Latino, Hispanic Culture, Arts and Entertianment at BF Cafe

“Jeff Rivera’s FOREVER MY LADY captures those fleeting but powerful moments in the life of young love, with the seed for love to grow into family, into community, into a better world.”
Luis J. Rodriguez, author of “Always Running”

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BFC: Where did you grow up and what was the culture of your home like?
I grew up in Hillsboro, Oregon then moved to Las Vegas when I was 17 with my parents. We were dirt poor growing up, didn’t have much but that forced us all to be creative. Our talents whatever they were at the time grew as if being in poverty were fertile ground. My stepfather is Filipino which is why my last name is Rivera, both of my grandmother’s were half-black and half-Native American. My cousin’s are half-Puerto Rican so we’re all just one big mutt United Nations family.

BFC: Who or what events inspired you to write?
I think it was something that came naturally to me. Something I loved to do since I was 6 years old. It was an escape from some of the changes we were experiencing at such a young age.

BFC: What is the premise of Forever My Lady?
Forever My Lady is about a vato about 17 years old who gets locked up in prison boot camp. Everyone gives up on him except his lady who promises him she’ll never leave him. But when he gets out of boot camp he finds out she’s getting ready to marry someone else. It’s a story about turning your life around and getting second chances, I think everyone no matter what your background can relate to loving someone so much and that person not loving you back. 

BFC: You wrote a Latino themed story, why?
I think the story lent itself to being Latino-themed besides I wanted to write something for a people where their stories are rarely told and need to be told. If I can open doors for other people and God can use me in that way then it something that makes me feel good.

BFC: Do you have any statistics on the Latino literary world? Where do we stand in relation to other ethnic groups?
Well, I don’t have statistics but rather than look at things negative, let’s put it this way. There are more Latino editors at publishing houses than there ever were and although there needs to be more doors are swinging and flying open like crazy. There’s no better time to be Latino in America.

BFC: What was your publishers initial response to you writing to a demographic that seems outside your own?
At first I was very concerned that I wouldn’t be accepted but they just told me that a great story is a great story no matter who wrote it. I feel very blessed because from the very beginning Latino community has accepted me and practically adopted me as one of their own. I think because I came at the story with respect to the culture, with a listening ear and because I came at the story with the angle of writing about human beings that just happen to be Latino. The story is really a multi-cultural story with characters that are black, white, mixed and Latino.

BFC: Where can people contact you or get more info?
People can go to: www.ForeverMyLady.com I appreciate everyone’s support. This is a little book in a world of Harry Potters so I’m grateful that so many people are really spreading word about such a little novel. I go to bed thanking God about how many people are talking the book up and making it bigger than I ever dreamed that it could be.
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An excerpt from Forever My Lady:

“Don’t be stupid Foo’. Don’t be a pendejo.”

Dio looked at his homie Spooky’s grip on his jacket. Most of his boys called Dio “Playboy” because all the ladies loved him, but those that had known him since he was a kid called him his real name, Dio.

He took another hit off his joint. He’d given up smoking over a year ago, had to, but on this day he was more nervous that he had ever been in his life. Thunder rumbled and rain poured, making it impossible to see. Thunder scared Dio, always had. Dio fought to keep from shaking. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. He tried to hide his fear. His mind was set.

He had to do it. Dio yanked his arm away from Spooky, and pushed the door open.
“Just keep the car runnin’, ese.”

Spooky was a big guy, tattoos up and down his arm and a glass eye. He normally would have just kept Dio from leaving at all, but he knew nothing could stop him. Nothing at all. Dio jumped out the car. It was a ’57 Chevy, slick red, with a chili-pepper-hot Mexican heina painted across the hood. Dio had painted that picture himself. Complete with chrome wheels. It was bad-ass.

He slammed the door shut and looked up at the Cathedral in front of him. Lightning illuminated its majestic towers, windows with an eerie stained glass. He’d spent many a night imagining this would be where he’d marry her. They’d have a huge wedding with members of their families flying in from all over the world just to watch this event; this marriage he thought was so destined to be. He’d put his everything into this dream, his one and only dream, and now as he yanked the heavy Oak doors open, his heart pounded like a subwoofer.

He dried his soaked clothes with his hand and scratched his shoes on the mat so as not to squeak across the old wood floor. The church was jam-packed, mostly with Mexicans and Puerto Ricans, but some blacks.

Probably his familia, Dio thought. How could she even think about marrying some pinche negro?

The grand organ music permeated the building while a choir of children sang, their voices echoing throughout the church. It smelled musty in the air, a mix of wood stain and must as if they never really cleaned the place, just painted over it.

He tried not to be too suspicious, slipping past every one. Funny, he was dressed probably better than he’d ever been. Black suit, his wavy black hair slicked back, starched white shirt, polished black shoes.

Dio had grown into a very nice looking young man. Maybe even could have been a model, had he played his cards right. Maybe if he hadn’t grown up in the slums of Northeast Vegas, he could have been one of those Latin heartthrobs that were in those magazines. Instead, mostof the time he looked like the thug most people assumed he was just by looking at him.

But on this day, this very weird day, he was even wearing a tie. Jennifer would have been so proud of him if she could see him. Funny, he’d probably be the last thing she’d see.

He checked his jacket pocket to make sure it was still there. Yep, it felt like a brick pressed against his chest. But he was so numb, or more like so focused, that he was oblivious to it. All he knew was that he had to find Jennifer, and he would use any means necessary.

Wham! Dio bumped hard into a glass table. His thigh throbbed in pain as bullets dropped from his pocket and bounced off the tile floor. The sound echoed all over the lobby. People looked around for the source of the sound, but Dio managed to scoop them up before anyone could see.

He got up and noticed the beautiful ice sculpture on the table–melting, dripping like anice cream cone in August. Melting just like his heart.

He saw Father Martinez, his priest, the one he’d grown up with. It was as if the whole world had turned against him. They’d sided with Jennifer, when this was supposed to be their wedding. It was as if she’d slapped him across the face, as if nothing they’d been through together even mattered. The whole thing was surreal.

She loved him. She’d said that over and over to him since they were little kids. She’d taken care of him and believed in him and dreamed with him and held him when nobody else could give a care.

“Estoy aqui para ti. No matter what — Siempre,” they’d promised each other. And a promise was a promise.

Visit Jeff’s website listed above for more information on the book

AM/07/07�