Obituaries

Jane Glazener

Even though she’d lived in a couple of small communities, and then Santa Paula for an amazing 57 years, Jane was a born and bred big-city girl, proud to be a Los Angeles native.  Santa Paula was definitely “home,” and she was grateful to live out her life here, where she raised her family and made good friends...but we all knew Jane left a part of her heart in the City of Angels.   (Just try to coax a section of Sunday’s Los Angeles Times newspaper away from her...)

Jane had happy memories of childhood, adolescence and young adulthood in L.A.  Her maternal grandparents had settled there in 1903 when the city was still “new.”  Although young Jane’s family was poor, as were so many of the people she knew in the years of The Great Depression, life was rich in other ways.  Jane’s mother, Helen, was one of nine children, the majority of whom still lived in the area, so Jane had tons of cousins (plus lots of aunts, especially Grace and Inez, and uncles Bryan and Perry) as well as her Dutch paternal uncle from Friesland, Henry (Hans), who doted on her and her brother, Bill.  The small, unincorporated enclave within the city where they lived was familiar, friendly and comfortable, with neighborhood shops, church, library and school.      

Jane actually had the wonder of a dual life.  There were the amenities of urban living, with shopping or theaters and the occasional restaurant treat.  But in the shadow of a downtown more near than far, Jane’s father, Tony (Teunis), had created a “homestead” (almost a small, “country-life” farm) no doubt to replace his own difficult, barren youth lost to cruelly-long days indoors as a factory worker from the age of 9 (before child labor laws were enacted in the United States).  From the snowy, sooty mill towns of central New York, he’d found in southern California his own special paradise, with blue skies, bright sun and his beloved ocean for which he’d yearned, having left The Netherlands as a child on the north coast of Holland when his parents sought a better future in America as the 19th century drew to a close.

Jane’s early years were nothing like her dad’s and instead carefree...running in bare feet all summer, playing in her huge yard of the house her dad built with his own hands (the house where she was born and which still stands today).  In the long, deep city lot he’d bought as a young man with earnings from hard work in the SoCal oil fields (the promise of wealth which had lured him from a horse farm in beautiful upstate New York where he’d run away from the factories at the age of 14, finding work as a groom on a wealthy gentleman’s estate), Tony had managed to plant expanses of green lawn for his little piece of California heaven, along with a vast vegetable garden and any number of fruit trees (including an exotic banana tree), from which Jane’s mother (Helen) had a bounty of healthy produce to cook, can and otherwise put away for hard times.  Tony would look at his well-used, wooden ice skates hanging on a hook in the small garage (man cave!) he’d constructed, where he’d listen to the radio and tinker at his workbench (the neighborhood kids brought their broken toys for him to repair; he’d do magic tricks for them!), and remember the rare instances when, as a working child, having limited time-off from factory work six days per week (with all-day church on the Sabbath), he could sometimes catch a rare Sunday afternoon to be a real kid again, skating on the ice of the frozen Erie Canal to tunes his Dutch father played on a treasured Italian accordion.  Tony would be glad in his adult heart that he could give his two children, Billy and Jane, the freedom of childhood which he knew his father had wanted to give his own sons and daughters but couldn’t for the sake of survival in the new land to which they’d arrived as immigrants after a horrific voyage across the angry Atlantic in a wave-tossed ship as passengers of steerage, knowing no English and with few, select skills (such as knowing how to guide and navigate boats through Dutch canals, not so unlike the Erie).

Little Jane idolized her big brother, Bill, whom she followed everywhere, often to his dismay when he didn’t want a baby sister tagging along (such as during a serious game of marbles with his boyhood chums).  Billy was allowed to keep horned toads in his bedroom’s chest of drawers and they held much more fascination for Jane than her pet duck.  There were also chickens and rabbits to play with, a large aviary with many species of birds and always a good dog trying to herd all the other creatures (and children) on the property, especially faithful Blitz, the noble German Shepherd who was Jane’s protector and always at her side, wherever she might toddle.  For a long while, the family had a pet alligator (which made Jane and Billy the most popular kids on the block).  The alligator was a youngster, having been part of a crazy stunt with some conventioneers convening in the city center, and the bewildered creature passed through a few hands (and a ride on the streetcar) before it was given to Jane’s father, who was known as the local animal whisperer.  Tony made a large, airy enclosure with a wood floor and sunken cast iron tub for water, stones, greenery and pebbles, which the alligator basked in.  The children would enjoy feeding the gator some ground beef on a stick and laugh as he chomped down on the stick with a snap, sometimes making a happy “yelping” sound.  When he got too large for safe handling, a pet store owner offered to take him and it was always hoped he’d found a permanent home at the lively Alligator Farm in Lincoln Heights (as an attraction...not a handbag).

Fun and cost-friendly family outings during The Great Depression were at the beach at any one of the Los Angeles area piers where Jane’s seaside-born father fished regularly for the family’s dinner.  He’d “invented” a special smoker in which to smoke the fish but Jane’s mother, an amazing cook (and professional baker of pies...her lemon meringue pie was a specialty), had also become an expert at filleting, frying or baking anything with a fin so, although Jane suffered from rickets and pneumonia as an infant and faced death, she pulled through with a better diet of fresh fish, organic fruits and vegetables which laid the foundation of lifelong, nutritious eating and could have had something to do with why she lived to a very old age (although you really couldn’t ever get her to eat a fish again!).  Jane was the original “Earth Mother,” giving her kids snacks of fruit, veggie sticks, nuts and lowfat milk when they would rather have had ice cream, soda pop and candy!

Jane’s dad, as his father before him in the 1800s, made his living as a green grocer.  Whereas his father sold root vegetables and fruits out of his store cellar in New York, Tony sold them from his large truck after loading it with orders filled at the huge wholesale produce marketplace in downtown Los Angeles in the vicinity of San Pedro Street.  Tony had any number of customers to whom he’d sell door-to-door, particularly a upscale clientele whose maids and cooks would meet him at the servant’s entrance to choose the day’s wares.  (These were the days before supermarkets, and also before adequate refrigeration, so food was cooked fresh every day.)  It was youthful Jane’s thrill to ride in her dad’s big truck to the multi-block market in early-morning hours and explore the individual sellers’ market stands while he loaded his purchases, Jane always under the watchful eye of a kindly vendor’s wife from China (hired by Tony to babysit), who entertained Jane with tempting delicacies from her stall, notably delicious lychee nuts (dried lychee fruit) to keep her occupied while her father was busy in the sometimes unsavory environment of the warehouse district.  From these interesting, multi-cultural experiences of years at market, Jane learned to respect and enjoy a variety of people, their customs and foods.

Because both of Jane’s parents worked at outside jobs during most of her growing-up years, she was often under the care of her mom’s best friend and neighbor, Mae, who had no children of her own but financial means and luxury of free daytime due to success of her popular, local restaurant/bar.  Mae poured money and love into her surrogate daughter, Jane, which was wonderful for a little girl whose own family was struggling to make ends meet.  Mae would get hold of tomboy Jane on a Saturday morning, wash her up, curl her hair and put her in a frilly dress she’d purchased for the occasion because Saturday was “their” time to have an all-day adventure.  These were memories that Jane never forgot, and she and Mae formed a special bond that lasted until the day Mae died (when Jane was almost age 60 and Mae at 90).  It might be that Mae took Jane to the favorite Selig Zoo to see the lions but mostly they headed to Broadway in downtown Los Angeles, with shopping at Bullock’s off Seventh, May Co. or the Broadway store itself.  Jane particularly loved the spectacular window displays at Christmas, where the largest of the great, anchor department stores would have mechanical toys in elaborate holiday scenes.  The Broadway commercial district was a whole day of fun at any time of year because it was the entertainment center for Los Angeles with gorgeous movie palaces besides the fine stores.  Jane and Mae would take in a Saturday matinee, usually at the Million Dollar Theater or the RKO Theater.  This was the 1930s and, in addition to the movie, the theaters would further entertain with a live stage act, sometimes with sequenced dancers in a big revue with ornate stage props.  This was mesmerizing for Jane and fed her big love for stage musicals.  As she grew and became a singer herself, Jane was often an actor in school plays and musical productions, most notably “Carmen” in junior high when the family temporarily lived in Santa Ana (involvement in theater helping to ease Jane into a new school).  A talented pianist and vocalist in the footsteps of her musically-gifted mother (Helen), Jane and her gal pal from the neighborhood, Charlotte Kremers (with whom she was “best friends” until Charlotte’s death a few years ago), would entertain themselves and others with Charlotte on violin and Jane on piano.

Jane was so familiar with living and being in the city that she could get around Los Angeles by herself quite easily from an almost too-young age.  She was fearless and capable, and it was second nature for her to hop on a streetcar and get from here to there, visit cousins or go shopping, such as buying fabric at one of the downtown department stores to sew her own clothes for school.  This is why, as an honor student but unable to afford college, when graduating from high school at age 16, she quit her after-school job at Woolworth’s (bagging goldfish for customers out of the store’s aquariums) to immediately start working full-time in downtown Los Angeles as a page (messenger) for Citizens National Trust & Savings Bank, which was a large lending institution with 33 branches across the city.  Getting around in the metropolis wasn’t intimidating to Jane and she loved her home base, which was bank headquarters at Fifth & Spring.  The job found this teenager running all over the city, off and on streetcars, ferrying loan papers between bank branches, the federal building and other companies who were bank customers.  Jane went on to greater positions of responsibility with the bank over time.  She met a lot of people and formed lasting friendships with co-workers.  It was a glam life to wear beautiful business suits, with high heels, a nice handbag, gloves and hat.  Jane’s world was a business and social whirl while still in her late teens.  Although they usually found themselves at various city lunch counters or Clifton’s Cafeteria, which was actually a tranquil and soothing environment for busy working people at their midday meal break, a nice tradition in her circle of women friends at the bank was meeting before work on December 24 for their annual holiday breakfast at the posh Los Angeles Biltmore Hotel on Pershing Square.  Although for the rest of the year it was indeed a more modest life...and World War II eventually colored everything anybody did...Jane was an active girl still going to the movies, riding horses in Griffith Park’s lovely Ferndell and swing dancing to the live, Big Band music at the fabulous new Palladium on Sunset in Hollywood, wearing her favorite white dress with a black and red-flowered skirt which flared out “to there” on the dance floor as Jimmy Dorsey or Harry James wowed the SRO crowd of thousands on a single night.

In fact, until the very last boy in the band went off to war, Jane herself was the girl singer in a newly-formed “Big Band” orchestra, singing Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine,” or “Night and Day,” and other popular tunes of the day...even cutting a demo record as the band snagged more and more gigs.  Jane had always sung in school and the church choir, gradually moonlighting as a paid wedding singer, but fronting a Big Band as the vocalist was an exciting dream come true for her.  With its demise came disappointment, but Jane was never one to sing the blues for very long.  After all, a lot of dreams were cut short for many people in wartime, and The Greatest Generation persevered with new ones.  Jane was only age 18, both her brother and teenage sweetheart (future husband), Victor, were in the fight, one in Europe and the other in the Pacific, life at home could be scary with mock air raids and blackouts, but life did indeed go on.  Jane continued to work in downtown Los Angeles, very glad for a good job with promotional opportunities at Citizens National, and to be able to help out her parents with whom she still lived.  One of her favorite office positions in the bank found her working in the well-known Bradbury Building, an architectural gem located at 3rd & Broadway in downtown, very close to what had been the once-wealthy Bunker Hill, reached by Angels Flight.  She was enthralled with the ornate building’s stunning interior and light-filled court but wasn’t too enthused about its older, “cage” elevators and would opt to climb the staircases instead of using the lifts.

There were a few occasions when Jane did get out of the city and enjoy a bit of time-off from work, a highlight being Yosemite National Park where she had friends who worked as park employees year ‘round, one of whom was married to a ranger.  Jane would board the train at the recently-completed Union Station (Los Angeles’ great rail station) and then take the bus from Merced into the park, which was quite empty due to lack of tourists since few people had enough tire tread to drive a car (much less the fuel to run it) due to the shortages in wartime.  She came to know every waterfall in the park, and there was no hike she didn’t take.  Jane loved Yosemite almost to tears and her vacation experiences there in the war years made for many return trips to the park over the course of her life.  A lasting impression was the magnificent Ahwahnee Hotel converted during the war into a recovery hospital for wounded sailors by the U.S. Navy.

Making her 20s even more exciting was becoming engaged to marry Victor Glazener who’d been gone for three long years in service with the U.S. Army during World War II.  They’d met through a classmate who was friend to both when they were students in different high schools within the city.  The occasion for first introduction was a “social” for Jane’s youth group from church.  Vic and Jane caught each other’s eye and their destiny was sealed.  He was new to Los Angeles, having moved from Texas, and she didn’t quite get his name right, but we still have the postcard she sent, inviting him to the next party (and encouraging him to “Be Prompt!” which became a running family joke over the decades).  Opting to not “tie each other down” in the disruption of wartime, bundles of letters were exchanged in the three years they were separated and neither ever seriously dated anybody else.  In all the years after, Jane and Vic would occasionally talk about their joyous and poignant reunions during the war when Vic would be furloughed, nearly frantic to find each other in a sea of khaki as hundreds of servicemen spilled out of a train at the same time for their mini-vacations.  Somebody else who was happy to see Vic return was Jane’s dog, Mike.  We wouldn’t advocate this today...although it didn’t hurt him and he lived to old age in canine years...but Mike The Dog had a crazy desire for chewing gum, thanks to Vic.  The minute he saw his human gum buddy, even if a year had gone by, Mike would stop in his tracks, sit up with paws in the air and wait for Vic to give him a little piece of Dentyne chewing gum.  They became forever friends.

Jane looked forward to marriage but, having been a working girl for several years, she actually didn’t know much about homekeeping.  So, six months before the wedding, Jane quit the bank.  Her mother taught her how to cook, they immersed themselves in wedding planning, and she spent time gathering and making things for her new life as a wife.  Finding a place to live, in a city flooded with couples just like themselves after the war, was a frustrating situation but they eventually landed an airy, new apartment over a garage built for a just-constructed home.  The newlyweds settled into married life, Jane found a good job as secretary to the superintendent of the vast Inglewood High School District (where she met Violet Ulf, another ‘friend for life’ til Vi’s passing in the 90s) and Vic went to college on the GI Bill for returning World War II veterans.  Life in their 20s was great for Vic and Jane.  They were active and productive, always saving time on the weekends for their parents but also for themselves with maybe a Friday night movie date, a Sunday drive, etc.  There was no shortage of fun, inexpensive things to do in the big city and they forged lifelong friendships with other couples, having dinner at each other’s homes and enjoying each other’s company.  Vic graduated from college and got a coveted job with Southern California Edison in Santa Monica.  Jane got pregnant and they became parents to a daughter, with Jane embracing motherhood fully as a stay-at-home mom.  Vic transferred with Edison to Santa Barbara and the little family found a cozy bungalow in tiny Carpinteria.  Although it was difficult for Jane to be gone from the big city and every person or thing she had ever known, she loved being a mother and wife...and living closer to her cherished brother, Bill and his wife, LaVon plus their four kids who were only a half hour away in Santa Paula, along with Jane’s uncle, Russ and her aunt, Elizabeth, among other relatives and friends in the area.  It wasn’t long before Vic and Bill formed a working agreement about the family grocery business (Vandy’s) which meant Vic, Jane and their baby girl relocated to Santa Paula, too, where they bought their first and only home, welcoming a son (Robert) two years later.

Jane encouraged reading, crafts and hobbies for her kids at home.  School was sacred but playtime was also important.  A favorite mini-trek was to Steckel Park in summer, kids spilling out of the car in a rush to the swings, hot dogs on the grill, visiting with other moms setting out lunch on the picnic tables while the dads were at work.  Their son’s Boy Scout endeavors were supported, and Jane was a troop leader for Bluebirds (Camp Fire Girls).  She volunteered as a yard monitor at Glen City School for lunch recess.  Very significant was Jane’s ability to budget, living a full but frugal life.  She canned jams and jellies, cooked wonderful meals for her family, sewed beautiful dresses out of “nothing” for school dances, she knitted shawls and crocheted afghans, hooked rugs and painted on canvas with oils or acrylics (scenes of Santa Paula, and much of the Rincon where the family spent many a joyous summer vacation at Jay Hight’s and also Caldwells’ beach homes).  She’d mow the lawn, plant flowers, was whip-smart at crosswords and Jeopardy on TV.  She fostered a love of musical theater in her children, playing well-worn albums of Broadway show soundtracks on the record player, she was a big reader of anything non-fiction, loved to watch the evening news on television (and, in later years, her favorite British comedies on PBS).  She would pay visits to elderly neighbors and do helpful things for them.  (She taught her kids to be nice to cats and dogs, older folks and people with challenges.  She wouldn’t tolerate bias, and one of the most upsetting things of her childhood was a curfew imposed on blacks, remembering the polite and friendly “shoe shine” man who was forced to close up his stand and get off the sidewalk at sundown just because of the color of his skin.)

Modest but lively birthday parties occurred on the patio when weather permitted, kids running around the yard, pinning a tail on the donkey.  She was adept at creating terrific Halloween costumes for her children.  And Jane was a master when it came to hiding Easter eggs.  She baked delicious oatmeal cookies.  She was very knowledgeable about a lot of things and had an encyclopedia in her head about coins, stamps, baseball cards, dolls, china and vintage toys.  Until a stroke and vision problems in advanced age robbed her of the ability to read, Jane never stopped her “book” learning.  She’d had a photographic memory and could remember what she’d read and on what page.  She loved to travel and was a good trip planner, often reminiscing about fun family day trips or vacations to national parks, historical sites and places of interest.  Her two-month-long road trip in 1986 with Victor to see the U.S.A. from coast to coast was a favorite subject, as this is when she finally got to see The Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, which had left her father spellbound as a kid coming to America, as well as visiting her large number of Dutch relatives in Michigan for the first time.  She loved big boats and everything about a cruise to Alaska she took with her husband after they were semi-retired.  And Jane liked to have singular experiences, such as seeing Peggy Fleming skate in her first professional ice show after the Olympics at the Forum in L.A.; taking in a performance (and fireworks!) at the Hollywood Bowl on a warm August night; the lavish “The King and I” musical at the Pantages, or venturing to Westwood for the much-anticipated movie called “Mary Poppins;” traveling to Hemet to see the outdoor production of “Ramona” or catching the latest exhibit at Los Angeles County Museum of Art.  (If she had a regret, it would have been that she only watched the Rose Parade from the comfort of home instead of curbside in Pasadena.)  She spent many, many weekends in her “second home” of Catalina Island, took a day hike on Anacapa Island when she thought she was getting too old to do such things, had fun mail-boating on the Rogue River in Oregon or taking the ferry to explore the San Juan Islands.  (Jane, like her coastal Netherlander ancestors and also her daughter, often got somewhat antsy if she was ever too far away from a body of water!)  One of her standout memories was staying at the (former neighbor) Kirchenbauer’s family/ancestral weekend cottage in Spearfish Canyon outside of Deadwood, South Dakota and seeing Mt. Rushmore...or tracing family history in Missouri’s pastoral Ozarks to see her maternal great-great grandparents’ farm; also Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, the Grand Canyon, Hawaii and Canada.  

Jane tirelessly carpooled and helped her kids with homework.  She worked hard in her husband’s home-based accounting business, which they started in 1964 and ended in 2004.  She loved her succession of dogs and cats, starting with Daisy before Jane and Vic had kids, then Lady and Angelita, Little Lily, Big Boy and Old Man Henry.  A swear word rarely escaped her lips and Jane couldn’t abide bad spelling or bad grammar.  She believed in good manners and thank-you notes.  She had longtime friends and only a few months ago lost her last childhood friend (Lillian) with whom she’d shared a blanket as infants.  She liked to walk in the rain, and when 

she couldn’t do that anymore, she ‘swam’ with her treasured friends of many years, particularly Helen Wright, at the Easter Seals therapy pool in Saticoy.  She enjoyed her wild birds and trees on the property, as well as the roses in her yard which were offspring of the ones she grew up with in her parents’ home (a housewarming “grafting” gift from her father in the 1950s).  She loved morning coffee in a beautiful cup and, in former years, a petite glass of sherry before dinner.

Jane was raised in what today would be considered poverty but also amid certain refinements and it was important to her to preserve nice traditions and rituals for herself and for her family (like occasionally getting out the good china and cloth napkins!).  She could name any vegetable growing in a field or any fruit growing on a tree which, of course, was a throwback to her initiation as a child of the produce industry/grocer careers of her father and paternal grandfather, uncles and brother. 

Jane had a good, long life.  She loved her home and family, had insatiable curiosity about many things, preferred to be busy and useful, was blessed with a happy marriage of sixty years, and she had kids who didn’t give her too much trouble!  She had robust health until her 60s when she was felled with auto-immune disease but, for many years in spite of that disability, she and her loving husband (and dedicated caregiver), Victor, still managed to have a meaningful life...and, oh, how she missed him once he was gone.  She’d hoped to reach age 90 and still had much interest in living.  It was very hard for her to lose her son when he unexpectedly and suddenly died at age 34 but we like to think their ailing, failed hearts are now healed, beating strong in unison, linked in a better place.

Jane is survived by her oldest child, Vicki and much-loved son-in-law, Ron Entrekin both of whom have been committed to her care and wellbeing since Vic’s failing health in 2007.  Jane had the blessing of many compassionate people to help her in her everyday, older-age life, including Terry Segovia, Socorro Perez and Dorothy Hernandez and, since 2010, her valued companions and most precious 24/7 caregivers:  Eva Owusu, Silvia Felix, Zonia Gonzales (and, formerly, Estela Viveros)...love and friendship none of us expected, not just a job; giving quality, purpose and encouragement to Jane in her day-to-day life at home. There are no words to adequately express our gratitude.  

The family is also indebted to Lynne Martson, Director of Livingston Caregivers in Ventura (and her staff), along with the entire Livingston family of companies, beginning with Livingston Visiting Nurses and therapist team for post-hospital care in 2010 and ending with Livingston Hospice in 2013 who we know would have given Jane the life she wanted had she not passed the day before we were to bring her home one last time.

When you live in one neighborhood for so long, pleasant acquaintances and enduring friendships are formed.  Jane was enriched by a great community of neighbors, too many people over too many years to mention, but some who come to mind are the Wyands, as well as Marolyn Owen Lauderdale from the 1950s with whom she was still corresponding at Christmas; the late, soulful Nora Snyder; dearest next-door neighbor (currently, and from the beginning in 1956), Penny Buettner; Boots Horton; Joyce Evans; Dorothy Claypool; Joan Kus; Charlotte Raitt; John and Joan Atmore Miller; Mary Paulson Brown; Wanda and Jake Seigler; Logsdons and Pattersons; Marguerite Johnson; Gallaghers; the Victorias, Whittakers, Kellers and Spracklens; Mike and Mary Kaplan; the Freys and Gourleys; Fred Oliver family; Rod and Judy Yanez, Ty and Laura; Maria and Alfred Soto; Sutterfields; Maria Bombara; Kelsey Stewart and the cookie brigade when the boys were tiny.  Thank you to the Unzens:  Mark and loyal David rushing to the rescue on more than one occasion, a hug from Therese, young Amy keeping Jane and Vic endlessly entertained back in the day; a teenage Kristen helping Jane on summer mornings after Vic had passed.

Jane loved, and was loved in return, by her numerous cousins, especially Bud and Mildred Joerimann, Robert Hansen, Beverly Swift, Thelma Burns and Hilda Bruinsma and (next generation!) Linda Wright Romano; as well as many first-generation nieces and nephews, some of whom are the late John, Kris and Kristine Vanderwall; Mary Barber; Gary, Larry and the late Gene E. Glazener; Eugene, Cleta and the late Vick Ashmead; Ron and Patsy Glazener; and, of course, all of the many descendents including thoughtful Mary Miya and Nancy Glazener among others (Jane was honored to be a great-great-great auntie, saying it was her utmost joy and awesome privilege to be “Aunt Jane” to the whole of her large, extended family).

It cannot be understated how important her patient-doctor relationship was with her longtime primary care physician, Dr. Michael Swartout.  If she could have had another son besides her own and Ron, it would have been Dr. Swartout.  Over more than thirty years, he saw her through some of the toughest times in her life, and his unceasing medical care and expertise gave Jane a life well into a very old age when she might have passed on years earlier from her extremely-difficult and hard-to-manage, chronic health problems.  Jane had a lot of grit and a self-admitted hard head, but Dr. Swartout was the third person in her life beyond her husband and son-in-law whose sound advice she would listen to and heed.  She worshipped Dr. Swartout and would share his annual holiday letter well into March, pointing out photos of his kids and family as if they were her own (or preferred!) kin.    

In the final days of her life, Jane was given wonderful care at Santa Paula Hospital.  From the thorough Dr. Webb and his staff in the ER, to the thoughtful and informative physician who is Dr. Gerald Noah; the fine medical treatment and important, compassionate, critical guidance of our hero, Dr. Carl Constantine, who has intelligently and graciously seen our family through the passing of both Jane and Victor in these past five years in urgent situations at Santa Paula Hospital; familiar faces and comforting presence of ICU/CCU nurses Kirstie, Amanda, Vicki and April, as well as Colleen (always our Cinderella) and also Frances and Neriza in Med-Surg, along with the loving and attentive angel who is Elva; how can one small town be so lucky to have such a great hospital with a top-level, dedicated team of experienced employees  (human kindness personified).

Jane would be the first to say that you should make a donation to a cause or charity of your choice, should you wish to memorialize her in any way; she had decided that burial would be private, with no services held on her behalf.  

The world is mine:  blue hill, still silver lake,

Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road;

A gateless garden, and an open path;

My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.

... From “Journey” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Steven Hurtado

Our beloved son, brother, father, passed away surrounded by his loving family February 8, 2013.  Steve was born June 26, 1962 in Santa Paula where he was a lifelong resident.  He was a graduate of Santa Paula Union High School, attended Ventura College and Charter Vocational College.  Steve worked at Santa Paula Lanes and later at Procter and Gamble.

He enjoyed get away trips to Las Vegas.  An avid sports fan you would find him in front of the TV watching his favorite teams,  Notre Dame, Kansas City Chiefs, Angels and Kings.  Steve was a kind and gentle human being.  We are truly blessed to have had him in our lives and he will live forever in our hearts.

He leaves behind his parents Ben and Susan Hurtado, sister Rose Flores (husband Ralph), his brother Al Hurtado.  His beautiful daughters whom he cherished and loved with all his heart,  Courtney (Coco), Brittany (Stink), Aubree (Muk Muk), and Deilynn (Dee Dee).  His nieces Jennifer (Lefty) (husband Chris), Annissa, and Jasmine.  Nephews Christopher and Joel.  His niece and Goddaughter Susanne Marie (Susie Sioux).  Gato and Paris his furry companions.  Numerous aunts, uncles and cousins.

The family would like to thank Dr. Todd Yates and the staff at Ventura County Hematology Oncology Specialist.  The 6th floor nurses and techs at Community Memorial Hospital.  Lori Anne Fulmer, the mother of his girls for her kindness and support. A special thank you to Teresa Estrella for her exceptional care, kind heart and their friendship that grew during his illness, and last but not least, to his niece Jennifer for her loving, caring devotion to her uncle.

God saw that he was 

getting tired,

A cure was not to be.

So he put his arms around him and whispered 

“come with me.”

With tearful eyes we watched him suffer,

And saw him fade away.

Although we loved him dearly we could not