I think this blog title is pretty self explanatory. No? I was having a
conversation with my dad (in law), & some of it involved financial plans,
etc. The only & best way I could help him understand my viewpoint, my mentality
about money, about life, etc was to put it in perspective. By this I mean
laying out where I came from, the challenges, etc. Where I was statistically
meant to be @ this very moment.
Our conversation wasn’t as in depth as this blog will be, but I thought I’d
expand on it for myself, my readers, & I’ll probably forward it to him as
well, as a supplement to our talk. We have been getting close, & I
appreciate him reaching out to me as a son. I’m a pretty closed up person
emotionally, but I will try & open up, because I see the sincerity.
How many times have we opened up, poured our heart out, only to have it thrown
on the floor, ripped in half, & spit on like “milton” did in that hilarious episode of the
simpsons. I literally just remembered that one. I am so youtubing that today. Lol.
That one & the episode when bart threw lisa’s huge tomato @ the principal. Noooooooooooo!
Lol. Ok, ok, I digress. How many times have we let in emotionally the wrong person, but
here is one that actually deserves to get in, so I will work on not being so guarded.
Life has made me this way, I apologize. I see your sincerity, & I am most
grateful. Thank you. I only hope to be able to return the love, & to fully
deserve this honor.
So I ask, what’s the average life of someone that comes from the hood, the
ghetto, the “bad neighborhood”? I don’t know the answer to that, you tell me
though. How many live to a ripe old age? How many do so without getting
shot? Stabbed? Jailed? Or dead? You get my drift.
My upbringing was not very different than that of my peers growing up. We
all grew up in the same area, we all played in the same abandoned car lots,
the same rooftops, the same little parks, & we all stood in front of the
same buildings. We all smoked weed together, we all got drunk together, we
all stole potato chips together.
Not all of them had this advantage against the street, but @ least half of
us had @ least 1 parent actively watching, caring & loving us. Yet even some
of those parentally nurtured kids still ended up taking the bad path.
One comes to mind. A friend who’s mom was so sweet, so caring. When he was
at home he was a perfect gentleman, “Yes Mam”, etc. It was amazing to see
him interact with his loving mom. But in the street this was a totally
different person. I never forget this guy and his 2 personalities.
The others, the ones that did not have the caring parents, most failed, but
some came out of it. 1 friend in particular impresses me so damn much. I’ll
respect his privacy, but if he’s reading this he knows who it is. This guy
overcame even greater odds than most of us, & today he is doing pretty damn
good. I will always love & admire him and his accomplishments.
Growing up I remember 2 especially fun times that come to mind where the
parental figure played a role in bringing me home. Both of these fun times
were cut short by my mom, either by her coming to get me outside, or by
sending someone to come fetch me. This says a lot though, that action from
mom probably made a huge difference in me coming up.
So first was me & a bunch of my buddies playing wrestlemania in a pickup
truck in front of 108 E. Clarke Place. The side of the truck serves as our
ropes, whilst the inside was the ring. Now just picture a bunch of early
teens in there goofing off & fake wrestling. Uberfun! The owner either
didn’t know, or he didn’t care much, cause noone complained & chased us off
the truck.
Second was during the winter, walton avenue, 5 on 5 all out snowball fight.
Probably the only real time I just let loose with some friends growing up in
a snowball war. Again, mama sent for me to come home, this time rather
early.
I don’t remember who was in the war, only a guy (bully) named Peter, & this
other dude named Benji. So we were having fun, but didn’t get to really bond
or get too close. Maybe mom knew something I didn’t? If I’m not mistaken, Benji would later
become affiliated with either the Latin kings or Nietas (Families or Gangs).
I can’t remember, except he was wearing beads & colors. I wonder if mom
foresaw that?
But her worrying about me, and constant vigilance kept me on the right path.
Even when mom wasn’t watching I always felt her presence and wanted to do
the right thing, or at least not anything to bad that would hurt her or get
me in too much trouble.
I can share so many stories of how close I personally came to joining a
gang, or how close I was to catching someone else’s bullet, or seeing
someone shot to death, getting chased by gang members, getting beat up for
looking white, and on and on I can go. But you get the point.
Look at me now though. I am by no means rich, nor am I even well off. But
I’m doing alright. I have had a high level technical job for 13 years @ a
huge financial firm, I earn a decent salary, I get a decent bonus every
year, I served my country, I have a nice roof over my head (all be it a
rental for now), & I get to travel & spoil myself & my loved ones from to
time. I’ve seen parts of the world some only dream of, I’ve done things that
I wasn’t supposed to have done. I made it out of there.
I have a healthy son, my parents & siblings are alive & well. I have a
decent social life, & I am engaged to a wonderful woman. I was able to
surprise her with a beautiful ring, in a beautiful way, and I have the rest
of my life to spend it with her and give her and my loved ones the best that
I can.
So all in all, I’d say I’m making it ok. Won’t you say?
Home 
