Flash Performances

I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers.
Mahatma Gandhi


I am passionate about rock music, especially that of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. My favorite singer of all time is Van Morrison. He’s best known for the songs ‘Gloria,’ ‘Brown-Eyed Girl,’ and ‘Moondance.’ The last time I saw ‘Van the Man’ perform was over twenty-five years ago, at the Hollywood Palladium in Los Angeles.

Van has the reputation of being one of the most cantankerous artists of all time. Recently, on the internet, I read a poll in which journalists were asked to name the most unpleasant person in the music industry that they’ve had to interview. Van Morrison’s name was at the top of the list. Número uno. Still, Van the Man writes absolutely wonderful songs and sings like no one else. So, who cares if he’s a grouch?

On the last occasion that I saw Van Morrison live, as soon as he walked on stage several members of the audience started taking photographs—the flashes of the cameras brightening up the place like soundless streaks of lightning. (This was in the days when personal cameras were allowed in concert halls.) At the conclusion of the second number, Van stood absolutely still at center stage. He waited for the applause to subside, and then, in a deep growl, he reprimanded the photographers, saying, “Hey, hey, cool it with the flashes, will you?”

The offending fans, perhaps in fear of the Irish singer’s legendary bad temper, obediently put away their cameras. I didn’t see a single flash go off during the rest of the show, and Van Morrison never said another word to the audience. He let his music do the talking instead, giving us an unforgettable performance.

Several days ago I read from Bernardo and the Virgin at the center that belongs to the Movimiento de Arte y Cultura Latino Americana (MACLA), in downtown San Jose, California. In my days as a college undergraduate, in Los Angeles, I remember discussing with friends, on more than one occasion, how wonderful it would be to have a place where Latino and Latina artists—in the visual, musical, dance, theater, and literary arts—could showcase their talents. These contemplations occurred over thirty years ago. Back then, that such a center would ever exist seemed like an impossible dream for most of us. At the time, people of Latin American ancestry were invisible in the United States, and to think that one day this nation would begin to acknowledge our cultural contributions was the wildest of our fantasies.

But organizations like MACLA, through the dedication and sacrifice of their members, are helping to make this dream a reality. In MACLA’s center there’s an art gallery and a theater. In addition, the Movimiento de Arte y Cultura Latino Americana hosts a variety of workshops that benefit the community, in particular its youth, regardless of ethnicity.

MACLA has been in existence for over fifteen years and its offerings grow each year. This is the best measure of the need for such an organization. It is also the greatest measure of its success. My thanks go to Tamara Alvarado, MACLA’s Director, and Fred Salas, Program Coordinator for Performance and Literary Arts, for inviting me to share my work. They, and the rest of the staff and volunteers, have my admiration and respect for the important job they are doing. Sigan adelante.

My sister, Sandy, who’s a television news reporter with UNIVISION, in Fresno, and my mother, joined me for the reading. Although having them in the audience made me a bit self-conscious, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Their presence gave the event a very special meaning for me.

As I stood on the theater stage that evening, reading from a podium, it was difficult not to let the annoying flashes of the photographer’s camera distract me. But I do have to confess that more than once I was tempted to paraphrase Van Morrison, my musical hero, and say to the offending person, “Hey, hey, mom, cool it with the flashes, will you?”