A segment This poem reminded me of Selena Yesterday:
Reports of the death of Selena hit many of our communities across this nation and, at least, the Hispanic world like the death of President John F. Kennedy did for the entire world. I still remember where I was the day I saw the news about her tragic end. It was past the middle of the semester of my first year in college.
I was in a dorm room that I shared with my Rastafarian, dreadlock-wearing roommate from a much different part of Texas than me who'd spent a few years of his young life in Brazil, where he picked up on Reggae. It was in the afternoon, after a late morning class and lunch. I got back to my room and fired up the...television. As soon as I saw the report the world stopped. It paralyzed me momentarily more so because of the drama of the idea of being shot down at the height of popularity (and because she was shot by someone who didn't deserve to even stand next to her, much less determine her fate) than because I was a huge fan. Although, I was a fan of her music and her all-around talent.
I had seen her in a few interviews and she had the kind of charisma and warmth that is hard, if not impossible, to fake. People attested to the fact that just as she portrayed herself in those interviews was the very same way she treated her fans when they approached her for pictures or autographs. She was such a humble human being. Such a wondrous voice and presence. A people's celebrity. A true queen. The beauty she gave to the world still lives on, giving of itself through the generations. Her life and her death, were not in vain.
Sponsor Fluid Chicano Films
Gabriel H. Sanchez
Fueled by RPM