I have watched with sadness the TV footage of the devastation done to Puerto Rico by Hurricane Maria, trying to recognize streets and places I once knew very well. But there isn’t much left to recognize.

I was three years in Puerto Rico as the Caribbean correspondent for The Associated Press from 1967-1970. At the time, I was reluctant to take the assignment because I’d applied to be a foreign correspondent, imagining Mexico City or Bueos Aires, and this dinky little island, scarcely the size of Long Island, wasn’t even a country.

I left New York in a January blizzard and arrived in San Juan sweltering in my jacket in the warm sunshine and balmy Caribbean breezes. I fell I love with the island almost immediately.

Of course, I was there in privileged status as a norteamericano. We in the States call Puerto Rico a territory; in Puerto Rico, they official know themselves as a commonwealth. Bottom line, however, is Puerto Rico is an American colony. We seized it from Spain in 1898 as one of the spoils of the Spanish-American war, and have occupied it ever since

(Possible small item of interest to Oregonians: the Battleship Oregon battered holes in the thick walls of El Morro fortress at the entrance to San Juan Bay during the war. The Spanish-built fortress’ walls have since been repaired, and the fortress is open to visitors. I played baseball with sons Deston and Jeffrey on the extensive grounds of El Morro, which was just a few blocks from where we lived.)

When I was there, we had military installations all over the island, including a major naval base at Roosevelt Roads, and, over the objections of most Puerto Ricans, used one small island, Vieques, as a bombing range. We no longer bomb Vieques, and Roosevelt Roads is no longer a Navy base; some other installations have also closed.

My privileges were many. With my correspondent’s salary, I was well able to afford to rent a nice Spanish-built home of foot-thick walls in historic Old San Juan. I had a company-owned car, money for private schools for the boys, and free passes to everything, including the island’s lush and expensive golf courses, and the Casals Festival, and everything else worth attending. I played tennis on the grounds of the U.S. Naval Station and had access to exclusive white sand beach at the Army-Navy club (not entirely sure that was it’s name). Few Puerto Ricans lived that way; I knew it, and they knew it.

I had many friends, some very close, but never so close that the differences in status were completely erased. One very clear reminder of the differences was this: While Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens, and can freely travel to the United States and back, they can’t vote for President and are denied a voting representative in Congress. They’ve also been subject to the draft.

My memories of the island are warm. One of the many treasured recollections was being invited to a street party at the home of Dona Felisa Rincon de Gautier, or Dona Fela (dona has a tilde), the mayor of San Juan for 22 years. The party was in honor of the 90th birthday of the late Spanish cellist, Pablo Casals, who lived in Puerto Rico. The street was blocked, filled with dancing and music. The then-fragile Casals sat in the doorway to Dona Fela’s home, greeting well-wishers and watching the festivities.

Another experience, startling in its contrast, was being invited to fly around the Caribbean with one of the Navy Blue Angels prior to a San Juan air show.

There has been, and still is, a great deal of pro-independence sentiment, some of it involving considerable violence. While I was there, a series of major bombings at American-owned banks and businesses and communication towers rocked the island. Two U.S. sailors were shot dead on a San Juan street. I once opened an envelope addressed to me containing two .38 caliber bullets—no message, but warning enough, I guess—which I turned over to the FBI.

There is also a great deal of pro-statehood sentiment. The current governor, Ricardo Rosello, favors statehood.

I hope Americans and the U.S. government recognize that we have a special responsibility to help repair this battered island, which already was saddled with huge indebtedness and a crippled economy. So far it appears we are responding. I was impressed to read New York Governor Andrew Cuomo flew down with a plane full of assistance. But getting that power grid back up will be crucial to the recovery.

I was sad to leave Puerto Rico. My next assignment was Buenos Aires, which I didn’t like nearly so much.