revolving eye of a CAT scanning machine in which he was placed.

Since his release from the hospital 10 days ago, he has continued to suffer the after-effects of his ill-fated freeway dash.

He has headaches and dizzy spells and sleeps fitfully at best. His head constantly pounds and he nervously picks at his scars. Worse yet, the young man who once laughed regularly is unusually quiet now, someone who would rather be alone.

“It hurts for him to laugh,” Perez said. “I can tell that his pain is a constant thing.”

Still, he insists that he will return to work in two weeks--a claim at which both Perez and Griselda can only shake their heads.

Griselda said she would like to return to Mexico but knows that Jose will receive better medical care in the United States.

Perez, who sees Juarez as a scrappy younger brother, worries about his friend’s mental and emotional comeback.

“I try and stop in to see him every day,” said Perez, who has also pledged financial support for the family. “Jose is a fighter. He’s a real stubborn kid with a spunky spirit. If anything went wrong, he wouldn’t admit it. I have to keep my eye on him.”