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...