Reminiscing

 

All names have been altered to protect the gui-- I mean-- innocent. :o)

My dad used to reminisce about his schoolmates and friends growing up in West Texas, and I'd laught at some of their names. Junebug, Li'l Beethey, Ray-Ray, Boom-Boom, Dollar, Nuk-Nuk, Blockhead, and of course the obligatory Pookie. Now as a grown man looking back, I'm doing the same, and the names are sometimes even more outrageous. And the cycle continues...


I should probably start with Damon, my oldest friend. Known him since the playground at Runnels Kindergarten. He used to walk cool like Sherman Hemsley every now and then, being silly. In first and second grade, we rocked the Michael Jackson jackets together, not knowing any better. "Heeee-heeeeee-heeeeeee! Whoooooooo!" We tried to moonwalk, but we just wore out the soles of our shoes. Hamdulillah, he is now Muslim, too, and I hope it's easy for him in that small town we grew up in. His wife and baby son are there, so he ain't leavin' no time soon. We used to call him Snap because when people would get out of line with him, he'd just snap on them like my own grandmother would do. No facial expression or look of anger, just an @zz whoopin'!


Then there's Darin. He got the nickname "Lexus Bandit" from stealing his mom's Lexus back in 1992, then crashing it in a police chase. He got caught because after he got away and snuck back into his house, he had his clothes on under the covers.

But that's my man, and when everyone else might forsake you and believe you did something you didn't, he'll be your advocate. He's a stand-up guy. Wouldn't loan him my car, though...


Then there's Nashon. Met him on the bus on the first day of 6th grade, and we hit it off. You talk about someone who paid close attention to what others say, that's him. If you wanted to know how others felt about you, he'd tell you. I'll never forget the crush he had on the girl that lived behind him, down the street from me. That crushed lasted longer than a decade! And talk about a niyyah who could fight! The irony is that he could have pledged Omega and hazed his hazers if he wanted to, but he pledged Kappa instead. He pledged even before he pledged, if you know what I mean! When he finally became one, he reached Nirvana and his feet never touched the ground when he walked again... :o)

My man Nathan must be mentioned next. He was so cool that our other homie, Tosh, nicknamed him Cool. That became his nickname around the school and the neighborhood.

Of course it helps when you resemble a hit singer named Garfield Bright who was every Black woman's hearth throb in the middle 90s. I owe a lot to him. For one thing, he taught me a little about how to fight and a lot about how not to. When I finally put it to good use in 94, it was helpful. Plus, he would patiently practice basketball with me for hours on end, and coach me very well at it. Not that I was a good student, but he was a good teacher. He's two years older, but he always treated me like an equal, and I never forget that. Between him and my other boxing teacher, I owe plenty, and that takes me to my next one...

Creon was a baaaaaad motha- shut yo' mouth! I'm just talkin' 'bout Creon! He's also 2 years older, but I tell you what... we all thought he was a good four to just look at him. He was always tall and big for his age. And hilarious, too!

He'd keep you in stitches for hours on end and wouldn't let up! When he started cutting hair, I started to really learn a lot from him then, about life in general, but specifically women and self-defense. From him, you could learn what women want men to know but won't tell, and you could learn how to beat back just about anybody within 25 pounds of your own weight. This man could bench press 400 pounds at 17 years old, but wouldn't hurt anyone without necessity. I'll never forget when a cop started some mess with him outside of a bowling alley, and he didn't flinch at all or back down, and in the end it took at least 4 cops to get him down. Recently, I learned that his father passed away, and I regret not being in Baton Rouge to go and visit him. After all, he was there for me when I often times didn't expect it. What he taught me helped me to protect myself against over-sized cowards 12 years later. The rest of the help came from 4 other friends I'll be mentioning. Even now, Creon has a boxing record devoid of knock-outs or knock-downs. His only losses are technicalities until today. He wasn't nicknamed "Brick" by others in Concord for no reason!

I met Mack in high school when I was a freshman and he a junior. He and Nathan were also tight. Mack, a mean DJ on dem wheels and a real hip-hop junkie, could come up with some tunes and mixes.

Mack is that good guy we all know that people don't give enough credit but we know will never do you wrong. You talk about who never offended anyone just to do it or out of treachery, and Mack is it. An only child, he still knows how to treat his friends better than brothers often do. Considering the environment, that's not only a good trait but an abnormally good trait at that. Baton Rouge, especially Black Baton Rouge, is slave-minded, messy, treacherous, fickle, negative, and referred to as 'Bout Retarded' and 'Big Raggedy' for a reason. In the midst of this, Mack is steady, positive, just and fair, broad-minded, mentally free, principled, and upright. When someone says bad about you and you're not there, he'll say good about you until you show up. That's Mack for you. I got a job because of him, and got fat from it, too. Pepperoni's, remember that, Mack? I learned the value of standard-shift automobiles from him, and to this day it's the only one I'll buy.

Now, my next homie is Jabari, with his Aaron Hall-looking self.

You could always find him and his twin Bakari, for whom I couldn't think of a fake name, at Brian's playing the nintendo. Between calling me 'burrito boy' and 'chico', they taught me how to trade insults. I learned from them how to hurt people's feelings till their ancestors cried in the grave. But it was all in fun, and that skill came in handy, too. When they moved from Baton Rouge to Maryland, I was madder than a fothermucker! And I was glad when they moved back to go to college. I'll never forget what they asked me when they came back and I saw them. "Did you ever whoop TJ's ---?" Thanks to Nathan's and Creon's training, the answer is yes. He gave up before even being overpowered. 

That brings me to TJ. Now, I didn't change his nickname because it's a nickname, his real name not even used in everyday life, so his privacy is still intact.

This is not a friend and never was. See, in every neighborhood and school, there is someone that looks for an easy fight and will pounce as soon as he perceives one, even going after people much smaller and younger. TJ was that guy in our neighborhood. He was so doggone anxious for a fight he thought he could win, I baited him right into what I wanted him to do, and he did it one day in his own driveway in '94. I never even won the fight by overpowering him, I won because by putting up a fight at all, he gave up and said to my man Nation, "Come get your boy!" Of course, he got his nose broken years later in college at a football game in which he was drum major. I didn't know it at the time, but I had something to do with it. Now that I do know, I'm glad I did and have no regrets about it. It's been 17 years since that last scrap in his driveway, but I mention him here because he's been a lesson about something bigger than himself. Through him, I learned that people in general are much easier to lead the wrong way than the right. He, in a sense, amassed a following in Black Baton Rouge that has profited him until today. He needed no upstanding character traits, no extra intelligence, nor anything else special to become a 'leader'. He simply was unworthy of being followed and enough women thought he was cute. His flaws were no surprise to me, pleasant or unpleasant. Everyone has enemies. What's surprising was how people followed him until today, when they will spend their rent money to get haircuts or hairstyles, clothes, and then admission into one of his parties. Many nicer and more worthy people could not charge a nickel for admission into a party and get it. This truth relies on the small-mindedness of Black Baton Rouge as a whole, and I look forward to the day that it is no longer true.

I can't leave out my mans from 3rd grade on, Todd. My best memories are in my own backyard, swimming with my brother and friends. But my next-best memories are at his house and in his backyard. We played Commando in his backyard and in the lot next door to his house, and we'd then swim in my backyard, and then gorge on pizza. Summers were the best! He's now practicing law, I think, and I'm always glad to hear about him doing well. And after all these years, he's still as skinny as he was in high school, ain't aged a bit. If I want to look back in the past, I just look at him.

And my man Duncan, how can I forget him? He's one of 4 guys who saved my life. Just as 12 guys came to close in on me, he and 3 others covered my sides and back so that the 12 had to come at me head-on and fall over each other, which helped me out immensely. Had it not been for Greg and them 3 others, Gat, Grevious, and Simien, I'd have been in a coma if I came out of it at all. I'll never forget them. I'm glad now that Duncan is doing well back in 'Africa', re-modeling homes. And he's good, too. I'll endorse him, anyday. Look him up at his company, Southern Living Contractors.

And my man, Mark, who went to middle and high school with me, but I got to know as a grown-up here in Atlanta. He moved here, started working for the Atlanta Police, and promptly got me arrested for being such a staunch Black militant... just kidding. But when he lived here, he got me through many a job, helped me keep my family together, and more.

Without his help, I'd have lost many a job and all that relies on it. And through him, my wife learned that Louisianans are not all the idiots that I am on occassion. She learned that some of us Louisianans actually can read and tell funny jokes! :o) I was so happy when he got married, and then sad when he moved back to 'Africa', but glad he got employment using what he learned in college. This below is an animation of him getting to work in the morning commute in the wilderness of Louisiana. :o)

I'd put up more of my friends, but I don't have pics of all of them, and don't have room or their permission. If any of you reading this are left out, it's because I don't have a way for you to say you approve of being on here, or because I don't know what's going on with you, or both. The one obvious exception doesn't apply, of course. I owe him nothing. But for the rest of you, that's why. Lord knows I miss you and the times.

At times, I go back to Louisian to visit my own son and my parents, and I wonder about whom he and my daughters will reminisce and write, and what their nicknames will be. And it goes on...


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