Poetry for the masses

I have never once gotten through Pat Mora’s poem “Elena” without crying, so heartfelt and beautiful—a mother’s worst fear. It’s the last line that chokes me. Conversely, I can’t read Angela Vigil-Piñón’s “por la calle Zarzamora” without laughing at the coquettish women that saunter into the bar. I have been one of those women, Aqua Net y todo. I have seen these women and they ARE beautiful. I’ve been thinking and thinking about the truth in Angela de Hoyos “Go Ahead, Ask Her”
……is it
not true
that when
a woman
cries
all the gentlemen
console
her

but when
a wife
cries
she cries
alone?

So sad, so right, so thoughtful.

Is this chicana poetry? Is this poetry for masses? Who are the masses? Can they be one and the same? Wish everyone could see what I see…

Every picture tells a story….

I’ve been reading the newspaper, not just scanning it online like I used to, which tells me I was starved to see a person of color in a position of power. I never really cared what happened in the newspaper because what was in it never reflected me, or anyone I knew in the Mexican American community. It was a running joke in our family, how terrible our community newspaper was at representing the majority Mexican American population in our city. Where I grew up people were brown and what I saw in the printed word contrasted with what I knew. I went to university because I wanted to learn about the printed word. What I found were people in power who did not reflect my heritage, where I came from, and therefore, my beliefs. The idea of just how malnourished I was didn’t hit me until I saw the 44 U.S. presidents video. The images of each one of our presidents’ portraits morphing into one another played to Bolero by Ravel made me hungry in anticipation of the final one—the forty-fourth. The tears that welled in my eyes when I saw that light brown face sated me, validated my existence, thrilled me, comforted me like seeing the faces of my own family does. And I finally realized and actually believe that I am a part of this country too, part of the process, and will be included in the discussion.

CAUTION! FREE EXPRESSION ZONE

This, this is what I like seeing.

http://verseandharmony.blogspot.com/

Way to go Chuco!

Go Geeks!

The geeks of America made this the ‘funnest’ election ever. It was a break through and I’m not just talking for obvious reasons, the people electing the first black president of the United States, but also because of all those cooo-el graphics. County-by-county voting results were just a mouse click away. The techies did an awesome job. I couldn’t decide whose maps I liked better the New York Times, CNN, Univision, MSNBC, or USA Today.

CNN has this search engine that allows you to type in your zip code and check out your local races. How cool and up to the minute is that? All these colorful maps allowed us to look up results up by state, race (presidential, senatorial, congressional, gubernatorial), and on the CNN map by proposition. USA Today even mapped the flow of campaign finance contributions on a state-by-state map. We’re talking nirvana for the political junkie.

It was a great day for newspapers as well, which bodes well for literacy. Go Obama! Dailies had to print extra copies of their Nov. 5, 2008 editions because people were buying extra copies to frame, keep, put in their scrapbooks, or throw darts at, depending on their party affiliation. It’s a wonderful thing.

Obits

I’m going to miss Michael Crichton. His books Juarrasic Park, The Lost World, Airframe, Prey and Sphere were my guilty pleasure and now that he is gone so is my nasty little secret. I loved reading his action driven plots and losing myself in the details of his science. The last book of his I read was Prey, and I can’t help but think of him every time I see a flock of birds in the sky. I know now how and why they huddle together in those formations (who knew birds were so dumb) and I get a little creeped out thinking that somewhere out there, perhaps in my backseat, there is a bad guy too small to be seen with the naked eye.

Crichton was only 66. Studs Terkel, 96, who also passed away this week lived a long and blessed life and I’ll miss him too. He left a lasting contribution to the non-fiction genre and his conversations with America were invaluable. Still I’m going to miss Crichton more. His books I bought for the fun of it, and although formulaic and fluffy fed me small doses of DNA replication, airplane engineering, nanotechnology, and submarine technology so that I didn’t gag. For that little bit of nourishment I am thankful.

I like them books

Banned Books Week
Sept. 27-Oct. 4, 2008


Bill of Rights
Amendment I

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.


Banned Books Week is the only national celebration of the freedom to read. And the American Library Association’s celebration couldn’t have come at a more opportune time than this the week of the vice presidential debate in St. Louis.

Gwen Ifill, the PBS correspondent and debate moderator, will certainly have a timely story and question to ask of Gov. Sarah Palin if she questions the VP candidate about her seemingly innocuous request to a Wasilla librarian about “How to go about banning books?” Perhaps a follow up question asking Palin, who was mayor of Wasilla in 1996-2002, if she indeed did threaten the Wasilla librarian Mary Ellen Emmons (now Baker) with termination if she did not give her “full support” to the mayor. Ask Palin why Ms. Baker left her job of seven years before the start of her second term as mayor?

I find it interesting and a good reminder of why banned books week is necessary. It was launched in 1982 in response to a sudden surge in the number of challenges to books in schools, bookstores and libraries. More than a thousand books have been challenged since 1982. The challenges have occurred in every state and in hundreds of communities.

People challenge books that they say are too sexual or too violent. They object to profanity and slang, and protest against offensive portrayals of racial or religious groups--or positive portrayals of homosexuals. Their targets range from books that explore the latest problems to classic and beloved works of American literature.


Don Haskins

Okay, one last post on Don Haskins. This is how many in El Paso, including my father, remember Haskins, which was seated on a barstool drinking a cold one. A bar owner Mr. Ontiveros had this to share about El Paso's most famous import:

"In a bar that I owned in Downtown El Paso, Don Haskins once walked in to enjoy a cold beer. Sitting at the end of the bar were two Anglo men having a cold one as well. Minutes after sitting at the bar, one of the Anglo men asked Don Haskins what prompted him to have started five N****** (N word) during the national championship game.

To read the rest of the post click here.

Change

Juanes really hit the nail on the head with his new single "Odio por amor" and if the Obama people are on top of it they'll incorporate it into their message. Take a listen here.



Speaking of change

Just read Dagoberto Gilb's piece in Slate about Iowa cornfields. It reads like poetry and addresses the issue of change in the Americas.


Don Haskins memories

I, like everyone in El Paso, have Don Haskins stories and memories. I was sports editor at the UTEP newspaper during Timo's (pronounced TEE-MOE, Tim Hardaway) playing days. I got to see more of the basketball players then I really needed to in the locker room before their showers after the games. They'd yell, "woman, woman, woman" when we chicks walked in either as a warning or a signal. We got to see some interesting bare-assed dances, and thankfully Coach Haskins (always ahead of his time) realized that we reporter chicks were low on cash and couldn't properly tip our impromptu Chip-n-Dale dancers so he had the players meet all media outside of the locker room, before their showers.

I loved the movie "Glory Road" not for its historical accuracy (which plays loose with the facts as many Hollywood productions do) but for this solitary scene starring Coach Haskins. The young Haskins is talking from a telephone booth in the heart of New Jersey, you know, Jersey, the town where Joe Piscopo is from. And here is this supposedly Northern gas station attendant with a drawl so thick you crave a fresh from the comal tortilla for it...