La Bloga: Barrio Songs: An Interview with Richard Ríos

www.chican-izmo.blogspot.comLa Bloga: Barrio Songs: An Interview with Richard Ríos

Raving Review

 Please take a moment of your precious time to read this generous review of my book"Songs From the Barrio: A Coming of Age in Modesto, Ca." written by author Rosa Martha Villarreal. Makes a man, well... feel good.

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Poem "Para Los Tres Grandes" (For the Three Great Ones)

When I was in high school, I wrote my first term paper in a Junior Composition Class on three of Mexico's greatest artists, muralists Diego Rivera, David Alfaro Siqueiros, and Jose Clemente Orozco. To that point I had no idea that Mexico had artists, let alone great ones.

I wrote this poem, wrote and rewrote it over the years, refining it, and finally decided to include it in my book. It is an homage to these three great ones who tell of Mexico's tumultuous history in graphic images, fixing them on enormous walls and ceilings throughout Mexico... for all to see.

Yo Soy Latino Poem From My Book "Songs From The Barrio"

This is a poem I wrote several years ago and it departs a little from the kind of poems I normally write, which are free verse with little or no rhyme. I always enjoy the "sound" of words, word-play and I try to capture some of this when I read.

I love to incorporate Spanish words and phrases into my work because the Spanish language has its own intrinsic beauty in the vowels, and multi-syllabled words. The poem sets out to define what a Latino is, to destroy myths and stereotypes. It is one of the poems sprinkled between the stories which make up my book.

La Bloga: Barrio Songs: An Interview with Richard Ríos

La Bloga: Barrio Songs: An Interview with Richard Ríos

The following interview was conducted by my friend, Nancy Aide Gonzalez on the writing of my book, "SongsFrom the Barrio: A Coming of Age in Modesto, Ca."

On The Peddling of a Book

The other day, my neighbor, a humble, weathered man, uneducated, but street-smart, with all the scars to prove it asked "What you been up to, Richard?" "Not, much. I just published a book." With a look of astonishment he shook his saying "I never knew anyone who wrote a book." "Yeah, now I have to go out a peddle it", I continued. He was amused by the word "peddle" and laughed out loud. A couple of days later, he commented "You been busy peddling you book? Who buys books anyway?" he asked incredulously. "Anybody I can trick into it", I said. He laughed out loud again.

And there you have it. Now that my book is published I have been busy "marketing" it. Actually, this is the best part of the whole thing. Writing, especially the editing was an exhausting and tedious process. But the peddling has been fun.

In a college I had an English professor, Mr. Noyes, an ivy-league clad, bespeckled man who taught us the love of Literature by reading to us. I loved kicking back, not having to take notes and just "listen" to the poems and stories come to life as he passionately read them to us! In a way, I felt as we were being cheated out of something since I had grown up listening to lectures all my life.

I love reading to people. Poems, stories mine or those by other writers. I love the audience response, the frowns, the smiles, the laughter, the tears which in turn make me read with more passion. The kids along with the old-timers listen with earnest intent as I take them on a literary journey into the mind, the imagination. I read for a 7th grade class the other day and they loved the stories and even rushed me at the end of the session for my autograph on little slips of paper they had torn from their binders. A couple of weeks later, four of them gave their teacher some money to purchase a book for them. I was honored.

So I am busy doing local readings and book signings and tricking people into buying my book. On Facebook I have gotten dozens of "Likes" from my "Friends", but few have actually purchased a book. Who needs "likes" or "friends" like this? But hey, I'm not into it for the money, mind you; but damn it, I had to pay a small bundle to publish it, and I also have to pay for each copy I sell. Have pity on me. Some people actually expect me to give them a copy for free! And I have handed out several freebies, too, asking them to help me spread the word on my book if they "liked" it. But for the ones who do buy a book, and actually read it, I must confess I am dying to know if they "liked" it, and in that department, so far, things are going well with many positive comments.

I called the principal from my old high school the other day, Modesto High School, which I graduated from in 1957, to tell him about my book, offering to do a presentation for the school or English classes (free), and finally got a response from an English teacher who scheduled me to do presentations for five sections of her Senior English classes! I will tell those students that I once sat in the very seats they are sitting in, walked the very hallways they walk, went to the same Friday night "Panther's" games just like they do, but that I began running with the wrong crowd until two of my art teachers discovered me, and put me on the path to a college education, a degree, a teaching career, becoming an artist, and now and author, and I will read them stories from my book, one titled "Los Tres Grandes", about how I discovered I could write after a Junior Composition assignment for a term paper, led me research the life and art of three of Mexico's greatest muralists, Diego Rivera, David Siqueiros, and Jose Orozco, and got an "A" on it and the teacher read it to the class.

More readings and booksignings are on the way and I am looking forward to each one, especially one I will be doing as guest author for National Poetry Month in April, at the college where I taught for 33 years. A homecoming, of sorts. And I will continue to peddle my book.

In fact, while I am on it, would you like to buy a book?

Los Aleluiahs

When I was kid, nothing panicked my mom more than a knock on the door, and a peek through the window to see that "Los Aleluiahs" were outside with a Bible tucked under their arm.

Being Catholic, didn't seem to matter to them and when she inadvertently opened the door, she would fidget and fret while they rattled off their spiel that mercifully ended when she took religious printed matter from them that she never intended to read. In fact, telling them we were "Catholic" only served to inspire them.

We were used to the protestant condemnations of our Catholic rituals, our "worship of graven images" and our misplaced love of Mary. We were going to hell unless we were "saved", we were often told.

I was reminded of all this when my normal, quiet Saturday morning was interrupted this morning by a small cadre of door-to-door, immaculately dressed, servants of the Lord. A few years ago, in our previous house, we were regularly accosted by these well intentioned beings, especially on Saturdays. Most often, we would not open the door and just wait till they went away.

One such group was two Mexican kids, one about 19 and the other about 15, who never said a word. To be nice, I invited them in once and after patiently hearing out their obviously rehearsed pitch, I told them I was "Catholic", had my own beliefs and thanked him for the visit.

I thought that would do it, but no, again the following Saturday there the duo was! I knew I had to be more emphatic but I just couldn't muster up the nerve to tell them I had no interest in their church or their beliefs. About the fourth visit, it became apparent to me that the older one did not seem to know much about the Bible outside of his rehearsed outline. So I began to ask him questions and point out scriptures I knew about that had interested me. Turns out, I knew more about the Bible than he did!

On the last visit, I had the poor guy squirming as I challenged him with his own medicine. In a burst of bravado I told him that I for one would never go to his house, knock on his door, and try to convert him to Catholicism! "How would you feel if I did that to you?" I told him that I knew that underneath it all, all his group wanted was for me to start going to his church which would probably send me too, off to knock on people's doors and interrupt their Saturday mornings. He shook his head in defeat. The two never returned.

Either way you look at it, it's an exhausting task. If you don't open the door, your feel guilty. If you do, you are forced to politely listen to their spiel. The sooner you accept their booklets, the sooner they go away. Or you could be rude and tell them to please not bother you. Aye, aye, aye.

I recall seeing a cardboard sign people used to pin on their front doors: This is a Catholic Home. It seemed to work. Seemed to save a lot of time. Wonder if they still sell those things?