GABRIEL AND TERE REYES: Bridging two worlds to help the community |
The morning I knocked on Gabe and Tere Reyes' door for our interview, it opened to a flurry.
"Ita," an endearment for Abuelita (Grandmother) Maria, age 96, had recently broken bones in a fall and moved into the house to recover. An in-home services nurse was expected at any moment, two of Gabe's sisters were on hand to participate in the nurse consultation, a darling 4-year-old girl whisked and twirled from room to room, and infant twin boys bounced wildly in their swing seats.
All the commotion was just part of an ordinary day in this Lenexa home, in which many loving members of many generations support each other day in, day out. They make a joyful noise.
Gabriel ("Gabe") and Teresa ("Tere") Reyes, born and raised in Mexico, have been married for 43 years and have called Johnson County home for 37. They're solidly anchored in American culture, pivotal members of Whispering Hills and of their broader community—yet their Mexican heritage flourishes, manifesting in their daily interactions within the community. And their bilingualism is the bridge that keeps them tied to the old world and serving an indispensible role in the new.
Gabriel
By the time he was in his teens, he was working from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. in a retail store for employees of Mexican Social Security, or with his father in a mechanic's shop, refurbishing crankshafts, and then attending night high school from 5:00 to 11:00 p.m. The goal was to move beyond the kind of life in which his parents had scratched by.
"My dad had lived in Chicago before he got married and knew someone who could sponsor him, guaranteeing that he'd have a job, so he and my oldest brother, John, traveled by bus to Chicago in 1956," Gabe said. "The plan was for them to get things ready to bring the rest of the family, and in 1957 our mom and the other six kids flew to Chicago."
New life for a big family in a new country in a new city
Father, mother, four brothers, three sisters in Chicago.
"For the first time we had a television, saw snow, had a car, felt cold weather," Gabe recalled.
Father John and sons Juan Jose and Gabe worked at the Elgin Tool Works, a lathe manufacturing shop. In the evening they went to school to learn English along with other family members. Sisters Martha and Aurora cleaned classrooms and performed office duties at Immaculata High School before each one started school, earning money to help pay for tuition. Other brothers Francisco and Jaime started high school.
During that first year in the United States, one sister, Lourdes, died in Chicago from a brain aneurism.
"Our family was 'adopted' by Immaculata High School for the Christmas holiday so that we could get some food and presents," Gabe said.
There he was, a stranger in a strange land—speaking only a smattering of English. The jobs he held in that first year in the United States included helping an uncle with janitorial duties at the De Paul University priests' residence; selling newspapers on Sundays in the middle of winter on the steps of Our Lady of the Lake Church in a makeshift stand with a portable heater; and working at Elgin until he was laid off due to lack of work.
When the family members were admitted into the United States, Gabe was told by immigration that as soon as he turned 18, he should register with the Selective Service—so in 1958 he enlisted for a three-year military stint. Unlike most soldiers, he knew very little English so it was do or die, and he was bounced around: Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri, Fort Gordon in Georgia, Seattle, a troop ship to Yokohama, Japan.
He eventually landed at Inchon, Korea, where he served for 13 months.
Fortunately he didn't have to suffer through any conflicts, and he was able to earn his high school diploma through a GED program while in the service and visit Japan during one of his rest and recuperation leaves.
Thinking about a more prosperous future, Gabe saved some of his military pay. When he was discharged from the Army, he had enough money to enroll in the National Automation Institute in Chicago and learn how to wire and work with the earliest computers, known as "tabulating machines." He also took courses in accounting and business administration at the University of Chicago and a neighborhood YMCA.
Fairly quickly, Amoco (then the Standard Oil Co.) hired Gabe as a tabulating operator, and it was with Amoco that he spent his entire career—as loyal to the firm as it was to him.
"A man at Amoco named Oliver Stern was my 'godfather,' my 'guardian,'" Gabe said. "He was a wonderful mentor, and we still keep in touch."
On March 18, 1969, under the sponsorship of Gabe's supervisor, a man named Marty Rogowski, he became a naturalized citizen.
Gabe rose within the organization, with promotions to data processing manager, accounting manager, and credit manager. Those promotions meant several moves, from Chicago to Kansas City to Des Moines, before he finally retired in 1996.
"At that point Amoco was moving to Tulsa," Gabe said, "but I had 34 years with the company and that was enough. I said 'No more moves!'"
Returning to Kansas City as a retiree meant carefully planning the spot where Gabe and his wife would live next.
"When we were in Kansas City the first time, from 1974 to 1988, we saw Whispering Hills and hoped we could have a place of our own here someday," Gabe said of the development in which he and Tere live. "We bought land and hired a contractor who was willing to use architectural plans we had brought from a Des Moines home we loved."
Their sprawling house is perfect for all the people who come and go, and the surrounding woods, pathways, and lake create a serene setting they both treasure.
Teresa
Teresa Caparros was born in Mexico City to a family with four children and parents who worked in the restaurant business. While a young woman, she worked as a bank cashier and later in a department store, El Palacio de Hierro.
When she was just 21, Tere's father and brother both died. Grieving and at loose ends, Tere was invited by Gabe's sister to visit her parents in Chicago.
During her weeklong stay, Tere had numerous chances to meet and connect with young Gabe Reyes and his sister's family.
"He was a very private guy," Tere recalled. "He had a dry sense of humor, but he kept a lot to himself, always hanging out with the horses, never mingling much."
That was in the beginning. But something in Tere's high-spiritedness drew Gabe out of his shell, and for much of her visit he was near her side. When she returned to Mexico, they stayed in touch with letters (phone calls were too expensive, and she had to go to a neighbor's home even to use the phone), and twice he flew down to visit her.
On July 27, 1968, about a decade after Gabe arrived in Chicago, they married in Mexico City.
"Our honeymoon consisted of Gabe driving me and my belongings to Chicago," Tere recalled. "I left my family behind, I couldn't speak one word of English, I couldn't understand the American radio or TV."
But Tere wasn't alone. Gabe's mother taught her how to get around by bus, and Ita looked after her two grandchildren often, becoming firmly established as the family's matriarch.
Language as a gift to the community
While the couple lived in Des Moines, Tere also worked for Amoco, servicing accounts receivable for the State of Florida, where the Hispanic clientele needed her language ability.
Now we beam forward to when Gabe and Tere settled at last in Johnson County. On May 17, 1988, Tere received her GED diploma through Johnson County Community College and started working with the Shawnee Mission School District, where she was a kitchen manager and later a teacher's aide teaching English as a second language to Spanish-speaking school children. Often she was asked to interpret with Hispanic families. Tere became a naturalized citizen on Dec. 18, 1979.
"It was a bilingual world for us from very early on!" Tere said.
About a decade ago, Gabe also started interpreting when the school district needed assistance at parent-teacher conferences, during enrollment, or with families of troubled kids who had behavior problems (for hearings on expulsions and suspensions). The district values Gabe's work because, like Tere, he is sensitive, gentle, and professional. He cares about people and wants to make sure that all important communication is clear and fair.
Gabe also interprets for Propio Language Services, a translation agency that sends him to the Johnson County Health and Mental Health departments or to hospitals. He also fields calls from all over the United States dealing with the medical profession, in hospitals and doctor's offices, and with unemployment, family services, insurance companies, Medicaid, etc. He just completed a set of courses that will allow him to interpret for situations involving domestic violence and mental health issues. Previously he took a course called Bridging the Gap for Medical Interpreters.
At Gabe's level of interpreting and translating, training and high standards are crucial.
"An interpreter/translator needs to be well-versed in ethics and differing cultures," Gabe said. "Also needed are professionalism, respect, gaining the confidence of both parties, and adherence to confidentiality and privacy. We need to understand that we are a communication conduit, and that we cannot get involved in the issue we're translating."
With plenty of free time and ever-better skills, he says, "I'll continue to translate as long as I make sense!"
Time for play
The Reyes' have two children—Sandra Hansen and her husband, Brian, of Overland Park, and their children Emme (4), and twins Jakob, and Joseph (9 months); and Jorge Antonio Reyes, of Jupiter, Fla. For the three grandchildren, Gabe and Tere's home is as familiar, comfortable, and welcome as their own.
Tere and Gabe enjoy travel. Gabe and son Jorge, a rugby player for KU when he was a student, visited and played rugby in Ireland. Two years later Gabe spent three weeks in South Africa with Sandra while Jorge played rugby again.
"Segregation was still strong there," Gabe recalled. "Native people were abused and discriminated against."
Several years ago, Tere, Gabe, and sister Martha traveled to Spain to visit Martha's son Roberto in Madrid and Tere's cousin Trini, whom she had never met, in Malaga. They also traveled by car through the northern coast of Spain, and then returned last year to drive the southern coast, then on to Bologna, Florence, and Rome.
They haven't seen their homeland for a few years. They're eager to return and visit loved ones, but for now they use Skype and the phone to stay connected with family.
Historically and culturally, Mexican people are tightly bound and families stay close, whether they live in proximity or thousands of miles separate them. Those who live near each other take care of each other.
"There is no way that we would have sent my mother to a rehab facility after her fall," Gabe said. "That's how it is with us. We all care for family, and we would allow family to be in a facility only if absolutely no one in the family could care for them."
"Ita" was lovingly cared for in Gabe's house by Gabe and Tere, Gabe's sisters Martha and Aurora, and other family members until her death in August—and their home has been a haven for many others in the family over the course of time.
"I don't think there's ever been a week when the two of us have lived in this house by ourselves!" Gabe said with a smile. "We wouldn't know what to do if we were left alone! In the past we have had my parents, brothers, sisters, and mother-in-law as guests, and now my sister Martha lives with us."
The life they have created suits Tere and Gabe, and they're deeply grateful for it. They voice that gratitude.
Says Gabe, "We've been very fortunate to have made many good friends, and to have obtained our ultimate dream, which was to retire without having to worry too much."
And it was only natural for Gabe and Tere to reach out, using their compassion and their language skills to help people whose well-being is more tenuous. Johnson County is a better place because of them.
