PROOF

If there is no struggle, there is no progress
—Frederick Douglass

During my last military enlistment, there was a fellow soldier who contended that if anyone really wanted to fight--play fight, that is, the only thing in the way was, "time, space and opportunity." Idle military minds play fight often (among other things) to alleviate some of the mindless monotony. So Gomez said this little ditty several times during the course of the work day. His words crossed my mind last summer as I visited with several people I grew up with. Just so happened to be home during a Father's Day barbecue. What started out as a local hero wanting to "do a little something for the Dads and their kids" has turned into a major neighborhood event. I ran into folks I had not seen in almost 18 years.

I thought about all of the good times we shared. There were many. There were bad times as well, some really bad in fact, but I could not exactly recall them. I guess time does, in fact, heal all wounds.

All I can remember now is that we were a group of semi-happy, inner city kids, who for a dozen and a half years, experienced love and heartbreak, wore high-top fade haircuts, sported the Salt ‘N Pepa hair cut, couldn’t wait to get the new Pumas, saw the end of the Afro-era, ushered in the tacky but oh-so popular Jheri Curl (ashamedly, yours truly had one for 9 years), teased each other about wearing skips or something we thought was “un-cool.” In spring, summer and fall, we raced up and down the block on our bicycles, often sliding to a screeching halt with daredevil flair and bragging over who had the grossest scars.

We played basketball, baseball or handball in the park across the street while half the block rooted us on. When it was super-dooper hot, we ran through the water spraying from the johnny pump—dousing each other until we were soaking wet. And as soon as the familiar tune of the ice cream truck wafted through the air, we literally froze with recognition (Eddie Murphy does not exaggerate in describing how he remembers the way children reacted whenever “Mr. Softee” would arrive). Seconds later, we’d bum rush the truck to purchase a snow cone, a strawberry shortcake, bomb pop or a vanilla cone with sprinkles.



Games like Tag, “Mother May I?,” or the ever-so-dizzying, Red Light, Green Light, One, Two, Three, entertained us on summer nights. We stayed outside “‘til the street lights came on,” shoveled snow, and learned to ride mass transit by junior high school. We would soon venture to Harlem (“Uptown”), Union Square, The Bronx (a.k.a. The Boogie Down) or Long Island (Strong Island), bought junk food from the corner store or danced our asses off at the annual summer block party. We played silly, dangerous pranks on each other but declared war when kids from other neighborhoods picked on us.

Eventually, we grew apart; some moved away and quite a few, like myself, left NYC altogether. We graduated high school, earned GEDs, and went onto college, became nurses, started businesses, joined the ranks of peace officers, turned into bankers, enlisted in the military and a few are even educating the next generation. An even bigger shock is that a lot of us had the gall to become parents—and doing a good job at it, too.

Today, we are not perfect; a couple of us are ill, some unemployed, a few more are incarcerated or overall just struggling with life itself. Four of my friends have even been shot, two fatally. Still, most of us have done well. As a matter of fact, one of my old boyfriends has retired from the military and contracts with the government now. Another childhood friend has a great career with the local power company, has married and lives in the house he grew up in.

Donna, a girl I grew up with shared with me the accomplishments of her daughter, who happens to be the same age as my daughter. Back in the day, Donna could pedal faster on her Big Wheel than I could on my bike (blasted training wheels!). Still, it never crossed my mind that one day she and I would share in the joy and anxious anticipation regarding our children graduating from high school and going off to college.

Never, ever thought in my wildest dreams, any of us would be where we are now. But we are...here. And it's a beautiful thing.

Lately, I often wonder how things would have worked out if I had stayed home. We are talking New York City, where all you need is guts, determination and to be in the right place at the right time. Leaving the “…the city that never sleeps,” to find “adventure” elsewhere seems a little odd. Yet the time away has been good for me. I learned to spread my wings and make unusual, difficult choices. While talking with my friends, I learned that they too, faced similar situations.

Through the childhood fights, bonding, growing pains, etc., we still greet each other with hugs filled with love and respect. Regardless as to whether we fought all the time growing up, got along, or whatever, we can still come together and fellowship. No matter what rift or embarrassment, it's still "all good." We have grown, matured, and developed. This wasn't overly hard to do, I guess...all we needed was--time, space and opportunity.





Axe.

Currently Listening To: Just Us by Two Tons of Fun and Love Is The Message by MFSB