If I believed I was a rapper on the up Mr. Robinson was a force same too. I prayed for his PageNet beeper. He had flair and was quite the challenge, which was the wrong way of looking at it.
All-Star kids were drawn to him, and “bad seeds” my category if there was a census bureau, avoided him at all costs. But to me the “SAC” it’s snitches and honor society students that spent time there on Mr. Robison’s MAC playing Tetris and discussing timeless teenage issues was all politics. I appreciated the sunlight, penthouse view and dialogue. It was a cool place to be when you were scamming. And he saw me. I had to be careful, I knew it cold from our first encounter.
Unlike my fellow delinquents that had already cracked the thirty-detention mark I liked making unannounced cameo appearances to the
Mr. Robinson knew my schedule better than I did so it had to be a truly “free” moment to dip. And this occurred typically before or after my improvisation class. My sister spent time in the “SAC.” Mr. Robinson was fond of Brooke as were most people she came into contact with. She was no longer skating solo but still precision with the Haydenette and would appear on national television with the rest of the cast for their customary New Years day Rockette style skate in Rockefeller center. I felt like a young Janet Jackson watching her older brother Michael on national TV on major US holidays instead of being home like every other kid. The Haydenette’s were national champions, I’d be happy with states.
Basketball was now less than a month away and I still hadn’t passed out my first football card.
I need to get some UNLV members to help me start passing out football cards this week yo
The high school “clock” was something I was always aware of. The race towards legendary status in Astori had a clock. It was an hourglass and you had to stay on track. In the second week of November I finally had forgotten around to my new candy thing.
Saturday Morning: Beyond my hyperactivity there was one other reason I got off the coach in the morning. And it was something I’d hear Coach Farias say all summer.
“Hey, you can sit on the couch, but guess what the guy in the next towns not, and some kid in another towns not, you got to practice more than him if you want to be a player.”It was real. The basketball was my best friend and the towns storied program gave me something to look forward to in life. And although my right arms handicap presented a formidable obstacle, I faked it, pretended it never happened. Saturday morning meant Hayden
“Good Morning miscreants!”My father entered with the enthusiasm of being in a room without my mother. “Mis-cree- what?” Lamont responded in a high pitch my Nubian brothers reserved for big question marks I'd soon adopt. “What’s that mean?” It didn’t match up with any of the 100 or so words I was familiar with.
“Look it up, you have to be able to speak English in America if you want to get a good job guys, you know why?”“Uh-uh.” We said back slowly shaking our heads.
“Because everyone else can and everybody does, you guys know about two words combined, all this yo and rap I better than you crap cause I have a gold chain.”And he let that settle.
“Gold chains make a man dad.”I say testing. “Bunky Saturday morning can you give me a break for just one day?” “OK, I’m sorry.” It was a valid point I was showing off for Lamont. Alewife to Ashmont. End to end that was always Lamont’s route back to the city on the subway. The two stops were bookends encompassing two vastly different environments. Alewife was named after a fish found in the nearby rivers stream. It was the first stop on the city subways Red Line and closest to Astori. “Hmm, you want to go on a trip to the city bunky?” And both Lamont and I knew what that meant, and I responded in my best Bobby Brady, “Would I!” I loved my dad for extending that rare offer many times. It was a long drive and crazy to think Lamont along with two hundred others made the commute daily to attending school in Astori.
“Thank you sir!”Lamont had just got a big boost to his day. And for my father a kind and caring man, he didn’t mind besides he loved to use these “hood” runs as a subconscious preview of how good I had it. Seeing that he paid all of $150 bucks for the latest motorized gerbil he’d drive anywhere. My dad
“OK, let’s go, I have a new route I want to try.”My father loved new routes, and found satisfaction like many men in talking best routes and discovering hidden shortcuts. Soon we were out the door.
“OK, thank you so much. Yo C you soft for not playing football.”Pulling out of the driveway and out of town, we passed the sprawling Wilson Farms and hopped on route 2A towards Cambridge. And as we barreled down the height peak of route 2A towards the city of Cambridge and subway stop Alewife, Boston’s charming city line awakened my idled Edison’s. (footnote) Back in Astori.
I had a new thing I wanted to try along the same lines as the Candy thing, which brought joy and speculation to me while attending Junior High. Now older this time I’d figure I’d start off with employee’s. So I arranged a meeting mid-week which I reminded the three people I invited on Friday about on several occasions. I had visualized and here it was, I had to get to the shower because alls I could think about was what I was going to wear. My very first business meeting, I felt I was growing up fast.
Inside the slippery seclusion of the shower I soon realized I had to wear a suit to the summit. This led me to sneak into my father’s closet, which with my mother down in the kitchen equaled a viable take. I smelled mothballs and this closet didn’t appear to house the lion’s share of my dad’s wardrobe. Putting the oversized suit on my body I was ready after the soap was properly applied to my hair to look in the mirror. I was dying for girls hair mousse but it was downstairs. It sucks so fucking bad
“The death of larceny is hesitation.” John Daley
The mirror, OK, not bad, not great but not disastrous you know so might even laugh. But what do they know anyway? What do they know about anything? Have they ever stopped to ask me how I’m doing? Nah, nah just what the hell are you doing? That’s what they ask. If they did ask me, one time if I was all right? You know I might even say, no. I might say that I’m a bit fucked up. I might say that sometimes I feel alone. Sometimes I cry, punch walls and ask Jesus to protect me cause I don’t think anyone else besides me will and sometimes I think I don’t do the best job of it. I would say some shit like that. If they ever asked that’s just some shit I might say
I was happy with the suit and didn’t like the mirror. Climbing out the window I felt like a young rapper on the rise. I’m shady. And was always role-playing. Regardless I was climbing out of my window because my mother would have a thousand questions if she saw me leaving the house in broad daylight wearing dad’s suit. I hopped on my silver Mongoose and peddled my way towards my first business meeting hooked on a feeling.