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USA250 Journal Project
Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.
✍️ “Who am I?”
I’m Carlos Reyes.
Journalist. Son. Nephew. Border kid turned watchdog.
I live in two worlds at once—on paper and in pavement. I’ve written stories that changed laws and ones that got me followed home. I don’t scare easy, but I keep my door locked.
I drink too much diner coffee. I miss my tía’s laugh more than I admit. I still eat at McCallister’s every Sunday, even when Hank won’t say what he’s thinking.
People call me persistent. Passionate. A pain in the ass. I wear all of it like armor.
But the truth?
I just want this place—this border, this home—to stop breaking the people who love it most.
Who am I?
I’m the guy asking questions no one wants printed.
I’m the man still setting an extra plate for a memory.
I’m what happens when love and fury get the same address.
✍️ “How did I get here?”
I got here by asking questions that made people uncomfortable.
When I was twelve, I asked why the school cafeteria dumped perfectly good food while half my classmates didn’t eat breakfast.
When I was sixteen, I asked why my tío’s landscaping crew got paid under the table and still got blamed for taking jobs.
When I was twenty-one, I asked why the ICE van parked behind the supermarket every Friday. And why nobody else seemed to think that was strange.
My aunt María taught me to read between the lines. To take notes. To speak when it mattered.
She passed away five years ago, and something in me cracked open for good. Her rosary’s still in the diner register. Her photo’s still in my wallet.
I came home because I wanted to. Because I believe this place can be better. But that belief costs you something—friends, favors, sleep.
People say I stir things up. But mostly I just write down what’s already there.
Hank’s part of that too. Quiet, solid, stubborn. We argue more now. But he listens, even when he pretends not to.
How did I get here?
By refusing to stop caring.
What has life taught me?
That silence protects power.
That telling the truth makes you enemies—and allies.
And that change doesn’t start with a headline. It starts with staying.
Family
Henry “Hank Mc Callister – Uncle.
