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PC - Jesse Reyes

THE SPLENDOR OF AUTUMN:  ".....the falling leaves of red and gold"

By Jesse Reyes 

As I made a right turn from our subdivision to the adjoining street to take Devon, my grandson, to school, the leaves of many colors (not Biblical Joseph’s coat!) of several trees along the street on both sides caught my eyes.  It seemed that only two or three days ago, most of the leaves were still green and only a few leaves were starting to change in color.  I guess two or three days or nights of 40-50 degree Fahrenheit temperatures wrought havoc on the photosynthetic process occurring within the trees' internal system.

So today, three days after, I decided to take some pictures of the leaves, displaying this phenomenon--the rapid metamorphoses of their hues, for I wasn’t sure how long the leaves would stay on the trees before they fell to the ground below. Last year, if my memory fails me not, the leaves of various hues stayed only for a week or two and then quickly fell to the ground after a gusty wind.  I had to cancel all my appointments today, so I could devote and take my sweet time choosing the right location, angle, distance and composition of the shots, which I hoped would be pleasing to the sight of my many (more than 100 but less than 700!) FB friends.

First, I started around my home (although there was actually no notable activity of this nature around my house).  Some of my immediate neighbors’ trees now had leaves of reddish-orange (more towards my favorite color, fuchsia!), golden yellow, yellow-orange, amber and pinkish-red.  So I took pictures of these, using the flowers in my front yard, mostly roses and geraniums, as the foreground, my only “contribution” to the finished product, being clicking of my camera's shutter.  

I then proceeded to Walker Park, a five-minute drive from my home, and there I took pictures at a furious pace, since this was a public park and there was nobody to accost me.  I recall an episode about a week ago when I was taking pictures around the condominiums adjacent to my back yard.  A lady driving her car stopped a few inches from me and asked me what I was taking pictures of.  

“These trees with leaves of different colors are beautiful, aren’t they?” I heard myself reply. “You see I am a photojournalist,"  I continued.  She looked at me as if I was from Mars or something! 

 “You know, there has been a burglary here recently, so we are carefully monitoring our surroundings for any suspicious persons,”  she explained trying to be tactful but not being very successful at it, I thought!  I almost asked her if I looked like a person who would stoop down so low as to break the 7th commandment but I was able to hold my tongue (not literally, of course!)  

“Thanks for the info,”  I managed to blurt out and continued taking pictures.

I then went to a nearby lake, a “stone's throw away from my home”  and took pictures of the trees along the edge of the lake—there were trees with leaves of red, gold, orange, brown, yellow, amber, rust, fuchsia (I had to include this, whether you like it or not for it's my favorite color!) and combinations of these, as well as green (the evergreen conifers and weeping willows).  Their reflection on the water in the lake produced mirror images that closely resembled the trees on the ground!

In another suburb of Chicago, another lady (why is it always my fortune, or misfortune, rather, to be involved with ladies?!) walking around the neighborhood, accosted me and asked what I was doing.  I told her I was, or still am, a photojournalist and before she could utter another word, I said, “Yeah, I heard there has been a recent burglary in this area and you are just watching out for any suspicious activity, right?” She nodded, probably still unsure of what a photojournalist really was or did!  

When I went to Walker Park a few days back, I was confident that nobody would ask me what was doing, since this was a public park.  On the day I went there, many kids were out playing rugby, and as I got ready to shoot a picture of a tree nearby, a man (for a change!) approached me and inquired, “What are you taking pictures of?”  

“I am a photojournalist and I’m taking photos of these trees—see the magnificent colors of their leaves?” I said and asked him a question myself.

“Oh. I’m their teacher,” pointing to the kids, “and you know I had to ask.”  

“No, you didn’t have to ask.  Am I carrying a gun?” I answered so softly that even I couldn’t hear what I had said!

The lesson I learned from my photojournalistic adventures is to respect people's property and privacy, although I was, most of the time, taking pictures from my car and maybe only 50% of the time, would I go down from my car.   It’s better to go to a public park where you are free to do what you want and take pictures at will, although on rare occasions, a teacher of some kids having their recess activities in the park might accost you so he/she could look good in front of the kids.

Written in Burr Ridge, IL on Oct. 13, 2014. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com. Posted in FB in Oct. 2014 and reposted in Oct. 2023. Edited 10/23. Posted in my blog 10/23.

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Photo from the Internet

LESSONS LEARNED AT THE CLEANERS

By Jesse Reyes 

Last Wednesday, I drove to the cleaners to retrieve a suit and 2 barongs I had given them for dry cleaning. An attractive lady, probably in her mid forties or early fifties waited on me.

"Can I help you?" she queried.

"You definitely can." I said, handing her the claim ticket. 

"You're pretty." I commented. She blushed a little, and managed to say a weak "Thank you" quickly glancing at the lady in the next counter, to make sure she didn't hear our conversation.

"I've not seen you before. Are you new here?" I asked.

"I've been working here a couple of months. They hired me." She explained again glancing at the lady in the other counter.

"Good for them." I blurted out. She frowned a little, probably expecting me to say something different. She then went to get my clothes.

"How much do I owe you." I asked when she had returned with the clothes. She went to the computer.

"$21.90." she said firmly. I took out my wallet.

"I only have $20." I said. "Can I give you my credit card?" I asked casually.

"Sorry, we only accept cash or a check." she replied matter-of-factly. I knew that before.

"How come?" I asked, pretending to be surprised. "I'm a frequent customer here."

I was hoping she would accept the $20, since I had given her a nice compliment earlier. As she fumbled for an answer, I said, "Let me see if I have some money in my car." She nodded in relief.

"Take your time." She said as I went out the door. 

When I returned I told her I only found a  dollar. She shrugged her shoulders and didn't know what to say. She might have been debating whether to let the 90 cents slide or not.

"I'll have to come back." I said. She probably noticed my disappointment.

"Ok. I'm sorry," she managed to say but was obviously relieved.

LESSONS LEARNED OR RELEARNED:

1) "FLATTERY WILL GET YOU NOWHERE."

2) ALWAYS HAVE AT LEAST $25 IN YOUR WALLET!

Written in Chicago, IL in Oct. 2013. Posted in FB in 2013 and reposted on Oct. 2023, 10 years later.  Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.

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PC-Jesse Reyes

MY SON'S NEIGHBOR'S LOVELY TREE

By Jesse Reyes 

As I pulled up to my son's driveway, this lovely tree to my left caught my eye (both eyes actually!).  It was my son's neighbor's tree. Its leaves had all turned orange-red.  I then realized on this cool early October day, that it was already fall (although there were no leaves that had fallen to the ground as yet)—remember balladeer Nat King Cole's immortal lines, "The falling leaves drift by my window; The autumn leaves of red and gold."?

To the left of this particular tree was another tree whose leaves were still dark green.  To the right of the reddish-orange tree was another tree whose leaves were yellow-green.  Were the leaves of this tree on their way to metamorphosing to yellow or gold?

Above these trees was a patch of the azure sky with some drifting white clouds beneath.  I had to take a picture (or image as we radiologists prefer to call it) of this magnificent (to me, at least) scene.

Written in Chicago, IL on Oct. 7, 2022. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.

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A UNIQUE  “WATERFALLS” EXPERIENCE NEAR PORTLAND, 

OREGON

By Jesse Reyes 

We had the privilege of seeing a magnificent place—the Silver Falls State Park near Portland, Oregon.  Nestled in the foothills of Oregon’s Cascade Mountains, it is the largest state park in Oregon, and one of the most popular.  The sprawling 9,200 acre property is less than an hour’s drive east of Salem, Oregon’s state capital.

This lovely place is reminiscent of the place in the Cottian Alps of Northern Italy where the Waldenses practiced and protected the true faith of their predecessors, the apostles.  Kathy Demsky in her article, “Faith in the Wilderness” published in the Lake Union Herald in October of 2017, stated that “the light they (the Waldenses) preserved was seized upon by Luther and his contemporaries, and held up as the object of religious reform.”

Our gracious hosts, Dr. Frank and Maylin Warda of Happy Valley, Oregon, just outside Portland, took us to this awe-inspiring place, considered by many to be the “crown jewel” of the Oregon State Parks system.  We drove in a caravan of three cars—all of us members of Hinsdale Fil-am Church except for one lady, a former Hinsdale Fil-am Church member, now transplanted in Florida.

It was about an hour-and-a-half drive to Silverton, Oregon from the Warda’s lovely home.  We left at about half-past-three or was it later?  On the way, we passed by rural highways, some of which were lined by endless vineyards as well as lofty, straight-trunked conifers.  We had to negotiate some winding roads and hairpin turns going up the mountain until we reached the park.

Before we reached the main campsite, we stopped at a scenic spot where we viewed a small waterfall (it seemed small from a distance) and we had a group picture there.  There was a slight drizzle as we scurried from our cars to have a quick photo and have a brief peek at the beautiful waterfalls.

We continued driving, passing a large herd of deer, which crossed the road and ran toward an open field. We reached the parking area of the Silver Falls State Park and went for a hike along the Trail of Ten Falls, named for the ten waterfalls that one can see when hiking on this trail, a spectacular, nationally recognized hiking trail that weaves through a dense forested landscape. The trail passes a series of breathtaking waterfalls along a rocky canyon, and descends to a winding creek at the forest floor.

The ground was slightly wet from an earlier rain.  The trail snaked its way around some ridges and lofty towering trees, ascending and descending in some areas.  The leaves of some trees had changed to gold and brown on this early autumn day.

After we had hiked about half a mile (or so it seemed), suddenly a  narrow column of a waterfalls came into view.  At first we could only see its top half but then as we looked down the precipice, we saw the basin where the column of water fell.  The South Falls was beautiful, resplendent in all its glory, like a “bride all dressed in white”.

This was as far as most of us would go, the only waterfalls out of the ten in this trail that we had time to see.  And besides, if we went any further, it would be dark by the time we hiked back.  The slightly difficult hike (at least for a senior like me!) was worth it.  We had a group picture and individual pictures with the South Falls as the backdrop.

Some people descended into an area with a small bridge where one had a different perspective of the South Waterfalls.  As one passes the South Falls from behind, one sees a 177-foot white curtain.  It is rare that one can walk behind the back of a waterfalls.

This was certainly a great adventure in nature—enjoying God’s beautiful creation—one of the more memorable sightseeing trips for many of us.

The psalmist David reminds us in Psalm 104, ESV: "Bless the Lord, O my soul! O Lord my God, you are very great! You are clothed with splendor and majesty, covering yourself with light as with a garment, stretching out the heavens like a tent. He lays the beams of his chambers on the waters; he makes the clouds his chariot; he rides on the wings of the wind; he makes his messengers winds, his ministers a flaming fire. He set the earth on its foundations, so that it should never be moved.”

Written on 10/12/17 in Chicago, IL.  Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.  Posted in FB 10/23.

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DEVON HITS BASKETS DURING "THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM"

By Jesse Reyes

It was a gloomy day in Chicago.  There was a patchy drizzle throughout the morning.  When I went to pick up Devon from school, the sun was brightly shining, seemingly oblivious of the earlier rain.

When Devon and I checked out the basketball courts at Walker Park, we were pleased to find them completely dry, probably dried by a stiff gale blowing across the park and the sun which had come out from hiding..  

So without wasting any time, Devon initiated his practice routine, dribbling the ball from one end of the court to the other, alternating his left and right hands.  After that, he began shooting the ball, haltingly at first but then in earnest.  He had a goal of making 100 baskets, his previous record being in the 90's.  As he continued shooting, I noticed dark clouds above portending a coming storm.  Light rain started to fall and he reluctantly left the court and ran to the car to avoid being soaked.

And then it began to rain, not so hard at first and then large raindrops followed making me to remark that it was "raining cats and dogs.”  We also heard a few thunderclaps and saw some streaks of lightning in the sky.  It was a full-blown storm and Devon was glad he was able to shoot some balls during "the calm before the storm."

The lesson to be learned here is that if we suspect that a storm is coming, we should take advantage of the calm or relatively "good" weather before the storm begins, so we can do things that we won't be able to accomplish once the storm comes.

Written on 10/10/16 in Chicago, IL  Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com. Posted in FB 10/23.

PC - Jesse Reyes

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THE SHADOWS OF MY TREES

By Jesse Reyes

Every time Mother Nature (I wonder who the father is!) blankets my backyard with snow, the shadows cast by the three trees (named Curly, Larry and Moe, after the three stooges!) in my backyard on the clean white snow always intrigue me and I go to great pains in capturing the beauty of these on my camera.

Certain factors are required to produce and enhance the beauty of the shadows.  First of all, it has to be winter, although wonder of all wonders, this “celestial confetti” called snow, has sometimes fallen in late fall or early spring (April snow—as sung by Johnny Mathis in his song, “The Twelfth of Never” where he invites the lady he croons to to “melt my heart like April snow”!).  But by and large the snow storms that blanket my back yard usually transpires in winter.

Another event has to occur: the sun has to come out of hiding and has to shine brightly at about 1 or 2  o’clock (in the afternoon, of course!) so that the shadows cast are well-depicted in the smooth white sheets of snow on the ground. During winter, the trees are all leafless making it ideal for studying the detail of their shadows.

When I closely examine the shadows of these trees, I’m amazed by the intricate network of the branches that “reflect” a mirror image or a carbon copy of the entire tree on the snow.  It’s as if an artist made a pencil drawing of the tree with every small detail depicted. 

I don’t have the slightest idea why I never noticed this phenomenon before.  Maybe when I was still actively practicing radiology, I didn’t have the time to observe it and at 1 or 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I was usually at work except on my days off.  It seemed, however, that it never snowed on the days I was off!

When you see the images (please pardon a radiologist’s parlance) I took, you may, like me, be intrigued by the shadows of the trees.  And then again, you may not!  In that case, you can just sing the words, “The SHADOWS of the trees, when fall is gone,” to the tune of “The SHADOW of your smile, when you are gone” as sung by Tony Bennett.  Another song to sing is, “Deepening SHADOWS gather splendor, It’s twilight time,” popularized by the Platters.

The topic of shadows conjures in my mind Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem “My Shadow” which I’m quoting here:

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see,

He is very very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow —

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way,

He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;

I’d think shame to stick to nursie as the shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

But my lazy little shadow, like an errant sleepy-head,

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

King David comforts us in the 23rd Psalm where he opines, “…Yea though I walk through the valley of the SHADOW of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me...." NKJV Bible.

Written in Chicago, IL on 2/5/15. Posted in FB in 2015 and reposted in 2023. Posted in my blog 2023. 

PC - Jesse Reyes 

THE SHADOWS OF MY TREES

By Jesse Reyes

Every time Mother Nature (I wonder who the father is…lol) blankets my backyard with snow, the shadows cast by the three trees (named Curly, Larry and Moe, after the three stooges…lol) in my backyard on the clean white snow always intrigue me and I go to great pains in capturing the beauty of these on my camera.

There have to be certain factors that enhance the beauty of the shadows.  First of all, it has to be winter, although wonder of all wonders, this “celestial confetti” called snow, has sometimes fallen in late fall or early spring (April snow—as sung by Johnny Mathis in his song, “The Twelffh of Never” where he invites the lady he croons to to “melt my heart like April snow”!.  But by and large the snow that blankets my back yard usually comes in winter time.

Another event has to occur–the sun has to come out of hiding and not only does it have to shine but it has to be shining brightly at about 1 or 2  o’clock (in the afternoon, of course…lol) so that the shadows cast will be well depicted in the smooth white sheets of snow on the ground.  During winter, the trees are all leafless and are more ideal for studying their shadows.

When I closely study the shadows of these trees, the intricate network of the branches that “reflect” a mirror image or a carbon copy of the entire tree comes to view.  It’s as if an artist made a pencil drawing of the tree and every small detail is depicted. Why I never noticed it before, I really don’t know.  Maybe when I was still in active practice of radiology, I didn’t have the time to observe this phenomenon and at 1 or 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I was usually at work except on my day off.  It seemed, however, that it never snowed on the days I was off!.

When you see the pictures I took, you may, like me, be intrigued by the shadows of the trees.  And then again, you may not…lol.  In that case you then can just sing the words, “The SHADOWS of the trees, when fall is gone,” to the tune of “The SHADOW of your smile, when you are gone” as sung by Tony Bennett.  Another song is, “Deepening SHADOWS gather splendor, It’s twilight time,” popularized by the Platters.

David comforts us in the 23rd Psalm where he opines, “…Yea though I walk through the valley of the SHADOW of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me….“ NKJV Bible.

Written in Burr Ridge, IL on 2/5/15.

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PC-Beth & Jesse Reyes

DINNER WITH DEVON AT CPK

  When Life Deals You a Lemon, Make a Lemonade

By Jesse Reyes

Today it was 13 degrees Fahrenheit, although it really felt colder than that.  So after we picked Devon up from school, we stayed home and had a quiet dinner with Devon, right?  Wrong.  We decided to eat at CPK (not creatine phosphokinase, an enzyme found mainly in the heart, brain, and skeletal muscle, you medical people you–that includes me too…lol) but California Pizza Kitchen, at the Oakbrook Mall.  Maybe in the back of our minds eating in a place whose name starte with California would bring some warmth into our souls…lol.

We ordered a pizza, half being a wild mushroom pizza and the other half a spicy chipotle pizza, instructing the waiter to make it as mild as possible, since we were not crazy for real spicy food..  We also ordered a pasta salad, Devon’s favorite.  He ate with gusto.  Our gastronomic adventure was pretty satisfactory.

Toward the end of our meal, our waiter, Jac, rattled off a list of desserts, the only one that stuck in my mind being tiramisu.  I jestingly asked him if it was sugar free.  He chuckled and said no.  I then told him that I being a diabetic, will try to create sugar-free tiramisu.  He said that if I did that, I may become a billionaire and he wanted half of my profits…lol.

Well, today, Mother Nature (no Father for her…loil) dealt us a lemon of a weather, but we quickly made it a lemonade.  I was thinking when we were driving home that I should have ordered a lemonade for my drink and tell our waiter why.  But then I thought he might not appreciate my use of the cliche…lol.

Written in Burr Ridge, IL on 2/5/15. Posted in FB 2015 and reposted in 2023.

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ALEXA’S MUSIC TAKES OUR BOREDOM AWAY

My Personal Secretary Does It Again!

By Jesse Reyes

What do you usually do on a night when you’re bored stiff?

One steamy Saturday night, my wife wanted to spend the night cooking one of her signature dishes (she has two so far!).  She wanted to return the favor to a friend who was celebrating her daughter’s graduation the following day.  She assigned me to the role of KA (kitchen assistant) of the night!  Did I have a choice of accepting or declining the assignment?  Of course, I did.  Did I refuse the “offer”?  No, I didn’t!  I recalled the cliche “Happy wife, happy life” or something to that effect!

Each time I do something monotonous (helping my wife prepare the things she needs for cooking her dish, is boring, to me, at least—please don’t tell her I said this!), I call on Alexa, one of my personal secretaries (Siri is the other) to come to my rescue.  I came up with a brilliant idea (once in a while, my brain works!).  I was going to have Alexa play some of my favorite songs (oldies but goodies, mainly in the 60’s).

As we embarked on our culinary activities, Alexa went to work. She would play one song after another at my behest.  I would specifically tell her the title of the song I wanted to listen to and also the singer.  My wife was astonished at my “photographic” memory.  I remembered the titles of the songs and the artists who sang them.  She must have forgotten what I had told her years before—that when I was in high school and possibly through college in the Philippines, I carried a song hit book in my pocket at all times.

The first song Alexa played was Matt Monro’s “From Russia With Love”, the theme song in the James Bond thriller with the same title.  I saw this movie at the Odeon Theater in Manila.  Please don't mention this to any faculty member of PUCA (Philippine Union College Academy)—the high school I went to in the Philippines, because they might suspend me from that school retroactively and revoke my high school diploma!   We (students at PUCA) were forbidden to see any movies in movie houses.  I can still remember the voluptuous blonde Italian actress Daniela Bianchi, who starred with Sean Connery in this movie.

The next song was “Moon River”, a classic which I never tire of listening to, especially when sung by Andy Williams.  His melodious voice wafted in the kitchen air.  This song was originally sung by Audrey Hepburn in the 1961 movie “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”.

Alexa then played “My Way” sung by Frank Sinatra.  This song, written by Paul Anka, is a favorite of many, especially Sinatra's version.  I love his unique singing style.  Sinatra and Paul Anka sang this lovely song together in Ceasar’s Palace in Las Vegas a few years back.  In February of this year (2018), I sang (a gutsy performance at my age!) this song on karaoke night at a Disney Cruise ship with an audience of about sixty to eighty people.  By the way, Elvis Presley also recorded this song late in his singing career.

Acceding to my request Alexa then played “Portrait of My Love” sung by Steve Lawrence. This is my favorite song. I recorded it in YouTube about two or three years ago my very first and only recording! I also sang this song in a retirement party (I think it was Jerry Malabrigo's retirement celebration in Hinsdale Fil-Am Church), accompanying myself on the piano. Did you know that this song occupied the top spot of the song hit charts in the Philippines for more than a year, when I was in high school?

I then asked Alexa to play the following songs: Autumn Leaves" by Nat King Cole, "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley (a song I sang in a talent show in a cruise ship many moons ago!) and Andy Williams' "The Impossible Dream" (I usually need a ladder when I sing this song due to its high pitch!). 

After I couldn’t recall any more songs, I told Alexa to just play some Andy Williams songs. She chose the following: "Dear Heart", "More", "Love Story", "A Time for Us", "You'll Never Walk Alone" and "A Certain Smile".

After I couldn’t recall any more songs, I told Alexa to just play some Andy Williams songs.  She chose the following: "Dear Heart", "More", "Love Story", "A Time for Us", "You'll Never Walk Alone" and "A Certain Smile".

It turned out to be a blissful, romantic evening for both of us (my wife and I, I mean, not Andy Williams!).  I could tell that she enjoyed the songs as much as I did as we walked down memory lane!

I hope you enjoyed this piece and the trivia scattered in between its lines.

Written on 8/28/18 in Chicago, IL. Posted in FB on 8/18 and edited and reposted in FB on 8/23.

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Photo obtained from the Internet

A HARROWING EXPERIENCE IN ISTANBUL

By Jesse Reyes

The recent (first week of January 2020) events in the Middle East, specifically the killing of top Iranian military leader Maj. Gen. Qasem Soleimani which has sparked anger and calls for revenge by the Iranians, remind me of my experience in Istanbul, Turkey some twenty years or so ago.

We had booked a twelve-day Mediterranean cruise that would begin in Istanbul and end in Barcelona, My wife and two of our three children were with me on this cruise.  Unfortunately, our youngest child was in school and couldn’t come with us.  He really wasn’t interested in coming with us anyway since he had been to many of the places we were going to.

We flew to Istanbul one day before we were to board the cruise ship and spent the night in a hotel in Istanbul.  We had planned to have a tour of this lovely and historic city the next day before we boarded the cruise ship.  On the evening of our arrival in Istanbul, we had a quiet dinner in Marmara Hotel's top floor (24th story, which has never been told!) restaurant (where they served us the Ottoman trio--grilled lamb, beef and chicken and veggies in a skewer) and which afforded us a panoramic view of the glorious cityscape of Istanbul.  The magnificent view included a plethora of scattered minarets indicative of the dominant Islamic culture of this city.

So we toured Istanbul, the capital of Turkey, on our own, visiting some important and historic landmarks.  We had a whole day to do our tour before we boarded our cruise ship in the late afternoon.  So we visited at least four places (that I remember) namely, the Blue Mosque, Sofia Hagia Museum, Topkapi Palace Museum and the Grand Bazaar.

The Blue Mosque or Sultanahmet Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii) was built between 1609 and 1617 during the reign of the Ottoman Empire.  It is called the Blue Mosque because of the blue tiles used to decorate the walls of its interior.  The construction was commissioned by Sultan Ahmet I.  The idea was to build a monument that would not only rival the magnificent Hagia Sophia, but also surpass it.  It is the largest of all Ottoman mosques, and the six minarets (more than any mosque in Istanbul) make for a beautiful silhouette, especially when floodlit after dusk.

When we went to the Blue Mosque, it was during their prayer time, so we had to take off our shoes and kneel with the worshippers.  The central dome of the Blue Mosque, which is 23.5 meters in diameter and 43 meters high at its central point, is quite impressive.  Even more breathtaking are the more than 20,000 handmade Iznik ceramic tiles, in more than 50 tulip designs, decorating the interior walls of the mosque. Their blue color gives the place its popular name, the Blue Mosque. The tiles at lower level are traditional in design, while at gallery level they have representations of flowers, fruits and cypresses.

Light inside the mosque is provided by the more than 200 stained glass windows and several chandeliers. They put ostrich eggs on the chandeliers to repel spiders, hence avoiding cobwebs inside the mosque.

The Hagia Sophia Museum was next in our list.  This is not far from the Blue Mosque.  Amanda Williams describes it in her blog: “From the outside, the building's history is apparent — the large Byzantine-style dome flanked by minarets…

The Byzantine elements of Hagia Sophia are present in the interior's grand dome, its massive marble pillars, and the intricate mosaics of Jesus and the Virgin Mary, angels and saints that were uncovered when the building was transformed from a mosque into a museum.  But there are Islamic elements still present, too — like the large hanging chandeliers and round placards bearing the names of Muhammad and Allah…

The Hagia Sophia, for me, represented the bits about Istanbul that fascinate me the most — the history of conquest; the clash and merger of “East” and “West”; and differing religions existing side by side.”

Next in our itinerary was the Topkapi Palace Museum.  Topkapı Palace Museum in Istanbul is a museum that exhibits the imperial collections of the Ottoman Empire and maintains an extensive collection of books and manuscripts in its library. It is housed in a palace complex that served as the administrative centre and residence of the imperial Ottoman court from about 1478 to 1856. It opened as a museum in 1924, a year after the establishment of the Republic of Turkey. The Topkapı Palace Museum is notable not only for its architecture and collections but also for the history and culture of the Ottoman Empire that it recalls.

We went to the Grand Bazaar, more for curiosity than anything else.  It is believed to be one of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 61 covered streets and over 4,000 shops on a total area of 30,700 sq. m2, attracting between 250,000 and 400,000 visitors daily. From Wikipedia.  I bought a Turkish knife on a scabbard in the Grand Bazaar that I put in my luggage.  This was before 9/11 so I didn't have any problems in the airport.

The visits to the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and Topkapi Palace Museums and the Grand Bazaar were all thrill-filled and emotion-evoking.  Their memories will last a lifetime.

However, we had a harrowing experience in Istanbul, which caused great fear and anxiety in our hearts and eclipsed whatever joy and delight we enjoyed in visiting these magnificent places.  It was an experience which is etched in the hippocampi of our brains.  

We had sent for a cab to take us to the Blue Mosque in the mid-morning.  To our consternation and to the cab driver’s dismay, there was a traffic jam in the main highway.  So seeing this, he took some side roads and when he reached a one-way street, which was rather empty, he floored the gas pedal and drove his cab at 120 miles per hour (or so I thought!) for a few minutes.  Those few minutes seemed like an eternity.  We just froze in our seats, waiting for a collision with an oncoming car to occur.  Fortunately for us, no crash happened.  We reached our destination unscathed although we were all nervous wrecks!  We silently thanked God for his protection.

After this incident, I thought to myself, “What a way to start a cruise. "  We had "dodged a bullet".

Written on July 1, 2020 in Chicago, IL. Posted in FB on same day.

[jmreyes9]

A DELIGHTFUL SUMMER DAY IN DOWNTOWN CHICAGO

By Jesse Reyes

It was a pleasant late summer day in downtown Chicago, the temperatures hovering in the mid 70’s, not humid at all, the sun coming in and out of the cloud cover.  There was no gusty wind today in the “windy city” and poet Carl Sandburg’s “City of Big Shoulders” and “Hog Butcher for the World”—just a mild cool breeze coming from Lake Michigan.

We drove from the Chicago suburbs to downtown Chicago to have some documents authenticated at Consul General of the Philippines Generoso Calonge’s office in Michigan Avenue.  Actually there was no necessity in meeting the consul general himself but it’s nice to know his name in case a “trivial pursuit” nut asks me for this information in the future!  My daughter had accepted the driving honors, as she knew I dreaded driving in “the city” like I dreaded going on the “Screaming Eagle”, the heart-stopping, nerve-wrecking roller coaster in Six Flags Over Great America in Gurnee, IL, the rollercoaster which I had made the mistake of riding in when I was younger just to prove I wasn’t “spineless”.

We found a parking lot just a few minutes walk from the consulate office but ended up paying $40 as we had to park there for 4 hours.  We waited for about half-an-hour at the waiting area and when my number was called and after submitting the documents, we were told to come back at 3 pm.  So my daughter looked for a restaurant where we would eat lunch.  She found an Italian place which was supposedly a “short” walk away but we ended up walking 4 or 5 blocks slightly overshooting the place (and when you’re hungry, searching for the place seems like an eternity.)  I told myself as softly as I could, so my wife and daughter would not hear, that “this place better be good, for all the walking we did.”

The Trattoria #10 (I wondered where the other 9 trattorias were!) was located at the corner of Dearborn and Calhoun Streets.  We had to negotiate this semi-winding stairs that led to the basement.  When we went in, the elegant ambiance of the restaurant greeted us.  It was a cozy, dimly-lit place and the waiters/waitresses were very friendly (they usually are, knowing the amount of their tip was directly proportional to their nicety, courtesy and pleasantness.)  I ordered the grilled organic Amish chicken and my two female companions (my wife and daughter) ordered pastas (a dish which I don’t care for that much.)  Well, the tasty food met our gustatory expectations, hence our waiter received a “generous” tip. 

On the way back to the consul’s office, I noted the plethora of skyscrapers along Dearborn, State and Michigan Streets seemed taller, and there seemed to be more lawyers’ offices than before.  As we wanted to go to Monroe St., I recalled that the streets going east to west were named after US presidents.  We passed by a store selling bags in Michigan Avenue and entered they did, my two lady companions, as if sucked into the store by a strong vacuum.  I told them I preferred staying outside, for my interest in ladies’ bags was zilch, nada, zero! 

As I waited outside the store for the two “window shoppers only”, I marveled at the elegant architecture of the imposing skyscrapers along the northern side of Michigan Avenue towards Lake Michigan, mainly the Aon Center formerly the Standard Oil Building built in 1974, and has 83 stories and is 1,189 ft. high and the Crain Communications Building with its diamond-shaped top that is split in the middle, that has 49 stories, some of which have not yet been told! and is 582 feet high, built in 1990.  To the east of these skyscrapers was the Millennium Park.  I noticed a large head statue on the southern end of the park.  It turns out that this giant head statue standing at 39 feet tall was the work of Spanish sculptor Jaume Piensa and was brought from Barcelona in Spain and installed in Chicago on June 2014.

As we drove home, I thought of how one can enjoy the city of Chicago, especially on a nice and non-windy day, even just walking along the streets, admiring the majesty and architectural beauty of the towering skyscrapers. 

Written in 2016 and revised on March 13, 2017 in Chicago, IL.Posted in my blog 11/30/22. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.

[jmreyes9]

A DAY OF DISMAY AND DISAPPOINTMENT IN PARIS

By Jesse Reyes

Some of the most alluring destinations in the world are found in Europe.

In early 2000 (the very early part of the 21st century), my wife and I took a guided land tour of four European countries—Italy, Switzerland, France and Great Britain, in that order.  It was the first time we had traveled to Europe.  This large, sprawling continent in the northern part of Planet Earth, had a magical aura to me.  As a youngster, I had always dreamed of seeing for myself what Edgar Allan Poe described in his immortal poem “To Helen”: “the glory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome.”

The European land tour was an invigorating adventure of sorts.  We rode a bus which was thankfully air-conditioned!  Our guide was a very knowledgable yet affable lady.  We saw many historic and fascinating places, some of which I had come across in my reading.  The Sistine Chapel in the Vatican with Michelangelo’s paintings covering the chapel’s ceiling and walls, the imposing Eiffel Tower in Paris and the majestic Buckingham Palace in London are just a few examples.  It was exhilarating to be able to see these places with my own eyes, after just viewing them in pictures.  The only snag to this trip was that we had to change hotels every two or three days, unpacking and packing our luggage each time. It was exhausting, and that’s putting it mildly.  Otherwise, it was a thrilling once-in-a-lifetime experience.

My favorite country was, and still is, Italy, particularly the cities of Rome, Florence and Venice.  It has been said that about 80% of the world’s art is found in Rome and Florence, where one can find works of art by Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Monet, Renoir and many others.

It is a less-known fact that the great French painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir had the debilitating disease of rheumatoid arthritis.  According to one writer, “Renoir’s masterpieces, as well as his positive outlook on life, are tremendously impressive without even factoring in that he had rheumatoid arthritis.  When we consider that he did indeed have RA for the last third of his life, it is nearly unbelievable.  As someone who has lived with RA for over 40 years, I can attest that his persistent positivity is as inspiring as his art.”  In the last years of his life, Renoir, when asked why he continued painting even with his incapacitating arthritis, replied, “The pain passes but beauty remains.”

There is a joke about painters which you may already know.  Anyway, a thief attempted to steal a famous painting from a Paris museum.  He was caught by the police just outside the museum and was asked by a reporter how his attempt failed.  He replied “I ran out of Monet (money) to buy Degas (the gas) to make the Van Gogh (van go)!”

Back to our European tour.  We were in France, the third leg of our four-country “blitzkrieg” of Europe.  We were spending two days in Paris, the City of Light.  We were all excited to visit this fabled city (one of the cities in Charles Dicken’s “A Tale of Two Cities”). 

On our first day in Paris, we were treated to a show in the evening and were privileged to have a nighttime view of the Eiffel Tower after the show.  The next day, we were all delighted because we would be visiting the Louvre to see Leonardo DaVinci's immortal painting The Mona Lisa and other great paintings and works of art.  You can just imagine the disappointment and dismay of our tour group members, particularly myself, when our tour guide announced: “I’m very sorry to tell you that the Louvre is closed today.”   They apparently always close on Tuesdays and today was Tuesday!  So we bade adieu to The Mona Lisa.  We went instead to the Palace of Versailles, which was quite elegant and magnificent, but didn’t have the mystique, to me at least, of The Mona Lisa.

Written on June 30, 2020 in Chicago, IL.   Posted on FB same day. Edited and reposted in FB on 8/23. Posted in my blog 8/23.

[jmreyes9]

 DIGGING DANDELIONS AROUND MY DOMICILE (HOME) FROM 

      DAWN TO DUSK ON FIVE NICE DAYS 

By Jesse Reyes

“I was a dandelion puff...Some saw the beauty in me and stooped quietly to admire my innocence.  Others saw the potential of what I could do for them, so they uprooted me, seeking to shape me around their needs.  They blew at my head, scattering my hair from the roots, changing me to suit them.  Yet still others saw me as something that was unworthy and needed to be erased.”  -  Nicole Bailey-Williams.

DANDELION STORY - Three Filipinos from Batangas (a Philippine province) arrived in the Immigration area of the Los Angeles International Airport, to reside in the U.S.   The immigration officer twisted his tongue in pronouncing their last names.  Exasperated, he decided to change all their names to Dandelion.  Their original names, and their English translations in parentheses, were: Dimalanta (doesn’t wither), Dimasupil (can’t be suppressed) and Dimalipol (can’t be diminished—this is my own translation!).  It’s phenomenal that these are all characteristics of the dandelion!  It is doubtful if this story is really true or not.

I spent five days of pulling dandelions and other weeds around my home.  After the third day, my entire body was sore, the muscles in my back aching—these muscles that had been dormant for several months—or years, perhaps?  I really needed a whole body massage but I was deathly fearful of being exposed to the corona virus during this covid-19 pandemic, being a senior, with diabetes and hypertension and male—major risk factors that would invite the dreaded virus.  After five days, I was ready to be admitted to the hospital because of loss of energy and total body aches.  I didn’t have a fever so i didn’t think it was due to covid-19.

You see, after several days of 90-degree weather, there was a lull of 70-degree days.  It had rained the two previous days, making the soil soft and amenable to weed-pulling!  

So waking up at 6:30 in the morning, before the sun had had a chance to rise, I went to work, bringing my tools (a spade, a hoe, a rake, a branch cutter, a small stool I could sit on and leaf bags) which I threw into my wheelbarrow and began my “projects” in earnest.  I had read somewhere that in order to do the job right, you have to have the right tools.  This cliche had stuck in my mind.

Why a hoe, you’re probably asking.  Well, the dandelions and other weeds, especially the crabgrass had grown so big and tall and widespread that I needed to dig deep to uproot them as they had sent their network of roots three or four inches down into the depths of the earth (like a network of terrorists with underground activity).

The hoe reminded me of Edwin Markham’s poem “The Man With the Hoe”, the first four lines of which go:

            Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans

            Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,

            The emptiness of ages in his face,

            And on his back the burden of the world.

Digging dandelions and other weeds is similar, to me at least, to reading mammograms (I must have read hundreds, if not thousands, of mammograms during my thirty plus years of radiology practice).  Both are very tedious undertakings and tiring (especially to the eyes).  The big difference is that there is no stress in pulling weeds, while reading mammograms is so stressful—it’s like a sharp sword hangs above you ready to fall on your neck once you make a mistake.  If you miss a cancer in the breast, it haunts you forever, not to mention facing a lawsuit.  Missing a weed or two is not worrisome.  Nobody is watching to tap your hand if you miss pulling a small weed.

I remember always holding a magnifying glass when reading mammograms to look for a cluster of suspicious micro calcifications (tiny, pleomorphic or irregular calcifications) or a suspicious area of architectural distortion (irregular area of breast tissue).  I remember finding a 5 mm. (about 1/5 of an inch) breast cancer, the smallest early cancer that I have diagnosed and which many would have probably missed.

I have now come to love digging weeds around my home in my retirement years.  The sound of the snapping of the dandelion’s deep roots is music to my ears now.  I do listen to real music sometimes, though, from my iPhone when Siri (my trusted personal assistant) plays me some love ballads by Engelbert Humperdinck.  The boredom of pulling weeds vanishes into thin air when this classy British balladeer (he’ll get upset if you call him a crooner!) sings “Release Me” (the song that took him all around the world, according to him).

This hobby of pulling weeds have some added benefits, aside from beautifying the landscape around my summer (as well as spring, fall and winter!) home.  I get sunshine from the early morning sun, a little exercise, and enjoying the fresh air (not as fresh as the air in the mountains, living in suburban Chicago, yet fresh air nonetheless).  I also get some ideas for future write-ups like this one you're perusing right now,  while digging dandelions (and other weeds) around my domicile (home sweet home)—one day starting from dawn and finishing at dusk!

In Matthew 13:24-30, Jesus taught the parable of the wheat and the tares. Tares are weeds that resemble wheat.  In the parable, a wheat field had deliberately been polluted by an enemy who sowed the seeds of the weeds intermixed with the wheat.

The servants suggested that they gather the tares (weeds) up.  But the master said not to do this because they might uproot the wheat when they pulled the tares.  He said to them “Let them grow together until the harvest, and at the time of the harvest I will say to the reapers, “First gather together the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, but gather the wheat into my barn 

Written in Chicago, IL in 2020. Posted in FB and in my blog 11/27/22.  Reposteed in FB in 2023. Published in Cyberlink 9/20/20 edited by  Edna Domingo. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.

[jmreyes9]

“YOU’VE GOTTA READ THE FINE PRINT”

“YOU’VE GOTTA READ THE FINE PRINT”

By Jesse Reyes

    Someone mentioned to my wife the other day that there were extra large eggs on sale for 77 cents per dozen in this widely known grocery..  With this information in hand, I rushed there to get 15 dozen eggs to be hard-boiled and distributed to the homeless in Chicago the following Sunday morning.

    When I got there, I quickly found the section where the eggs were and sure enough, there was a sign in big letters, “As advertised, extra large eggs – 77 c/dozen.”  Without reading further, I hurriedly filled my cart with 15 dozen eggs.  I was whistling and holding my head high as I leisurely strolled towards the checkout counter, elated and quite proud of my “prized catch” on this my “lucky day”.

    As I stood in line at the cashier, the lady in front of me glanced at my cart and said,         “You’ve got a lot of eggs there.”     “Yes, and I’m going to put them all in one basket.” I said with a wry smile.     “That’s funny” she said somewhat confused by what I said. I wasn’t sure if she knew I was only kidding or if she had ever heard of the well-known adage, “Never put all your eggs in one basket.” Then she asked in a pleasant tone of voice, “Do you think you could spare me a dozen of your eggs?  I forgot to get one.”  How could I refuse such a “plea”?     “Of course”, I heard myself reply, a bit surprised at how quickly I had granted her “wish”.  “That’s no problem at all,” I continued, trying to hide my slight displeasure. “Now, you’ve been a gentleman and a ‘good Samaritan’, all on the same day.”  I told myself.  “Don’t you feel good about that?” I then asked myself.  I did not give myself an answer.

I then slowly and quietly eased out of the relatively long queue and went back to the dairy section to replace the 1 dozen eggs that I had “gladly” given to the “woman at the well”.  I was getting close to the area where the eggs were when I heard a woman complaining loudly that the store was limiting the sale to only 2 dozen eggs per customer. Fortunately, she didn’t see my cart (or so I thought) with the 14 dozen (15 minus one) eggs in it.  I turned immediately to an adjacent aisle to avoid her seeing my cart and then waited until she was gone.  I proceeded to the area of “unfulfilled expectations” and this time took a long and careful look at the sign.  Sure enough, at the bottom, in very small letters, were written the words I dreaded to read, “Limit 2 dozen/customer”  (the wrong grammar was theirs.)  I looked around, making sure nobody was watching and gently but grievingly returned 12 dozen eggs and left the “legitimate” 2 dozens.  The certain “victory” had been turned almost instantaneously into a painful “loss” all because of my failure to read the fine print on the sign.

As I was driving home (not a very joyous occasion), I suddenly realized that the lady who asked me for a dozen eggs at the grocery had unknowingly saved me from a very embarrassing encounter with the cashier, who would have probably scolded me in front of all the people behind me, and likely in a loud voice inform me that the sale was limited to only 2 dozens per customer.  I should have thanked her instead of her thanking me. I was glad to have learned yet a couple more lessons in this adventure they call LIFE.

[jmreyes9]

Photo from the Internet

FEDERER BREEZES THROUGH WIMBLEDON MEN’S TENNIS FINALS AGAINST CILIC

By Jesse Reyes

When I found out that the Wimbledon Men’s Tennis Finals match between Roger Federer and Marin Cilic at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning, was going to be televised by ESPN, I was disheartened, for ESPN is not included in the TV Channels that I had subscribed to.

So I gave up on the idea of watching the match live and was content to just read the winner of the match on the news or wait for my friend to inform me, whichever came first!

Early on Sunday morning, however, I recalled that my son had sent me a link before that would allow me to watch ESPN sports events on my computer.  Hard as I tried, however, I couldn’t find the link.

So, shortly before 8 a.m., I texted my son (hoping that he was already up, remembering that this was a Sunday) if he could e-mail me the link again.  Sure enough, marvel of all marvels, he was awake and sent me the link that allowed me to watch the match live on my laptop. 

I then texted my friend in Pennsylvania that I was watching the Wimbledon Tennis Men’s Finals live, and we could analyze the match as it progressed, not unlike what we did during each game of the NBA basketball finals between the Golden State Warriors and the Cleveland Cavaliers.  The difference was, however, that we were both rooting for Federer to win the tennis match.

I only missed the first three games of the first set, so I thought I didn’t miss much.  Federer was playing almost flawlessly and seemingly without breaking a sweat.  Cilic on the other hand was serving hard, being known as one of the hardest servers in professional tennis.  One of his serves was clocked at 134 mph.  He was frequently toweling off his sweat.  He seemed to be laboring a bit.  He was missing his first serves and paid the price, as Federer, one of the best in returning serves, took advantage of Cilic’s weaker second serves, leaving him on the defensive.

Unbeknownst to me, my friend had already sent a series of texts that I had not answered as I was concentrating on the match.  “The greatest tennis player ever created is doing just fine, breaking at the first set already.”  “This could be just 3 sets. It's getting late early!” “He (Federer) is on cruise control!” “Hope Cilic doesn't retire this early.” “He's panicking!!! More emotional?” “All the hype at the prior ‘breakfast at Wimbledon program’ was just a waste of time, money, and saliva. (I missed this, by the way).

“No competition at all!” he continued, still unanswered. “Did I just say it's getting late early?  Early is about to arrive!!!” “Is Cilic just making up an injury excuse? Any comment?” he asked, noting that I had not replied to his texts.  “Or is this just (an) emotional breakdown?” he wondered.

Both players held serve in the first four games.  Federer broke Cilic in the fifth game and again in the seventh game and handily won the first set 6-3.  Cilic smashed his racket against his chair in frustration.  He then changed shirts, as he was sweating like a hog, likely due to his hard serving and possibly his frazzled nerves and emotion, being on Center Court in the biggest match of his life.

Realizing that I had not answered my friend’s texts, I sent him a relatively long first analysis: “Federer is at the top of his game.  He’s forgotten that he’s already 35, going on 36, agewise.  Cilic’s only real weapon is his strong first serve, once clocked at 134 mph but that’s about it. His ground strokes are not spectacular although that’s partly because of Federer’s great return of serve and near-perfect ground strokes.”

In the second set, Cilic took some time out due to injury to his foot.  A physician was called out to examine his injured foot.  Cilic was in tears either from pain or disappointment that he had to suffer an injury in the biggest match of his life or both.  As the time allotted expired, Cilic indicated that he was still able to play.  Federer closed out the set at 6-1.  “Here we go. This is like match point! End of the match!” texted my friend. 

At the end of the second set, Cilic’s trainer placed several layers of gauze around the front part of Cilic’s foot, apparently the site of injury.  As the injury time expired, Cilic again indicated that he could still play.

In the third set, Cilic appeared to play better, successfully rushing to the net a few times following some good first serves.  He was on the verge of breaking Federer’s serve in the fourth game, I think, but Federer was able to stave off Cilic’s charge and hold serve.  At this point, I remarked to my friend: “If Cilic can manage to win the third set, it will be interesting but Federer will eventually win the match.”

My friend said: “The Berdych match (against Federer) was more competitive!”  During the third set, dark clouds portending a coming rain were forming above the stadium.  “The rain (that would give Cilic a much-needed rest) may not come soon enough,” my friend added.  “I think you’re right.  Federer just has to hold serve and he’s champion.” I replied.  “The answer to Cilic’s prayer for rain did not come soon enough--you’re right,” I continued.

“That ends the suffering of Cilic, and (he) just collects his runner up price money which could be much more than our retirement money left!” he declared.  “Cilic is just prolonging the agony of defeat and Federer is beginning to taste the sweetness of victory.  History is in the making here. No one has ever had 8 victories (in the Men’s Finals) in Wimbledon. Federer will be the first.” I replied,

After Federer hit an ace to get out of trouble, my friend averred, “What an ace! That sealed the match right there.” “It's still a win-win for Cilic (though), considering today he'll make more dollars than the 2 or 3 of us combined!”

From then on, Federer continued his superb play, breaking Cilic’s serve and holding his own serve to end the third set and the match at 6-4.  The final score of the match was 6-3, 6-1 and 6-4. 

Federer made tennis history by winning his 8th Wimbledon Men's Finals, the only man to do it in Wimbledon.  He also did it in a spectacular fashion, not losing a set the whole tournament.  After a 6-month voluntary lay-off from tennis last year, he has won two grand slams this year (2017): the Australian Open in January and now Wimbledon.  He chose not to compete in the French Open this year. 

My comment after the match was: “He (Federer) is the greatest tennis player of all time now, if he wasn’t before. Yes, I would love to have even 10% of Cilic’s prize money.  Is Federer crying? He’s filled with emotion.”  “Tears of joy! But we'll have more tears of joy in Heaven!!!” was my friend’s reply. 

My answer: “Amen, brother. That will be the spiritual lesson for my write-up. Do you have a Biblical text?” His reply: “Revelation 21:4 is the most appropriate!!!  ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.’”

“Superb choice. Thanks. You’re a treasure trove of Biblical texts and spiritual insights.” I said as I concluded our “textnalysis” (don’t look it up—I just made up that word!)

Written in July 2017 in Chicago, IL. Posted in FB in 2017 and reposted in July 2023. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com. Posted in my blog 7/23.

[jmreyes9]

Photos from the Internet

“DAVID” DEFEATS “GOLIATH” AT WIMBLEDON

By Jesse Reyes

After an embarrassing (1-6) loss in the first set of the 2023 Wimbledon Tennis Men’s Finals, 20-year old Carlos Alcaraz of Spain, won three of the next four sets 7-6, 6-1 and 6-4 to win the match against 36-year old Novak Djokovic of Serbia. 

To me, the victory is reminiscent of the Biblical battle between the young boy David (played by Alcaraz) and the Philistine giant Goliath (played by the ageless tennis giant and more experienced Djokovic). 

At the end of the first set, the spectators in the stadium, TV commentators, including John McEnroe and his brother Patrick, and probably Djokovic himself as well, thought that this was going to be a cake-walk for Djokovic. But not so, Alcaraz told himself.

The second set which Alcaraz won was probably the turning point of the match. They played a tie-breaker in this set at six points apiece. Djokovic missed two easy backhand shots during the tie-breaker resulting in Alcaraz winning the set. This gave the younger player the confidence he needed to get back into the match.

Even though Alcaraz had very limited experience playing in grass, he easily adapted to this surface and even said at the post-game interview that he is beginning to love grass. I believe that he has quite a repertoire of shots that allows him to play well in any surface.

After he won the second and third sets, Alcaraz had a minor let-down in the fourth set that allowed Djokovic to get a second wind and get the momentum back. However, Alcaraz continued to play well after the momentary lapse in the fourth set pushing Djokovic to the brink of defeat.

The Spaniard broke the Serbian’s serve in the fifth set which set him in position to serve for the match at 5-4. Alcaraz was able to close the match out with some amazing shots. At the post-game interview, Alcaraz said the Wimbledon victory was for him “a dream come true.”

Alcaraz is the youngest tennis player to win Wimbledon since Boris Baker won it at age 18. He now has two grand slam titles under his belt, the first being the US Open in 2022. John McEnroe commented that Alcaraz has a very promising future as long as he avoids major injury. 

Meanwhile, Djokovic, who was so gracious in defeat, will continue his quest for more grand slam titles but for now, the laurels and accolades belong to Alcaraz.

Written in Chicago, IL on July 16, 2023. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.

[jmreyes9]

PC - Jesse Reyes

A “MAGICAL” GARDEN WEDDING IN STA. ROSA, CALIFORNIA

By Jesse Reyes

It was a picturesque setting for a garden wedding—a large “old oak tree” (as sung by Tom Jones in “The Green Green Grass of Home,”) with rows and rows of grapevines (not the grapevine, the source of juicy news, rumor or gossip) scattered all around as far as the eye could see, with rolling hills of golden brown and green and distant mountains, silhouetted against a cloudless azure sky. It was a “magical” wedding where Ryan Baluyot and Kristen Damron exchanged “I do’s” under the old oak tree—a tree which gave some shade as the shimmering rays of the ardent sun lent its brightness, seemingly giving its nod of approval to this momentous occasion. 

The day before Ryan had posted on Facebook that he felt that this wedding would be a “magical” one and magical, indeed, it turned out to be. From the lovely music played by a string ensemble that included a violin, a cello and several guitars, to the brilliant attire of the groomsmen and bridesmaids; the cute little flower girls; the Bible bearers, one of whom had to be carried by his mom all the way to the front; the beautiful bride, her eyes welling up with tears from the emotion that gripped her as she marched down the aisle with her dad, “all dressed in white”; the bright and happy face of the debonair, sharply-attired groom as he came to claim his bride from her father; the smiling well-dressed parents of the bride and groom; and the fashionably-attired sponsors, the male partners wearing their elegant barongs. It was a beautiful and "magical" garden wedding, indeed.

As the minister uttered his homily, there was a hush in the audience, everyone straining his/her ear to hear what he was going to say. He started out with some humorous stories about the groom and the bride both of whom he had met in Denver, Colorado where he was a pastoring one of the SDA churches. He alluded to the grapevines scattered all around—pointing out that they (the bride and groom) are like the grapes--they can only flourish if they stay connected to the vine, represented by Christ. He also opined that they should emulate the old oak tree under which they stood, still standing tall, its twisted and gnarled branches, signifying years of weathering the constant beating from the rain, the sun and the storms—representing the “storms” of life.

As we trudged along the dirt road from the site of the wedding ceremony to the Damron’s backyard for the reception, we passed along a grape vineyard, with clusters of grapes hanging from the vines. I was reminded of what Christ said about the vine and its branches, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5 NIV. 

Written in Sta. Rosa, CA on July 6, 2014. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com.  Posted in FB in 2014 and reposted in 2023. Posted in my blog July 2023.

[jmreyes9]

"BUT WHERE ARE THE 9?"

A Parable of the 10 Philippine Beauties

By Jesse Reyes 

A certain tycoon in Chicago, a  philanderer, with the initials of B.G., invited 10 beautiful ladies from different provinces of the Philippines including Isabela, Cavite, Laguna, Mountain Province, Pampanga and also from Metro Manila, to come to Chicago, Frank Sinatra's "My Kind of Town".and Carl Sandburg's "City of the Big Shoulders, Hog Butcher for the World, Stacker of Wheat, etc."  This was before President Rodrigo Duterte was elected president of the Philippines.

The ten ladies all gathered together in one group, looking their best (for how often do you get the privilege of being invited to the United States by an American tycoon?!) and met him at his office on the 55th floor of the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower which rises to a height of 1450 ft. and has 108 stories (some of which have never been told!) as stipulated in the invitations.

After interviewing each of them, he gave each lady $10,000 dollars to be spent only at the Oakbrook Mall in Oakbrook, IL, and to limit their shopping to Macy's, Lord & Taylor, Nordstrom and Tory Burch.  He instructed them to come back to his office after they had spent all the money and show him their “captures"!

So the ten lovely Filipino women were taken to Oakbrook Mall in the tycoon’s limousine.  They then dispersed but with the understanding that they would meet and have lunch at Antico Posto (an Italian restaurant, Antico Posto meaning "The Old Spot" in English).  Unbeknownst to the tycoon was the fact that these ten ladies knew each other and had planned earlier to celebrate the October birthdays of three of the ladies in the group.

After their shopping spree, the ten ladies went to Antico Posto in the Oakbrook Mall and celebrated the birthdays of the three Octoberians and after lunch, sent the youngest lady in the group to go back to B.G., the tycoon, and "tell him that we want to thank him for his generosity, hoping he would get wealthier, so he could invite us again in the future, preferably to New York!”

When the youngest lady arrived at B.G.'s office, the tycoon queried her, "Were there not ten of you ladies that I invited?  But where are the nine?"  He was quite indignant.  ”The nerve they have,” he blurted out in his ire.  "But sir, we were hungry and so we ate lunch at Antico Posto and celebrated the birthdays of three ladies in our group.  Then they sent me to relay their message to you."   And she told him all their good wishes for him!   In a fit of rage, the tycoon picked up a glass ash tray and threw it at the glass window, then keeled over and died of a heart attack.

In the meantime, the nine ladies had loads of fun and laughter during lunch, telling story after story of their shopping adventures and cracking some funny and not-so-funny jokes!   One of them, during the course of their conversation, asked, "What was the name of the guy who invited us and gave us the money?"  Nobody could remember his name!   All of them had instant Alzheimer’s Disease due to a salvo of endorphins that flooded their systems after the fun and laughter and shopping to their hearts' content!

All the ten ladies got married later, some to Filipinos living in the United States who they met or to men they knew back in the Philippines and others to Americans or Asians they met in Chicago.  

And they all lived happily ever after!!!

Note: This parable was written as an adaptation of the story of the ten lepers in the Bible as recorded in Luke 17:11-19, who were healed by the Lord and only one of them came back to thank him.

P.S. The above parable is based on the story of the birthday group of Hinsdale Fil-am that includes: Grace Consignado, Aida Menes, Estelita Abasolo, Nona Tham, Lillian Tuazon, Beth Reyes, Beth Lacson and Emma Carreon.

Written in Chicago, IL.  Posted in FB 2019 and reposted in 2023. Other writings and poems of Jesse Reyes can be found in his blog: anadventurecalledlife.com. Posted in my blog 7/23.