No one really knows for sure when he came to the pueblo, but most folk think he came from Italy. Some say that he inherited a certain wealth from his family and simply chose to enjoy it in his adopted hometown. Others, who tend toward negative gossip, say he was a Mafioso and was hiding from the executioner. Strangely, no matter which faction tells the story, his life in the pueblo is painted with the same admiring brush.
He was known simply as Jordan, which everyone pronounces as Jor-DAN. He built a rather large house with separate guest quarters on the edge of town. The house wasn't much larger than most homes in the pueblo but it is a small hotel today. He had a certain understanding of electronics, which allowed him to repair vacuum tube radios and televisions. He rented a small locale near the main plaza and offered his services to the townsfolk.
By most accounts he charged according to the ability to pay. If someone from a poor family brought in a radio needing medical attention he would always seem to have "spare parts" which were just what the doctor ordered. But should the family have money he would charge the going rate. This earned him the respect of the poor and the well-to-do alike. It is this singular fact that makes the story of JorDAN so interesting.
At the time there were very few extranjeros living in the pueblo. Most of the others were tolerated but certainly not respected. JorDAN was not only respected but loved. He was respected for being fair but he was loved because he made himself part of the pueblo. Nearly every story about JorDAN mentions that he always said, "Adios" or "Buenas Noches" as he passed. If there was a to do at the plaza he came. Not only would he come, but if there was music, it would be JorDAN and his wife who would begin dancing and then exhort everyone else to join in. He attended church services even though by some accounts he was not Catholic. He was an invitee to every party and he always showed up respectably late bearing appropriate goodies. He never flaunted his status but shared it when disaster struck.
His passing was understandably lamented by the entire poblacion. He is buried in the panteon, just west of the pueblo. After his death his wife left for home and was never heard from again. It appears she felt he should be left to rest with the people he loved.
Today, whenever anyone is reminiscing about the good old days and the subject of JorDAN comes up, it raises comments about the type of visitors who now inhabit the community.
"Oooo, the other day that guy who drives such- and-such a car came in to the mercado and just walked right by without even saying adios or anything. I guess he doesn't like Mexicans
Or
"The other day a lady was buying meat and she thought it was too expensive. If she's going to bitch about how much things cost she should go back home."
Or
"Yesterday some guy came into the bank and tried to take money out of his wife's account because she's sick. My English isn't so good but I tried to explain that I couldn't do that because his wife was the only one who could sign for that account so he started yelling and screaming like he was mad. The manager finally took him to the back and settled him down. I hope I never have to deal with him again."
Or
"There's this couple who come in the restaurant all the time with their friends. They never ask for separate checks but when it comes time to pay they start to argue about who had what and who owes how much. They're so cheap and you know they have money. They just don't want to spend it."
Or
"There's one lady who is always saying, 'We should remember that we are the visitors here.' I wish she'd realize that she LIVES here.
Comments like these are always followed by the wistful, "I wish they could've known JorDAN.
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