Chapter I "BORN INTO POVERTY"
I have been blessed and loved throughout my life although there has been lows as well as high times. Many things carried me through and I hope to share those insights as support to others. I offer you my story in order to allow your thoughts to wander in an others path before critically wallowing in ones own. If you know one thing, know this - "NOW IS NOT FOREVER AND TIME IS ON YOUR SIDE" (Quote by; RJ.V).
Born a male and second of four children to very young parents whose only income was what is now known as welfare. Our apartment on the seventh floor of the "The Columbus Home Projects" located on 7th Avenue in Newark, New Jersey, overlooked the black topped stick ball field that laid before the rise of another gigantic twelve story, red brick apartment building. Life to me back then was fun and exciting, there were always people everywhere, friends were easy to find and always plenty to do.
One thing I remember enjoying was when I learned to fly down those seven flights of stairs by sliding my hands down both the left and right railings as I leaned forward as far as I can, then just before my feet left the top step I gripped my hands tight on those railings and took a giant leap (of faith), swung my legs under me then loosened my grip so my body could follow the momentum as I flew through the air until the landing interrupted the flow of gravity. With increasing excitement and speed I turned left and repeated thirteen more times until I hit the bottom floor. This venture was even more of an adrenaline rush when I raced anyone who took the elevator. For those who are interested, I took the elevator up
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My maternal Aunt, Uncle and six cousins, at that time, lived in the same building on the third floor. And my paternal Aunt, Uncle and three cousins lived on the second floor. Their apartments overlooked the parking lot. We were the lucky family; we could see when other kids were outside playing on the ball field, they couldn't, Nah, Nah, Nanah, Nah.
Allen Rogers was my best friend at the time, my mom was also friends with his mother, Doris Rogers. I always felt comfortable around Mrs. Rogers she was my second mom, when I couldn't find mine - I ran to her. They lived on the eleventh floor, Doris and my mom took turns babysitting each others family. Mr. Rogers was a male nurse and worked the night shift, I hardly ever saw him but when I did he was always nice to me. Allen was good at jumping stairs as well so we raced all the time. Racing eleven floors was better then jumping seven. Sometimes he'd win, sometimes I'd win, we had so much fun. Allen and I were the same in every way but one; the color of our skin.
I didn't know we were poor, although family and friends lived there, my mother HATED the stigma of living in "THE PROJECTS". Coming from a middle class family, she could not understand why the low income man she married, and the father of her four children, was not interested in making money to support his family. His good looks, athletic body, great guitar playing and beautiful singing voice was beginning to wane in importance. The bad boy she fell in love with in high school was still a bad boy and, uncontrollably, she was still in love. That love however, did not stop them from fighting - and they fought. The first big fight was followed by my mom, with four young children in tow, leaving my dad. That is until they made up and got back together before moving to Florida. Six months later Dad wanted to move back to New Jersey. The Fighting, the leaving, the moving and getting back together continued for the next eight years. Within those years I had attended eleven schools.
I started Kindergarten at McKinley Elementary School, then moved to St. Petersburg, Fl for first grade, moved back to New Jersey as the family separated. I got to live with my paternal Grandma and Grandpa in Belleville and attended No. 2 school for second grade and part of third grade. The relationship switch of my mom and dad was switched back on, they bought a one hundred year old house on W. Market street in Newark N.J. then transferred me to N.8th St. school. They wanted to put me back in third grade but I did not want to go. I had already spent time in third grade at No. 2 and I was not going to go again. With all the crying and yelling a seven year old can muster, I let them have it. The principle made me a deal; If I could pass a test, he will put me in the fourth grade. Mad and determined, I took, and passed, the test - thanks to having a good teacher in Belleville who already covered everything on the test. My mom and the Principle walked me to fourth grade, my new class at my new school. It was different, totally different. (To be continue)
CHAPTER II "COLOR BLIND"
