Weather | Sports | Forums | Comics | Classifieds | Calendar | Movies
© St. Petersburg Times, published November 24, 2001
Feduardo Luis is a warehouse manager living in Ybor City. Luis writes songs and sings them in his home on a makeshift stage he has built over his bed. His audience sometimes includes tenants who rent rooms from him, sometimes no one.
My name is Feduardo, not Eduardo, Feduardo. Because "Fe" means faith in Spanish and I am nothing but my faith, my heart. That's why everyone from when I was a little boy calls me Corazoncito, Little Heart. I love with my heart, lose with my heart and, more than that, sing with my heart.
We grew up on a ranch in Colombia, with coffee, corn, cows, everything you could want. When I was watching the cattle at night I would sing, and my father would yell out "Shut your mouth, you stupid dog," and my brother would yell back, "That's no dog, that's Corazoncito!" and we all would laugh. Before I was grown we lost the farm, and I've wandered ever since.
I'm not complaining, God has a plan for me, but I have suffered. You can hear that in my songs. There are over 30 of them, all original, all about faith and love. I have loved seven times, and lost all seven. I died each time, and now I live alone. But today I am laughing and want to sing.
When I dream, I am famous, the world is easy and full of love. Everyone loves everyone, and everyone knows Corazoncito. Everyone wants to hear me sing.
Julio Iglesias once heard me sing. Afterward he brought me a glass of Champagne. Someday maybe you'll meet him. Ask him about Corazoncito, he'll remember.
I want to make a professional tape and send it out. Maybe to Univision, the Spanish station in Miami. You know it? They might give me a show.
The Corazoncito Show! I can hear the crowd now yelling for more: Otra! Otra! . . . Okay! Okay! One more. You've been such a good audience tonight. This one is special for you. . . .
When I'm famous you can come visit me, and we'll talk about how it was back in the day, here in my bedroom with a stage, dreaming.
-- TEXT BY JOHN PENDYGRAFT OF THE TIMES STAFF