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— Memories of Manolo
Reyes
Yesterday, a face
and a voice from my childhood passed away.
Dr. Manolo Reyes, one of the first Spanish TV news
broadcasters in Miami died at the age of 83.
Since 1968, Manolo Reyes brought the news into my
home in a language my parents and grandparents could
understand. He was respected, admired, and my
mother always said that if Manolo Reyes reported it,
it had to be true.
With only one
television in the house back then, my siblings and I
were at the mercy of my parent’s viewing whims.
Sometimes we would get lucky and mom and dad would
leave us alone to watch whatever we wanted from the
vast selection of the four channels available, but
they never missed the newscast on channel 4 with
Manolo Reyes (there were actually 5 channels, but
channel 2 was, and is, public broadcasting and
forgive our uncouthness, but Masterpiece Theatre was
just not our bag).
Unfortunately,
the news of his death brought back these and other
long forgotten memories. Memories of my childhood;
of my home in Little Havana; of the smell of my
mom’s black beans sh-sh-shi-ing in the
pressure cooker. Recollections of dinnertime—always
together as a family at my father’s insistence. It
is unfortunate that I do not remember these trying,
yet happy times more often. And it is regrettable
that it takes sad news to bring these memories out
of hiding.
My childhood, along with the many kids like me, was
unlike any our parents had experienced. We lived in
a different country, we spoke a different language,
and we learned to be proud Americans. But we also
learned where our families came from and the price
they paid to provide us, their uncouth children who
preferred to watch Gilligan’s Island, the
opportunity to grow up in freedom and liberty. We
learned not only of our Cuban heritage, but to never
be ashamed of it. But the best gift our parents gave
us was the chance to grow up in freedom, and to
teach us to love this wonderful country that took us
in with the passion inherent in the Cuban heart that
beats within all of us.
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