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Chicano-Indian American Cultural Center miscellaneous newsletters, 1977-1978

14

Open Letter to the Chicano Indian American Student Union 

On the last night of January, I attended a meeting in the Chicano Indian American Cultural Center. I had been invited to speak with students there about the new tutoring counseling program that I and my staff were putting together here at the University of Iowa.
My rap was meant to be a standard one, consisting of introduction, some statements of purpose, what's possible, etc. Somewhere toward the middle, I faced left tot he President of the Chicano Indian American Student Union, Darlene Wind, and the sound of her name pronounced in my mind caused me to smile, and feel warm.
To Darlene's left, in an alcove, sat two men who were silent for the most part, and noncommittal in their presence; neither indicating approval nor disapproval of what was being said. Just listening. One man was in neo-traditional clothing and he seemed stern, but kindly. Maybe even Just. Seeing him caused me to feel calm as well as warm.
As I was talking again, my eyes passed over Elia, Eddie's wife. She was feeding her baby, Leticia, and to her side was her son Eduardo and the children of her sister.
A young man whose name I do not know mentioned something that caused me to remember the madness of Vietnam, the struggles of the 60's, the symbolism and cynicism of the 70's, the entire panorama that was so much a part of my being, my becoming, my life. I felt a burst of knowledge, a sudden awareness of what it meant to me to be here in a Center of Culture with the people of my country.
It was really a good feeling, I'll tell you. And so now I want to speak of things I felt I was not able to say then...

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14 Open Letter to the Chicano Indian American Student Union On the last night of January, I attended a meeting in the Chicano Indian American Cultural Center. I had been invited to speak with students there about the new tutoring counseling program that I and my staff were putting together here at the University of Iowa. My rap was meant to be a standard one, consisting of introduction, some statements of purpose, what's possible, etc. Somewhere toward the middle, I faced left tot he President of the Chicano Indian American Student Union, Darlene Wind, and the sound of her name pronounced in my mind caused me to smile, and feel warm. To Darlene's left, in an alcove, sat two men who were silent for the most part, and noncommittal in their presence; neither indicating approval nor disapproval of what was being said. Just listening. One man was in neo-traditional clothing and he seemed stern, but kindly. Maybe even Just. Seeing him caused me to feel calm as well as warm. As I was talking again, my eyes passed over Elia, Eddie's wife. She was feeding her baby, Leticia, and to her side was her son Eduardo and the children of her sister. A young man whose name I do not know mentioned something that caused me to remember the madness of Vietnam, the struggles of the 60's, the symbolism and cynicism of the 70's, the entire panorama that was so much a part of my being, my becoming, my life. I felt a burst of knowledge, a sudden awareness of what it meant to me to be here in a Center of Culture with the people of my country. It was really a good feeling, I'll tell you. And so now I want to speak of things I felt I was not able to say then...