Keeping the Dream Alive...Martin Luther King Day Celebration in Storm Lake, IA….co-hosted by the Buena Vista University Student Diversity Center and the Middle School…potluck at 5:00, program at 6:30. Sounded promising. I found my way to the un-used grade school that was the location at. There were about 8 BV students playing in the kitchen and a ragtag assembly of about 10 people looking warily at each other. The potluck was hotdogs, potato salad, sloppy joe (made-rites in Iowa!) and the tuna noodle hotdish I brought—closest I could come to soul food! This could so easily have been a complete bust, but my first conversation was with an old farmer who had been a garbage collector for 14 years before his back gave out. Words came hard to him. But it registered…it was for such as these that King came to Memphis there for to die. He told me about the drive-in theater that used to be on the East side of the lake, and how his dad talked about carrying music cases for Lawrence Welk when he came to play at the Cobblestone. Welk didn’t tip them with money...he gave them chewing gum with his name and picture on the logo.
Fairly sure this conversation had run its course I made my way to the gaggle of students in the kitchen. One recognized me from the community orientation for new students and my coming to the college chapel services a couple of times. Strained introductions led to some laughter and time to eat. There were word searches of MLKing related things, and the party got started. The kids loosened up and I suppose I did, too. There was a lot of laughter. Most were from Chicago, and we started talking about places we loved to eat..Ribs and Bibs in Hyde Park! There was an argument as to whether Chicago was North or South of Storm Lake and I won with proof from my Android cell phone! These were kids who were as out of place as I was, but so comfortable with each other and in their own skins. For one brief shining moment there was a Camelot of community!
6:25 we pulled up the tables, stacked the chairs, and the 20 of us straggled to the auditorium for the program—a 10 minute PowerPoint featuring the writing of middle school kids who didn’t show up and one BV student doing a 5 minute original “spoken art” peace….meaning a poem without rhyme or meter, but from the heart, and cheered lustily by her friends. The coordinator walked awkwardly back to the podium. “I said it was a short program. Thanks for coming and don’t forget your t-shirt.” I took a large, thanked them all for coming and went back out into the night with about four tablespoons of tuna noodle left in a cold dish. The strangest thing was I could not get myself to be cynical about it. Just wonder. Could King have imagined 45 years ago that Storm Lake Iowa would be 30% minority, and that to mark his birthday the oddest assortment of god’s creatures would assemble for hot dogs, made-rites and tuna noodle and spoken art in his honor, with one retired garbage collector fumbling for words, a little nervous, but welcome nevertheless?
…the news from Storm Lake!
