Heaven

Heaven

I was thinking about heaven this morning and what I think It will be like.

The reason I thought about it, is because this is the beginning of the Lenten season. I was raised Catholic, and consider myself Catholic, even though I don’t attend church and I don’t follow a lot of the Church’s teachings. I do like this new Pope. He seems to be more “ Christ-like” than any other Pope I can remember.

Anyway, when I was a kid, my parents sent me to Catechism, which is Saturday school for Catholic kids. You learn about sin and the act of contrition, confessing your sins, stuff like that. One of the things they taught you was you cannot eat meat on Friday during Lent. In general, we didn’t eat meat on Friday when I was growing up. My Dad had been raised Catholic and my Mom followed his tradition.

The lady, I don’t think she was a Nun, who taught us on Saturday, said that if we ate a hamburger on Friday during Lent, we would go to hell. The only way we wouldn’t go to hell is if we truly did not remember that it was Friday and ate the hamburger. But if we knowingly sinned and died, we would go to Hell.

I started religious instruction when I was in the 2^nd grade. I think I was 7 at the time. Do you have any idea what it does to a young mind to think if you sin and die, that you are immediately going to Hell? It leaves a mark! My mom would say that the teacher didn’t mean that, that it wasn’t true, but I think because it was taught to me during those religious instructions ,that I believed it.

Anyway, this morning, I was thinking about Heaven. I have not lived a pious life. I have done my fair share of dirt. Sin has been my friend or more than one occasion. But, I think like everyone else, I have a chance of getting into Heaven.

I think when I die and get to Heaven, there will be a line. And a fence. And next to the Pearly Gates, there will be a fence, just like you see surrounding jails and schools. Chain link, with no barb wire. And I believe you can touch it. And I think when I get to the front of the line, I’ll be told I have some work to do. And that people have vouched for me, like my Mom and my Mama Nell, but that I still have some things to work on. So I’ll have to wait outside the fence. I can see myself walking over to the fence, and finding my Mom and Mama Nell and maybe my Aunt Bernice, and my Uncle John, and others who have gone before me. And I think my Mom will be pragmatic and tell me I need to pay my penance before I can come home. And I will totally understand. And I think I’ll see a friend at the fence, one in particular comes to mind. And I’ll ask him how he’s doing and he’ll say fine. And I’ll tell him I’m hungry and ask him for a hamburger and a coke. And he’ll say “no problem, I’ll be back later”.  And I’ll mill around with all the other people in purgatory, just wandering, not doing anything, thinking about what we could have done better and at some point, I’ll see my friend at the fence, with my burger and coke. Any my Mom will visit me regularly, and it will be like that for a while, until it isn’t..

DC road trip

The summer after I graduated from High School, I friend of mine invited me to go to Howard University with me. Her boyfriend and mine were friends, and both were jealous and mean (she broke up with hers; I had a baby with mine). They both played basketball and went away to camp that summer for about 2 weeks.

She had been accepted to Howard and was going for some type of freshman orientation. She asked me to come along basically for the company. I got permission from my parents, packed a bag and off we went.

Her parents had a Mercedes. They lived in a part of Westbury where other affluent blacks lived and she had graduated from Lutheran (Lu) High. Her parents did not particularly care for me and I knew it. My mother thought she was a good influence and would cosign anytime I went out with her.

She came by on Friday evening, picked me up and off we went. I had packed a really cute outfit for Saturday night and had on a cute outfit, because we were going straight from the car to the party! She was supposed to check in that morning, but told them she had something to do and they were fine with her checking in on Saturday. We were going to hang out and party all night ( this was called “breaking night”) She would get her room assignment and then go to the seminars/ meetings she was assigned to. I planned to help her set up her room and then take a long nap. The rooms at Howard were cooled with central air! Only the best for Black America’s best and brightest!!

We made pretty good time and got to DC in about 4 hours. We had that Mercedes wide open. The sun had gone down and she had spoken to a friend of hers before she left who was taking a summer class…could we bring liquor and soda? And ice? Sure! No problem. She knew where to stop. It was close to Howard, but it had everything.

We drive to the neighborhood where Howard is located. It is in the hood, but we’re black and from New York, so you know, we’re not afraid of anything!!

We park, get out of the car and go into a corner bodega. The front of it is all the things you would expect, beer, chips, beefaroni, ketchup, ice pops, candy bars. To the rear is where all the hard liquor is. I’m a little shocked, because in NY, you can’t sell liquor and beer in the same store.  But I’m in DC. They can’t vote for President, but your tuition is automatically in state if you live there, so it can be a win if you look at it like that.

As we get out of the car, there’s a guy standing in front of the store. Our age, fine, super fine, curly hair, light eyes, drinking a beer, one leg behind him against the wall..um humh, he looks good! He says hello ladies, we say hello back, he holds the door and we all walk in.

Now is a good time to tell you what we are wearing. I have on a super short pleated school girl skirt, with an off the shoulder red top. On my feet, I am wearing black rubber gladiator sandals. I have my hair in a pony tail and and carrying my mother’s crocodile purse.

You read the correctly. My mother had a small crocodile valise (that was the official name). It was black and my Dad purchased it for her at Arnold Constable ( when’s the last time you heard that name?). It cost $250 in 1972 ( which today would be worth about $1500). I had this bag because this was in the very early days of punk rock and vintage. I loved this bag, and my Mom did, too. She would not let me carry it, because it was so expensive. So, I snuck it out of the bottom drawer of her dresser and into my friend’s Mercedes.

We walk into the store and make our way back to the hard liquor. At that time, I drank Jack Daniels ( you could drink at 18 in 1982). I smell them and hear them before I see them…hamburgers? Yep, they had a very small counter in the back of the store where you could by hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fries. So you mean I can buy a cheeseburger, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a 6 pack of Bud in the same store? Welcome to Washington DC! I order a hamburger and cheeseburger for me and my homegirl and she is chatting with the guy who came in with us. She’s holding the bottle of Jack and he has a bottle of Coke. I grab the burgers, get the beer and get in line behind them. He is holding her by the waist and turns around to look at me. Fine, so fine. I could feel myself melting into his gaze. We put all our stuff on the counter. We open our bags to pay, but he pulls a $20 out of his pocket, pays for everything (this is 1982) and we walk out the store, with him carrying our bags.

My friend in fumbling for the key in her purse, because she was hoping he would ask her for her number (this is a classic move). She is standing at the rear of her parent’s car and he is standing about 2 feet away from us both. Now I open my purse and realize I have my MontBlanc pen. My parent’s got it for me when I graduated from High School, not 6 weeks before this. I had it, my phone book, my wallet and my makeup kit in that bag. I turned around to offer it to him, to show him that he may have wanted her, but that I was no slouch. I opened my mouth to say, “Here, use my pen” and found myself looking down the barrel of a gun. It wasn’t that big and was the kind you use when you play Russian roulette. I looked at him and then my friend. She was looking at the gun, too. Her purse was hanging open off her arm. He looked at us both and said “back the fuck up”. We didn’t move so he said it again, this time a little louder and a little stronger. I immediately back into the car and jumped. He said “put your bags on the car and turn around to face it. It seemed like forever, but we both managed to do it without saying anything else. He took my friend’s purse, my purse and our bag with our liquor and food. And then he ran across the street, in between 2 cars and into the night. It took us about a minute to gain our composure and figure out what was happening. We had just been robbed! He took all our money and the key to my friend’s parent’s car. He hadn’t. She had put it in her pocket, so that we had. But we had no money to get home, and she was supposed to go to this program. We were already late. All I can remember was going to a pay phone and her telling her parents that she’d lost her purse, but not the car key. Her parents were not happy, especially because she was with me, but they told her she should come home and they would figure it out. We got in the car and literally made it home with the gas we had in the car, and could not pay the toll. Most we just drove through and at the Verrazano told them our purses had been stolen in DC. The toll booth clerk was very empathetic, but made me fill out paperwork with my name and address ( I was now driving). I was too dumb to lie, so I filled out my real name and address. When it came to my home, I broke down and told my Dad what happened. He was disappointed but didn’t tell my Mom. I did not want them to know I was not going to Howard to use the library, but was there instead to hang out and get drunk..

I never told my Mom about her purse. She was not well and died a few years after that happened. I also never told my parent’s about my pen. I just said I lost it, and denied using my Mom’s purse.

My friend went to Howard, where she met and married her husband. They live in California and are right wing conservatives. He grew up a Mormon and made her convert to marry him. She and I are both much so much different than we were that night. But on the occasion we get together, we always talk about how fine our robber was and how naïve we were then.

Gary

Many years ago, I was working in a kitchen, baking bread. I love baking. It is never work and I consider myself a good baker.

I worked for a woman who could not bake, but had been to culinary school. She gave everyone who graduated from the same culinary school she did a job. Right out of school, years of experience, did not matter. She hired them. At the cap. So they ended up making about $3 a hour less than me, who then had to train them.

One day, I get to work and there’s a guy in the dept. I do not recognize. I introduce myself, he says his name is Gary. I ask him what he’s doing there and he says he was hired by our boss. Okay, no problem. I go and find her, and ask why she hired him. “ he’s a culinary school graduate and will help us take our product to the next level, up a notch. This guy knows a lot about bread and ours is going to look spectacular!’ okay…but we didn’t need anyone. He’s extra. I can tell she’s irritated…” you’ll train him, he’ll train you and the bread will be the winner!!’ okay… no problem.

So I go back to work and ask him if he’s baked before. He quotes what school he’s been to and what awards he won when he was there. No problem. But have you ever baked as a profession? “No, but I know what I’m doing!’ okay, you got it. Let’s get the dough up on the table, you cut, I’ll shape. “sounds good. Please help me get the dough up on the table”….really, it’s maybe 25 pounds…” I don't want to ruin the gluten our mixer tried so hard to make!’ okay. No problem, let’s get it up on the table.

He asks me the weight of the loaf. 1 pound. The first cut is almost 2 pounds, second is a little better, but he is making a mess of this dough. I give him some advice…a pound of dough is roughly the size of a man’s hand, use that as a guide. He does not respond but uses my advice and we are off.

We work together off and on of the next week. He is okay, but I can tell the other bakers do not respect him. He will not join in our conversations and spends a lot of time speaking to our boss.

After about a week, he has loosened up a little more and will now participate in our conversations. I am on the bench, cutting and shaping, because he has to stay hydrated and take a break. So literally, the mixer is mixing, I am cutting and he is standing and watching us work. We’re laughing about something random and he makes a comment to disagree. I look at him and ask “what are you, nuts?”

He puts his water bottle down and leaves the kitchen. The mixer and I are so busy we don’t think anything about it, other than; maybe he needed to go to the bathroom.

15 minutes later, our boss comes to the kitchen and calls me to her office. She asks what I said to Gary. I really can’t remember and kind of brush her off. She is outwardly very mad and I cannot understand why. I recount the conversation to her, including the part about being nuts.

“And therein lies the problem. “

“What?”

“You asked him was he nuts. That offended him”.

If you know me, you know, that is a rhetorical question to me. I meant no harm and felt badly that I had offended him.

She said he left but was willing to come back to work if I apologized. I said of course I would. She said she would call him and to see if he would come in the next day.

I get to work the next day to begin my shift and my boss is in the kitchen waiting for me. “Gary would like to speak to you in my office”.

I walk in, close the door and offer him a genuine and heartfelt apology. I did not mean to offend him and felt bad about it.

He launched into a solid 10 minute diatribe about mental health and how words hurt and I should be ashamed of myself. Mental illness is a disease. Would I make fun of him if he had diabetes?! No, of course not. But I did not know he was mentally ill, and apologized again.

Our boss asked could he work with me. “of course, I am a consummate professional” (shoulders back, smug look).  Okay she says, then let’s get back to work!!

I got back to the kitchen and get started. But I am a little pissed of myself. We have been carrying this guy for the last week, he is not pulling his weight and now he’s offended? Guess what?! I’m offended.

He comes to the kitchen and I am cutting with a purpose. He cannot keep up and asks me can I help. I do but continue to cut like a fiend. I don’t want to be here. I’m pissed off. I just want to finish the day and go home.

We are working so fast, no one is talking. He tries to engage our mixer in conversation, but he can tell that I mean business and is working as fast I as I am to keep up. Our baker comes in and is like “whoa, what happened here?”

I don’t speak, just continue to work. We keep up this pace for 2 hours straight, when I announce that because of the pace we’ve kept and the amount of work we’ve gotten done, we’re going to do a little deep cleaning before we go home.

I can tell Gary is beginning to crack. And honestly, we aren’t even stretched out. He looks at me and says” I’m going to get a soda”….okay..

I am almost finished with 2^nd dough before I realize how long he’s been gone. Our mixer has gone to lunch and I ask him when he gets back did he see Gary in the break room, “nope”.

I peak in our boss’ office, empty. Take a quick look outside, nothing. Break room, empty.

This guy left.

The next day I get to work and asked my boss had she heard from him. No, but he was probably still embarrassed because of what I said to him....I think to myself..no, he was lazy and did not know or want to work hard.

A year goes by and I am shopping at Costco with my Dad. I would never buy anything from the bakery at Costco, but I always like to see what they have going on. I walk through the department, and then past their kitchen. It is open and you can talk to the bakers.

So, I’m standing there admiring their handy work, when I see someone I think I know. Cannot place where I know him from, but a few more seconds later and I realize its….GARY.

He does not see me. He walks away from me, into their back room.  I call one of the ladies behind the counter over and begin to chat with her. I ask lots of random questions and finally get her to name the people who do their production….”and Gary is our head baker”….what?!  seriously?!

I ask could I speak to him, I have a question about a bread they make. “Yes, of course, he loves to speak to our customers!”

I walk away from the window, because I know if he sees me, he’ll just turn around and leave.

He comes to the window, smiling. I approach him from the side.

“Hi Gary, did you ever get that soda?”

He turns white. His face, his lips, ears, everything, turns around and walks away. The young lady who had been helping me walks over..”did he answer your question?’

Yes he did.

Jackie

I have a lot of longtime friends, many of them going as far back as kindergarten.

One in particular has lived a pretty colorful life. He has been all over the world. He married late in life after having a child with a woman that he wasn’t even involved with. I have always admired him because he a true free spirit. What attracted him to his current wife? “She made a good salary and knew how to keep a house”. Not exactly romantic love, but everyone is different.

Many years ago, when he wasn’t seriously involved with anyone, he met a woman named Jackie. They hit it off and were a couple for about 18 months. They were a couple as much as anyone could be a couple with this guy. He was in love with a woman that was a mutual friend of ours. She was married, with kids and literally did not know he was alive. Since he couldn’t have her, he had everyone else.

He and Jackie set up house. She worked in the medical field and they seemed happy. She had a job that moved her from location to location, every 6 to 18 months. She liked it. The money was good and she liked meeting new people. She and my childhood friend were together for about a year before she had to move. They decided to make it a clean break. They spent that night before she left having great sex. The next morning, he got up, helped her pack her car and she left.

The next week, he asked his wife to marry him. She was good with the child he’d had and as I stated earlier, she made good money. The best part was they did not live together. She owned a house that she did not want to give up and he liked where he lived, so they decided to maintain 2 homes. He would go to her house, or she would come to his every weekend. Sunday after dinner he went back to his, or she to hers. It seemed weird to me, but worked for them.

2 years after Jackie left, she came back. He saw the car in front of his house, but did not recognize it. When he got out of his car, she got out of hers, yelling “I’m back!” At first, he thought she just came to visit. He then realized that she had come back to stay. To say he panicked was an understatement. He called me from work the next day, asking what he should do. He had not told her he was getting married, even though the talked roughly every 3 months. He didn’t tell me until the last minute and I was invited by text.

She explained to him that she had accepted an assignment about 2 towns over from where he lived and had given up her apartment. She had brought only what she needed and was ready to resume her life with him. This guy wouldn’t even let her in the house. His wife lived less than 10 minutes away by car and his neighbors knew he was married. He proposed that they go out to dinner. He took her to Applebees (this was their favorite restaurant) and told her she could not move in. Told her he was married, about his living situation. She remained calm, but was very angry. He told her he had a friend she could move it with (this was a woman he had an ongoing relationship with. He has paid her rent for probably the last 10 years….ssshhhh, it’s a secret). In the end, while she was upset, she appreciated him helping her. Her assignment was for 6 months to a year. She called the company she worked for and opted for the 6 month assignment. Happy that she was happy, they started having sex again. He even took her away to AC for being so agreeable. And every Friday, he left work early and went to his wife’s house, if she did not come to his.

He had to be careful. He was actively involved with 3 women. Only the one whose rent he paid knew about the other 2. It took some careful planning, but he pulled it off. He spent holidays with all 3, explaining that he was on call at his job and had to leave early, or get there late for that reason.

This is a man that made good money at his job and because of his trade, does work on the side. He makes at least $250,000 a year. He learned early how to hustle, because his father hustled. His father provided for his family, although he did have more than one family. His mother knew, and drank to dull the pain. His mother passed and then his Dad. At this father’s funeral, 2 other women and 3 children showed up, claiming to be related. He was happy his Mom did not have to witness this, because if she did, it certainly would have killed her. His sister asked them to leave and there was big ruckus. The Funeral Director finally had to ask them to leave.

Every Friday night, when he went to his wife’s house, they had Chipotle. He loved Mexican food, having lived in California for many years and traveling and working in Mexico. He thought Chipotle was the best Mexican food he’d ever had for the price.

So he would leave his job, run errands and then go to his wife’s house. He didn’t like going when she wasn’t here. She had 2 adult children that he thought were lazy and did not like to be in the house with them when their mother wasn’t home. And every Friday night, his wife would go by the Chipotle near her job and get dinner for him. When she got home, she put his burrito on a plate, with guacamole, salsa and chips and opened a Presidente for him. She sat and listened to him talk about his week; lovingly watch him eat that burrito.

He would always call me during the day, never at night (“night time is for my women”). One morning he called me and I could tell he was worried. “Jackie wants to meet me for dinner”. I didn’t think it was a big deal…I mean, they were having sex. She knew he was married. Maybe she just wanted to eat out. I told him if he was worried to bring along the woman Jackie was living with. “No, she wants to talk to me alone, about something.” Did he think Jackie was pregnant? “No, we always use protection, I can’t risk taking something home to my wife!” I called him an asshole. He would fuck around on his wife, but wanted to keep her safe from an STD…why not just stop fucking around? “You know me and you know that ain’t possible!” Okay I said. What did he think she wanted? He wasn’t sure, but agreed to meet her at an Applebees in the next county.

He texted me at 5 the next morning, asking if he could call me. I told him I was on my way to work and would call him later in the day.

When I called him, he was calm and relaxed. “Jackie realizes I’m not going to ever leave my wife or marry her, so she’s decided to move on. She’s happy and told me she found someone else.” I was a little shocked. I had met Jackie years ago and I knew she was really smart. I also knew she was crazy. This friend of mine had dated at least 3 women named Jackie and I called all of the “Wackie Jackie”. They were just all crazy. Anyway, I told him congratulations, chatted a few more minutes and then got off the phone.

About 3 weeks went by and I hadn’t heard a word from him. So I called his cell. It was off. I didn’t have another number for him so I checked his FB page. Gone. Now I started to worry. Called a mutual friend of ours that said he had not heard from him in about 3 weeks. I knew his brothers, called them and the only one I could get in contact with told me his brother needed some time with his family and would contact me when the time was right.

What the fuck did that mean?

I pulled up to my job a month later and as soon as I got out of my car, I saw him. He had lost a lot of weight and looked like he had been in a fight. He smiled, said he was happy to see me and I asked if I had time to talk. I really didn’t and asked him if he could come back later. He said he would just wait, that he needed to talk to him friend J.

3 hours later I took my break, and listened to him tell me a story that sounded like something from a movie.

After the dinner at Applebees, Jackie called and said she was leaving that weekend. Could she see him one last time? She wanted to make love to him one last time. He agreed to let her in his house, if she came late. She agreed and came that night. They made love and she left. He checked the house to see if she left anything and she had not.

Friday, he leaves work and goes home to cut his lawn. Leaves his house around 6pm and rides over to his wife. He likes to eat at 6:30 every night. Opens that door, walks in the house. He knows his wife is home, because he saw her car in the driveway.  He looks to right, where her dining room is, and  there’s nothing on the table. He calls her name and notices a few grains of rice on the carpet. When he looks up, his wife hits him full force, in the face with the burrito. Rice, chicken, beans are all over his face, in his hair, on the wall behind him, everywhere. Before he can asked her what happened, she smacks him in the face with the other hand and starts to beat him in the chest. He thinks she gone crazy. She’s crying and spitting and all he can make out every 4^th or 5^th word is “Jackie”.

I am trying not to laugh, or say I told you so, because he is visibly upset. Turns out, all this time, Jackie had been plotting. She figured out that she was living with his other girlfriend. She figured out where his wife lived and where she worked. And she was mad. And was about to get even.

So, one Friday, his wife goes to Chipotle to get his burrito. She gets in line and notices a woman that gets in line 2 or 3 people behind her. By the time she’s ready to order, this woman is right behind her. The team member asks her what she’d like- “a burrito”. “What would you like in it?”  Before she can say “chicken” the woman behind her replies for her.  The team member asks what else and the woman makes the burrito just like she would. She turns to her and asks her who she is. She replies, “You know me, I’m Jackie!” She replies that she does not know her. Jackie says” Sure you do.” She says that Jackie then begins to blow very slowly in her face and says “You recognize that smell? That’s _____’s cock. I blew him last night, all night, over and over.” He said Jackie then smacked his wife and ran out the Chipotle. They called the police, and asked her if she wanted medical attention but she said no. She just took her burrito, came home and hit him in the face.

And he had to beg her, but she agreed to take him back!!! I was shocked. But she made him cut us all off. That’s why he was off FB. She accused him of having sex with every woman he was on FB with, including me (that did not happen, ever. I kissed him, many years before, when we had both just graduated from high school. He was a horrible kisser and I’ve learned that any man who cannot kiss cannot fuck, so there was never a possibility of that happening. Although, he did offer to take me to Vegas once and also offered to put tires on my car- such a romantic!!). She was understandably broken hearted, but said she could get over it with time. She asked him did he love her. He said yes, but that he was not in love with her. I thought that was cold blooded and told him so. He told me I was too sensitive. She also tracked all his calls on his cell phone, because he was on a family plan. Apparently, whomever is the primary can gain access to all of your texts. That’s when should found out how deep the deception went. She found where he had taken trips with other women and told her it was business related, when it really wasn’t. He bought a woman he knew a car after hers had been flooded during Hurricane Sandy. Helped a woman rebuild her house after a tree fell through it. Gave a woman a pedicure. Paid to have another’s lawn cut for a year. All kinds of crazy stuff. He did it because he was having sex with them. And this is how she found out.

We still talk, but only if he comes to my job to say hi. I refuse to talk to him by cellphone. Don’t want that crazy chick, or any other one calling me about him!

knock off bags

Went to Nassau Educators Federal Credit Union today. I have banked here for at least 20 years and have seen it grow from one location in Nassau to about 6. I love the one out by Roosevelt Field Mall.
Fridays are always busy because it's payday. I'm amazed at how many people have to come to the bank to cash or deposit their check. Anyway at the bank waiting on line to get cash for my Dad. Over my right shoulder I hear a commotion. 2 relatively well dressed women, who appear to be teacher's are arguing over what they thought was a Louis Vuitton bag.. I have carried knock offs and I have sold knock offs. There are many good ones out there. This one was not any good. You can go online and learn the tricks of the trade to know what to look for. The ones they have these days are pretty good, not great, but if you do not know your bags, you would be fooled. I can tell because I used to sell them, for the record, never Vuitton.
For the most part, they have it figured out. The exterior, the hardware, everything. Two things give them away for me, the weight and the interior. Louis Vuitton bags are always heavy, there is some heft to them. And while the pattern in the interior may be different from line to line, it is never cheetah print. big red flag, flashing red lights! I looked at it and just smiled. And to think, there 2 ladies, that were arguing over this bag are educators! Teachers! Arguing over the validity of a bag, because one moved it, ever so much, with her hand when she went to put her own bag on the counter where you sign your check, or fill out your deposit slip. And this chick flipped!! Accused the other one of trying to steal her bag, that was $2100- I thought to myself a real one would be $2100, not that cheap copy you're carrying. they got right in to it! My time was done, I had the money my Dad requested and I left as 2 people came from behind the front desk to break it up and I realized that I had spent $2100 on a handbag, that was probably on the floor of my closet..

electing Barack Obama

I remember Barack Obama's initial run for president. So many of us focused on him, because he was black. Officially, he is of mixed race, but remember no matter what your lineage or ethnicity is, if you look black, you are treated as such.
I waited on line that cool November morning for over an hour. I had never seen that many people voting in Lakeview for anything...no school budget or local election had brought out that many people. We were so proud. Barack Obama was so smart and articulate, part Baptist preacher, part older cousin or big brother, he was just cool and made it look so easy. We all prayed (and continue) to pray for him...but I digress...so I waited, voted for him, caught the train and went to work. Got home that night, just as they were getting ready to declare him the winner. I called my Dad. He like all of us was so proud. He told me the story of how he and my mother would travel north with my sister. They would drive day and night, only stopping to use the restroom. My mom would drive at night, because a black man at night would draw more attention. My sister, still in grade school would carry the money. This was during the 50's, many years before civil rights. My parents were both college educated and teachers. They finally moved North after the principal that the school where my Dad told him was making good money for a n#gg@r. Yep. He went home, and told my Mo and sister they were moving....again, I digress. So, when he and I talked that night, he was so proud and happy. He and my Mom always told me I could be anything I wanted to. That night, was proof.

#1

Years ago, before I was married, I used to date a man that worked at the Citicorp Center. To say we dated is kind of an overstatement. But we really enjoyed each other’s company, and every Friday I picked him up from work and we would hang out.

The Citicorp Center had an indoor atrium which was really popular in the 80’s. There were 5 or 6 restaurants in that atrium, including a bakery that made really good cream puffs and a Scandinavian sandwich shop that made the best turkey sandwich that I’d ever had. Good sourdough bread and freshly made cole slaw. It was $12 then and worth every penny.

My classes finished about 3 pm. I would pick up a Village Voice to see what was happening that night and to read the personals. I remember the first time I picked it up, there was an advertisement for a TV bar. I’m thinking, what bar doesn’t have a TV? What makes this one so special? ….little did I know.

In the middle of the atrium were wire tables and chairs, just like what you would see on someone’s lawn. There were white and very ornate. Some of the tables sat 4 and some 8. Most were occupied, by all types of people, young and old, rich and some homeless. It was a beautiful indoor space.

Every Friday, when I would get there, I noticed there were always 3 large tables put together, seated with mostly older white men. They made it their business to never let anyone but themselves sit at these tables. Most of the time, I didn’t care. I would just sit somewhere else. But, this particular Friday, I had gotten there a little early, because I wanted to get a cream puff. So, with the cream puff in one hand, and the Village Voice in another, I began to look for a seat. I’ll never know why, but that particular day, eveyr seat and every table was packed. I caught glimpse of a vacant seat and walked towards it. It was at the table full of older white men. When they saw me coming, one immediately put a Macy’s shopping bag in the seat. I walked over and asked was the seat taken. The man who put the bag in the seat said, “oh my brother is sitting there” I replied, “ unless he’s in the bag, you need to move it so I can sit down”. After a lot of hemming and hawing and me threatening to get security, they let me sit down.

As soon as I did, they all turned their back to me. They were speaking to one another, and passing about a white paper bag. There was a book or something in the bag they passed around, but what did I care?  I started to eat my cream puff and read my paper. After about 15 minutes, but friend came downstairs and off we went to begin our weekend.

Monday morning, I’m getting ready for school. My mom was retired, and my daughter Jade was a toddler. My Mom watched Jade while I went to class. Every morning, my Mom was up and dressed by 6am. She watched the local news and then at 7am, she would watch the Today show. Every day, like clockwork.

Bryant Gumbel was still the lead anchor and the talked about an expose they’d been working on for weeks. It was about NAMBLA, or the North American Man Boy Love Association. This was a group of adult men that believed that young boys could make conscious decisions about being with older men when they reached puberty. This was pre internet, so they had to meet face to face. No one would rent to them and they were afraid of being bugged, so they decided to meet in public spaces. Most recently they’d decided to meet at the Citicorp Center, in the atrium. They had also decided to print a calendar.

So, the reporter who had infiltrated them comes on and Bryant Gumbel begins to interview him. They ask him where does the group meet? “  At the Citicorp Center, every week on Friday afternoon”. I remember hearing this and noting that I have been at the Citicorp Center every Friday for the last 4 weeks. He then shows the video. It shows about 16 men sitting around 2 tables, talking to each other. And they are passing around a white bag with what looks like is a magazine in it. Well, that wasn’t a magazine. It was a calendar that one of them had made, by hand. He was on his way to the printer and wanted the others to see it before he did. In it was pictures of young boys, over 16, but very young in appearance. Bryant Gumbel says,’ there appears to be a woman at the table with them, who is that?” the reporter says, “we’re not sure. She was there for a few minutes and then left. We think she may have been friends with them, or some kind of ruse, although we just aren’t sure at this point. “ I stood there with my mouth open, looking at the back of my head, my cross body messenger bag slung behind my back. My mother looked at me speechless, I didn’t know what to say, other than, it was a public place and I was just reading the paper, waiting for my friend to come. All she could do was shake her head and say, “only you bimini, only you…”