Patricia Valadez's past life of glamour can be found in a tattered black leather portfolio, filled with head shots and other photographs from her days as a performer.
Last summer, Ms. Valadez endured a bedbug infestation in her apartment, which compelled her to throw away all her furniture, clothing and most other belongings. The portfolio survived the purge because she had already given it away to her daughter.
Ms. Valadez has chronic depression. For several years before the bedbugs arrived, she had been spending much of her time at home, going out only to buy food or to visit her daughter and granddaughter. ''I'm a recluse,'' she said. ''Well, not anymore, not after this.''
While Ms. Valadez received emotional support from neighbors and friends, the bedbugs set her back financially and left her emotionally and physically exhausted, she said. It does not show: at 61, Ms. Valadez still has a striking appearance.
Ms. Valadez, born in Mexico City, became a naturalized citizen after arriving in the United States with her mother shortly before her first birthday. (Her estranged father never left Mexico City.)
Mother and daughter spent much of their lives in the Upper West Side, the neighborhood where Ms. Valadez still lives and is reluctant to travel far from.

It is easy to imagine her as a cabaret dancer on the New York scene in the late 1970s and early 1980s. She performed in variety shows, in dinner theater and as part of a dance troupe at Carnegie Hall before pursuing a solo career as a jazz singer. She knew people on the club circuit in Miami and lived there in the mid-'80s. She also spent time singing in Mexico and Puerto Rico and traveled farther afield, to Morocco among other places.
''You always look beautiful, you're a blessing to the world; keep on doing what you're doing,'' a passer-by said as Ms. Valadez and Luna, her pit bull, began their morning walk.
''I'm kind of a legend around here,'' she explained.

At 40, Ms. Valadez decided to start over. At Hunter College, she earned a bachelor's degree in psychology and sociology, and she went on to counsel prisoners at Arthur Kill Correctional Facility in Staten Island and Bayview Correctional Facility in Manhattan. She specialized in behavior modification and substance abuse.
''It worked out really well, but I burned out after a year,'' she said.
She later became the director of development at Iris House in Manhattan, a center for H.I.V.-affected women and their families, and was involved with nonprofits helping Haitians in New York.
About 2003, she said, the depression she has fought her whole life started to win. She became unable to work; she went out less and less. Today, she is slowly crawling out of that deep hole of mental illness.
''Life has a way of forcing change,'' she said. ''I'm no longer a recluse; I get dressed and I put makeup on.''
These days, the rhythm of her life is set by Luna and her routine of daily walks. At her public housing complex, she is a member of the tenants' association and the tenant patrol watch. Ms. Valadez, who lives on $761 a month in Supplemental Security Income and receives $200 a month in food stamps, can afford her $250 rent and cover necessities, but the need to replace many household items at once after the bedbug infestation was far beyond her means.
Her therapist at the Service Program for Older People told her about The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund and helped her submit a proposal to the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, one of the fund's seven beneficiary agencies.
The fund provided Ms. Valadez with $1,000 to buy new bedding and clothes.
She is grateful but wistful. ''It's hard to get back to normal when everything is brand-new and all the old stuff is gone,'' she said.
HOW TO HELP: Checks payable to The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund may be sent to 4 Chase Metrotech Center, 7th Floor East, Lockbox 5193, Brooklyn, N.Y. 11245. All gifts are acknowledged; special letters are not possible. A check intended for a particular agency should be written to and mailed to the agency, noting that it is a Neediest Cases gift. BROOKLYN COMMUNITY SERVICES 285 Schermerhorn Street Brooklyn, N.Y. 11217 CATHOLIC CHARITIES BROOKLYN AND QUEENS 191 Joralemon Street Brooklyn, N.Y. 11201 CATHOLIC CHARITIES ARCHDIOCESE OF NEW YORK 1011 First Avenue New York, N.Y. 10022 CHILDREN'S AID SOCIETY 105 East 22nd Street New York, N.Y. 10010 COMMUNITY SERVICE SOCIETY OF NEW YORK 105 East 22nd Street New York, N.Y. 10010 FEDERATION OF PROTESTANT WELFARE AGENCIES 281 Park Avenue South New York, N.Y. 10010 UJA-FEDERATION OF NEW YORK Church Street Station P.O. Box 4100 New York, N.Y. 10261-4100 Donations may be made with a credit card by phone at (800) 381-0075 or online, courtesy of NYCharities.org at nytimes.com/neediest or nycharities.org/neediest. For instructions on how to donate stock to the fund, call (212) 556-1137 or fax (212) 556- 1979. No agents or solicitors are authorized to seek contributions for The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund. The Times pays the fund's expenses, so all contributions go directly to the charities, which use them to provide services and cash assistance to the poor. Contributions are deductible from federal, state and city income taxes to the extent permitted by law. To delay may mean to forget.
PHOTO: Patricia Valadez, with her dog, Luna, has chronic depression. (PHOTOGRAPH BY ÁNGEL FRANCO/THE NEW YORK TIMES)
CHART: Previously recorded $3,490,900 Recorded Wed. 131,492 Total $3,622,392 Last year to date $4,023,954

View the original article here

Patricia Valadez's past life of glamour can be found in a tattered black leather portfolio, filled with head shots and other photographs from her days as a performer.
Last summer, Ms. Valadez endured a bedbug infestation in her apartment, which compelled her to throw away all her furniture, clothing and most other belongings. The portfolio survived the purge because she had already given it away to her daughter.
Ms. Valadez has chronic depression. For several years before the bedbugs arrived, she had been spending much of her time at home, going out only to buy food or to visit her daughter and granddaughter. ''I'm a recluse,'' she said. ''Well, not anymore, not after this.''
While Ms. Valadez received emotional support from neighbors and friends, the bedbugs set her back financially and left her emotionally and physically exhausted, she said. It does not show: at 61, Ms. Valadez still has a striking appearance.
Ms. Valadez, born in Mexico City, became a naturalized citizen after arriving in the United States with her mother shortly before her first birthday. (Her estranged father never left Mexico City.)
Mother and daughter spent much of their lives in the Upper West Side, the neighborhood where Ms. Valadez still lives and is reluctant to travel far from.

It is easy to imagine her as a cabaret dancer on the New York scene in the late 1970s and early 1980s. She performed in variety shows, in dinner theater and as part of a dance troupe at Carnegie Hall before pursuing a solo career as a jazz singer. She knew people on the club circuit in Miami and lived there in the mid-'80s. She also spent time singing in Mexico and Puerto Rico and traveled farther afield, to Morocco among other places.
''You always look beautiful, you're a blessing to the world; keep on doing what you're doing,'' a passer-by said as Ms. Valadez and Luna, her pit bull, began their morning walk.
''I'm kind of a legend around here,'' she explained.

At 40, Ms. Valadez decided to start over. At Hunter College, she earned a bachelor's degree in psychology and sociology, and she went on to counsel prisoners at Arthur Kill Correctional Facility in Staten Island and Bayview Correctional Facility in Manhattan. She specialized in behavior modification and substance abuse.
''It worked out really well, but I burned out after a year,'' she said.
She later became the director of development at Iris House in Manhattan, a center for H.I.V.-affected women and their families, and was involved with nonprofits helping Haitians in New York.
About 2003, she said, the depression she has fought her whole life started to win. She became unable to work; she went out less and less. Today, she is slowly crawling out of that deep hole of mental illness.
''Life has a way of forcing change,'' she said. ''I'm no longer a recluse; I get dressed and I put makeup on.''
These days, the rhythm of her life is set by Luna and her routine of daily walks. At her public housing complex, she is a member of the tenants' association and the tenant patrol watch. Ms. Valadez, who lives on $761 a month in Supplemental Security Income and receives $200 a month in food stamps, can afford her $250 rent and cover necessities, but the need to replace many household items at once after the bedbug infestation was far beyond her means.
Her therapist at the Service Program for Older People told her about The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund and helped her submit a proposal to the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, one of the fund's seven beneficiary agencies.
The fund provided Ms. Valadez with $1,000 to buy new bedding and clothes.
She is grateful but wistful. ''It's hard to get back to normal when everything is brand-new and all the old stuff is gone,'' she said.
HOW TO HELP: Checks payable to The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund may be sent to 4 Chase Metrotech Center, 7th Floor East, Lockbox 5193, Brooklyn, N.Y. 11245. All gifts are acknowledged; special letters are not possible. A check intended for a particular agency should be written to and mailed to the agency, noting that it is a Neediest Cases gift. BROOKLYN COMMUNITY SERVICES 285 Schermerhorn Street Brooklyn, N.Y. 11217 CATHOLIC CHARITIES BROOKLYN AND QUEENS 191 Joralemon Street Brooklyn, N.Y. 11201 CATHOLIC CHARITIES ARCHDIOCESE OF NEW YORK 1011 First Avenue New York, N.Y. 10022 CHILDREN'S AID SOCIETY 105 East 22nd Street New York, N.Y. 10010 COMMUNITY SERVICE SOCIETY OF NEW YORK 105 East 22nd Street New York, N.Y. 10010 FEDERATION OF PROTESTANT WELFARE AGENCIES 281 Park Avenue South New York, N.Y. 10010 UJA-FEDERATION OF NEW YORK Church Street Station P.O. Box 4100 New York, N.Y. 10261-4100 Donations may be made with a credit card by phone at (800) 381-0075 or online, courtesy of NYCharities.org at nytimes.com/neediest or nycharities.org/neediest. For instructions on how to donate stock to the fund, call (212) 556-1137 or fax (212) 556- 1979. No agents or solicitors are authorized to seek contributions for The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund. The Times pays the fund's expenses, so all contributions go directly to the charities, which use them to provide services and cash assistance to the poor. Contributions are deductible from federal, state and city income taxes to the extent permitted by law. To delay may mean to forget.
PHOTO: Patricia Valadez, with her dog, Luna, has chronic depression. (PHOTOGRAPH BY ÁNGEL FRANCO/THE NEW YORK TIMES)
CHART: Previously recorded $3,490,900 Recorded Wed. 131,492 Total $3,622,392 Last year to date $4,023,954

View the original article here

There is one of Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg wearing a T-shirt that protests the construction of the West Side stadium. It was a project that he, in fact, supported — and one that Ms. Bermúdez, who lives in the neighborhood that would have been affected, did not.

“I made him much more handsome than he is,” Ms. Bermúdez, 66, said.

There is one of Christie, her dachshund. And there is one of a woman asleep, unaware of the bedbugs that have invaded her apartment.

Ms. Bermúdez cited Frida Kahlo as one of her inspirations, mentioning Kahlo’s vibrant use of color, but resisted further comparisons.

“My life is much fuller than hers,” she said. “I don’t have that much sadness in my life.”

In mid-March of 2001, Ms. Bermúdez, then a designer, arrived for work at a bridal-wear company in the garment district. As she started across the workroom floor, she slipped, slamming her right shoulder against a metal door handle.

The resulting injury, which broke her upper arm in three places, required the insertion of metal rods in her shoulder and two years of physical therapy.

“I couldn’t even pick up a cup,” she recalled. “I still don’t have full-range motion of my arm.”

Her accident, Ms. Bermúdez said, coincided with a protracted legal dispute with her landlord, as she struggled to retain the third-floor apartment on West 34th Street where she has lived since she was 26.

During this period, she said, she was not notified of a rent increase, which eventually put her thousands of dollars in debt.

Housing court records show at least three lawsuits filed against Ms. Bermúdez. The most recent indicates that in 2004, she agreed to pay a total of $14,093.45 for “all rents prior to April 2001” and “for the period April 1, 2001, through Sept. 30, 2004.”

After her accident, Ms. Bermúdez had no steady source of income. And while workers’ compensation covered the cost of her hospital bills, years of legal fees had chipped away at her savings.

No longer able to afford a lawyer, Ms. Bermúdez turned to Housing Conservation Coordinators, which offered legal guidance necessary to help settle her debt. With money from several social service organizations, including the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, which gave her $1,500 toward her arrears, she said she managed to come up with most of the remaining sum.

Now, because of New York State’s Senior Citizen Rent Increase Exemption program, her rent is frozen at $1,021. But she still lives on a tight budget, with just under $1,000 in federal aid, including Social Security, plus $500 her older sister sends her each month.

And then, a little over a year ago, the bedbugs arrived.

In October 2009, she woke up to find bites all over her body. She immediately discarded her sofa and mattress.

Ms. Bermúdez said she spent about $3,000 repeatedly washing clothes and buying the necessary cleaning supplies.

In October 2010, long after her apartment had been exterminated and she was certain she no longer had bedbugs, she again turned to the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, one of the seven beneficiary agencies of The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund. With $620, Ms. Bermúdez bought a new sofa.

Financially, she says, she is just getting by. Still, Ms. Bermúdez contends that she considers herself lucky, reasoning that there are people far worse off.

“I always say my life is like the Internet,” she said. “You put in what you want, and the universe gives it to you.”

View the original article here

There is one of Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg wearing a T-shirt that protests the construction of the West Side stadium. It was a project that he, in fact, supported — and one that Ms. Bermúdez, who lives in the neighborhood that would have been affected, did not.

“I made him much more handsome than he is,” Ms. Bermúdez, 66, said.

There is one of Christie, her dachshund. And there is one of a woman asleep, unaware of the bedbugs that have invaded her apartment.

Ms. Bermúdez cited Frida Kahlo as one of her inspirations, mentioning Kahlo’s vibrant use of color, but resisted further comparisons.

“My life is much fuller than hers,” she said. “I don’t have that much sadness in my life.”

In mid-March of 2001, Ms. Bermúdez, then a designer, arrived for work at a bridal-wear company in the garment district. As she started across the workroom floor, she slipped, slamming her right shoulder against a metal door handle.

The resulting injury, which broke her upper arm in three places, required the insertion of metal rods in her shoulder and two years of physical therapy.

“I couldn’t even pick up a cup,” she recalled. “I still don’t have full-range motion of my arm.”

Her accident, Ms. Bermúdez said, coincided with a protracted legal dispute with her landlord, as she struggled to retain the third-floor apartment on West 34th Street where she has lived since she was 26.

During this period, she said, she was not notified of a rent increase, which eventually put her thousands of dollars in debt.

Housing court records show at least three lawsuits filed against Ms. Bermúdez. The most recent indicates that in 2004, she agreed to pay a total of $14,093.45 for “all rents prior to April 2001” and “for the period April 1, 2001, through Sept. 30, 2004.”

After her accident, Ms. Bermúdez had no steady source of income. And while workers’ compensation covered the cost of her hospital bills, years of legal fees had chipped away at her savings.

No longer able to afford a lawyer, Ms. Bermúdez turned to Housing Conservation Coordinators, which offered legal guidance necessary to help settle her debt. With money from several social service organizations, including the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, which gave her $1,500 toward her arrears, she said she managed to come up with most of the remaining sum.

Now, because of New York State’s Senior Citizen Rent Increase Exemption program, her rent is frozen at $1,021. But she still lives on a tight budget, with just under $1,000 in federal aid, including Social Security, plus $500 her older sister sends her each month.

And then, a little over a year ago, the bedbugs arrived.

In October 2009, she woke up to find bites all over her body. She immediately discarded her sofa and mattress.

Ms. Bermúdez said she spent about $3,000 repeatedly washing clothes and buying the necessary cleaning supplies.

In October 2010, long after her apartment had been exterminated and she was certain she no longer had bedbugs, she again turned to the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, one of the seven beneficiary agencies of The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund. With $620, Ms. Bermúdez bought a new sofa.

Financially, she says, she is just getting by. Still, Ms. Bermúdez contends that she considers herself lucky, reasoning that there are people far worse off.

“I always say my life is like the Internet,” she said. “You put in what you want, and the universe gives it to you.”

View the original article here

Last summer, Ms. Valadez endured a bedbug infestation in her apartment, which compelled her to throw away all her furniture, clothing and most other belongings. The portfolio survived the purge because she had already given it away to her daughter.

Ms. Valadez has chronic depression. For several years before the bedbugs arrived, she had been spending much of her time at home, going out only to buy food or to visit her daughter and granddaughter. “I’m a recluse,” she said. “Well, not anymore, not after this.”

While Ms. Valadez received emotional support from neighbors and friends, the bedbugs set her back financially and left her emotionally and physically exhausted, she said. It does not show: at 61, Ms. Valadez still has a striking appearance.

Ms. Valadez, born in Mexico City, became a naturalized citizen after arriving in the United States with her mother shortly before her first birthday. (Her estranged father never left Mexico City.)

Mother and daughter spent much of their lives in the Upper West Side, the neighborhood where Ms. Valadez still lives and is reluctant to travel far from.

It is easy to imagine her as a cabaret dancer on the New York scene in the late 1970s and early 1980s. She performed in variety shows, in dinner theater and as part of a dance troupe at Carnegie Hall before pursuing a solo career as a jazz singer. She knew people on the club circuit in Miami and lived there in the mid-’80s. She also spent time singing in Mexico and Puerto Rico and traveled farther afield, to Morocco among other places.

“You always look beautiful, you’re a blessing to the world; keep on doing what you’re doing,” a passer-by said as Ms. Valadez and Luna, her pit bull, began their morning walk.

“I’m kind of a legend around here,” she explained.

At 40, Ms. Valadez decided to start over. At Hunter College, she earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology and sociology, and she went on to counsel prisoners at Arthur Kill Correctional Facility in Staten Island and Bayview Correctional Facility in Manhattan. She specialized in behavior modification and substance abuse.

“It worked out really well, but I burned out after a year,” she said.

She later became the director of development at Iris House in Manhattan, a center for H.I.V.-affected women and their families, and was involved with nonprofits helping Haitians in New York.

About 2003, she said, the depression she has fought her whole life started to win. She became unable to work; she went out less and less. Today, she is slowly crawling out of that deep hole of mental illness.

“Life has a way of forcing change,” she said. “I’m no longer a recluse; I get dressed and I put makeup on.”

These days, the rhythm of her life is set by Luna and her routine of daily walks. At her public housing complex, she is a member of the tenants’ association and the tenant patrol watch. Ms. Valadez, who lives on $761 a month in Supplemental Security Income and receives $200 a month in food stamps, can afford her $250 rent and cover necessities, but the need to replace many household items at once after the bedbug infestation was far beyond her means.

Her therapist at the Service Program for Older People told her about The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund and helped her submit a proposal to the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, one of the fund’s seven beneficiary agencies.

The fund provided Ms. Valadez with $1,000 to buy new bedding and clothes.

She is grateful but wistful. “It’s hard to get back to normal when everything is brand-new and all the old stuff is gone,” she said.

View the original article here

Last summer, Ms. Valadez endured a bedbug infestation in her apartment, which compelled her to throw away all her furniture, clothing and most other belongings. The portfolio survived the purge because she had already given it away to her daughter.

Ms. Valadez has chronic depression. For several years before the bedbugs arrived, she had been spending much of her time at home, going out only to buy food or to visit her daughter and granddaughter. “I’m a recluse,” she said. “Well, not anymore, not after this.”

While Ms. Valadez received emotional support from neighbors and friends, the bedbugs set her back financially and left her emotionally and physically exhausted, she said. It does not show: at 61, Ms. Valadez still has a striking appearance.

Ms. Valadez, born in Mexico City, became a naturalized citizen after arriving in the United States with her mother shortly before her first birthday. (Her estranged father never left Mexico City.)

Mother and daughter spent much of their lives in the Upper West Side, the neighborhood where Ms. Valadez still lives and is reluctant to travel far from.

It is easy to imagine her as a cabaret dancer on the New York scene in the late 1970s and early 1980s. She performed in variety shows, in dinner theater and as part of a dance troupe at Carnegie Hall before pursuing a solo career as a jazz singer. She knew people on the club circuit in Miami and lived there in the mid-’80s. She also spent time singing in Mexico and Puerto Rico and traveled farther afield, to Morocco among other places.

“You always look beautiful, you’re a blessing to the world; keep on doing what you’re doing,” a passer-by said as Ms. Valadez and Luna, her pit bull, began their morning walk.

“I’m kind of a legend around here,” she explained.

At 40, Ms. Valadez decided to start over. At Hunter College, she earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology and sociology, and she went on to counsel prisoners at Arthur Kill Correctional Facility in Staten Island and Bayview Correctional Facility in Manhattan. She specialized in behavior modification and substance abuse.

“It worked out really well, but I burned out after a year,” she said.

She later became the director of development at Iris House in Manhattan, a center for H.I.V.-affected women and their families, and was involved with nonprofits helping Haitians in New York.

About 2003, she said, the depression she has fought her whole life started to win. She became unable to work; she went out less and less. Today, she is slowly crawling out of that deep hole of mental illness.

“Life has a way of forcing change,” she said. “I’m no longer a recluse; I get dressed and I put makeup on.”

These days, the rhythm of her life is set by Luna and her routine of daily walks. At her public housing complex, she is a member of the tenants’ association and the tenant patrol watch. Ms. Valadez, who lives on $761 a month in Supplemental Security Income and receives $200 a month in food stamps, can afford her $250 rent and cover necessities, but the need to replace many household items at once after the bedbug infestation was far beyond her means.

Her therapist at the Service Program for Older People told her about The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund and helped her submit a proposal to the Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, one of the fund’s seven beneficiary agencies.

The fund provided Ms. Valadez with $1,000 to buy new bedding and clothes.

She is grateful but wistful. “It’s hard to get back to normal when everything is brand-new and all the old stuff is gone,” she said.

View the original article here