Ricardo Sánchez, G.E.D. and Ph.D., lived and died a warrior for justice. He died of cancer but was not defeated by it. When he learned of his terminal diagnosis, he didn't just go somewhere to lie down and die. He still made big plans. He remained creative and wrote some of his most passionate poetry in the pain of illness. When he had surgery on Jan. 26, he asked to be awakened to the sound of Chicano music. When he was buried, a band of mariachis sang and fellow poets uttered their statements. That's what he wanted. In a few moments, when I take my seat, we will listen to a 4-minute piece of passionate Chicano music from an audio tape which María Teresa sent me for this occasion. It will be a beautiful experience as we celebrate Ricardo's life, not mourn his death.

Ricardo learned to escape the negativism and despair of his barrio. A story he often related was about his second-grade teacher:

"I once had the audacity to tell my teacher... when she asked us what we wanted to do when we grew up. I said I wanted to become a writer and a poet. I do not know why. I was fascinated by language. My teacher said, Ricardo, you are just going to disappoint yourself. People like you, Mexican people, you are not born to do those kinds of things with your life, you should accept what you are, you're going to be a janitor, you're going to collect garbage, you're going to work for the city, but a poet? Ricardo, Mexicans don't become poets or writers."

Actually, Ricardo was very indigenous. His grandmother was a Tewa from San Juan Pueblo. It was the Tewa leader Popé who led the well-known Pueblo Indian revolt of 1680. And he made it clear he was not "Hispanic." He was Chicano, and Chicanos are not immigrants. "We didn't come to the U.S., the U.S. came to us."

One of Ricardo's legacies is the number of people who were empowered because he convinced them to aspire to greatness. When he wrote for the San Antonio Express in 1988, he was invited to perform poetry all day long in the high school at Eagle Pass, TX. The school was almost 100% Chicano. In my archive of Ricardo's documents, I have a transcript of what he said: "What I told the children was that every human being, every creature born, has an inherent capacity for greatness, and that we must somehow explore ourselves and arrive at our personal greatness, so we can add to human society. A beautiful, meaningful measure of realization with our lives. I believe we are all born to enjoy life, and share the wonder of humanity." At the end of the day, one the school's teachers was angry with him for filling the students' minds with false hopes.

Ricardo spent part of the summer of 1994 in Dallas, where he taught a workshop to youth and led them to publish a poetic anthology. After reading poetry at the Dallas public library, he was given the Texas flag which had been flown only once, on June 27. On that same occasion, the Texas House of Representatives expressed their high esteem for him with a resolution containing the seal of the State of Texas.

Ricardo was an internationally recognized human rights activist . In February 1993 an International Emergency Committee, which included a longstanding British member of Parliament, urged him to participate in a dangerous mission to Peru because a political prisoner's life was threatened by Alberto Fujimori.. The letter reads: "As an internationally recognized poet, known for defending the human rights of people throughout the U.S., Central America and Latin America, your participation is imperative. Your knowledge of the culture, your mastery of the language, and your personal courage and stand would be essential to the impact this delegation can have. We implore you to move heaven and earth to participate in this historic delegation."

Ricardo was the enemy of whatever excludes, degrades, desecrates, and dehumanizes. He used his culture to draw all people together. Professor Paul Christensen of the Texas A & M faculty wrote that "Sánchez makes his Chicano identity the basis for celebrating the merger of other humanity around him..."

Ricardo loved spontaneity. I saw him twice create poetry on stage in real time. During the Border Crossings Conference in 1992, I thought of how fortunate our University was to host such a significant event which drew so many enthusiastic Chicano artists from different parts of the country who came to enjoy themselves here and share their skills with our community. An author from Italy, who had been looking for such an opportunity, also came and paid her expenses. During one of the sessions, she read poetry in Italian. It was translated Chicano poetry, and the authors were right here in Bryan Auditorium, sitting in the audience.

So, Ricardo, thank you for satisfying my culturahunger. Today I often sit alone in those familiar places, musing over the sacred things we once discussed when we tried to solve the world's problems and hoped for better times for our families, our people, our universe. In moments of forgetfulness I still await your return. I turn back the clock five years to adjust the past. But time will not reverse itself, so I hide my pain and look for another one like you to arrive.

              Un Puño de Tierra (last verse)

 el día que yo me muera         the day i die
 no voy a llevarme nada         I will take nothing with me
 hay que darle gusto al gusto   "life must be lived to the fullest"
 la vida pronto se acaba        life will soon be over
 lo que pasó en este mundo      of the things that happened in this world
 nomás el recuerdo queda        only the memory remains
 ya muerto voy a llevarme       once dead i will carry with me
 nomás un puño de tierra        only a fistful of dirt