My friend Reggie is someone from whom I had thought getting a story would be easy. He's a really likeable, fun, easy-going guy who always has something to say. When I put him on the spot, though, Reggie seemed to really struggle to come up with a good story to share.
"What haven’t I done?" he asked, laughing.
"I just don’t… cause… I mean… nothin that I want you blogging!" he said as he stuffed down a sandwich.
"You didn’t ever do anything good?" I pressed.
"No!" he half-laughed. "That really would take some thought!"
One of his sons, around 7 or 8, is named Dylan. Awhile ago, Reggie was telling me about Dylan. For awhile, Reggie had been calling him "Juice" as a nickname. On the drive to elementary school one day, Dylan asserted to Reggie, "Dad, I want to be called 'Rick Juice,' not just 'Juice.'"
SO CUTE!! Anyway, we still refer to him as Juice. So, from time to time, Reggie tells me stories about what Juice has been up to. When I was trying to interview Reggie, I prompted him, "You could tell me a story about Juice. He does good stuff, huh?"
"That’s my son. Of course he doesn’t." Such irony. He grinned.
"I thought you would be the easiest person to ask," I said, "because you have so many things that you talk about all the time!"
"Yeah, but it’s never any GOOD stuff!"
Reggie cocked his head to the side as one idea hit him. "Well... I always wanted to be an architect."
"Yeah?" I asked, trying to encourage him.
"But, um, my aspirations to be an architect were cut short when I started bein' a father. That shit went straight out the window."
Yep, he's sired quite a fold of youngins. Busy fella.
"And, you know, the same old chestnut fell in with the wrong crowd, started doin' dumb shit. Went to jail a few times. Probably actually more than a few times."
Has Reggie made some mistakes? Yes. Are there NO good things about Reggie? Of course not! I don't know the Reggie who WAS; I know my friend Reggie TODAY. Reggie is kind. He has a great sense of humor. He can be trusted. He has a lot of life ahead of him; he's only about 35 or so. It made me sad that my friend thought he had nothing good about his life to share.
This is me sitting by Reggie in the Superdome when a group of us from work went to see the Saints play the Raiders - 2013
I am a strong believer that there is lots of good in EVERYONE. As much good as anyone wants to pull up out of themselves, is there for the taking! But, I will step off my soap box for now.
Let the stories begin!
***************************************************Reggie, the youngest of 8 children, finally began sharing with a story about his dad.
"My dad wasn’t, like, MEAN… he was just like… big disciplinarian… I can remember when… they had… well it was 8 of us that lived with my mom and dad. He had bought my brothers and sisters some bikes for Christmas. Told ‘em, 'Don’t ride 'em in the street.' So he come home from work, everybody ridin’ bikes down the middle of the street."
"Nothing good can come of this," I thought silently. Aloud, I muttered, "Uh-oh."
Reggie went on: "So he told ‘em to get off the bikes, take ‘em in the backyard… took ‘em in the backyard, he took an AX… and," he said matter-of-factly, "cut them all up."
"Nooooo!" I lamented.
Reggie said, "I swear."
"Brand-new bikes?"
"Brand-new bikes. I mean, he bought ‘em in December for Christmas, this had to be February. So yeah, everybody got their bikes sma… to, like, totally demolished. By my outraged dad."
That would teach ME a quick lesson about listening to my father! Man, that is so extreme!
Reggie went on to tell me more about when he was a kid.
"And, yes, he used to call me outside, call me from outside from playin’ with my friends, to tell me to go get him some Kool Aid.
"Yes, Kool Aid. And he’ll put his fingers on the glass to show me just how much he wanted, and he’d make me put my fingers in the same spot so I always had to walk to the kitchen with my fingers holding against the glass cause he didn’t want any more than that. If, he, if I poured him any more than that, he’d make me pour it out."
I contributed a quick, "Really."
"He really would. He, he… I think he got it from his dad who was… he left home when he was 18 years old and didn’t go home for 30 years."
Reggie continued describing his dad: "He was from Portsmouth, VA. He left home when he was 18, and he didn’t go back to Portsmouth, VA for 30 years, until one of his sisters died, and he went back. But, his dad used to make him tie his shoes. Like, 'You tie my shoes; I don’t feel like it.' "Yeah. And I’m thinkin' that’s where he got that from? But wasn’t like abuse because, I mean, I was spoiled rotten.
"I was still an asshole, though," he grinned.
I laughed and shook my head.
He added, "Still did dumb shit. Not until he died, though! I didn’t start doin' dumb shit until he died."
"Yeah," I thought aloud. "You knew better."
"Yeah!" Reggie agreed. "Yeah, he’s one a those kinda parents, you know, like..."
"Like, 'Don’t let me catch you,'" I filled in.
"Yes. 'I’m gonna beat you. I don’t care about the cops comin’ to pick me up cause I’m still gonna beat you even more.' It’s true!"
I wondered to myself what kind of trouble Reggie would get in if his dad heard him telling all his business like this. Heh...
He continued, "One time the cops came to the house for my brother. This was, like, on a weekend. So he always go out and get drunk on Friday night, so,"
"Who – your dad or your brother?" I asked.
"My dad. My brother, too, by that time! But, just this instance, the cops came for my brother. They’re beatin’ on the door; you know that police knock – BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!! Everybody know the police knock. So, he come to the door, in his underwear, as usual, my height, my size, so you know he ain’t scarin’ nobody."
We both laughed at that point. Reggie's taller than me, but shorter than a lot of guys... and he's a very LEAN fella. (Please note, I did not say "skinny.") :-)
Reggie went on with the story: "He say, 'Stop beatin’ on my mother f***in door!' The cops went BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM! They just got louder with it. So he swung the door open and punched the first person he sees in the face – BAM!! JUST so happened it was, like, a cop that was, like, 6’3”, 6’4”…"
Oh no.
"Yeah, and they took my dad to jail."
Well, yeah...
"I mean, f*** that!" Reggie said on his dad's behalf. "Don’t beat on his f***in door; he told ya! He warned you before he opened it; he ain’t care who it was on the other side of it. 'Stop beatin’ on my F***IN door!' So, instead of takin' my brother to jail, who they actually came to get, they took my dad."
"So they forgot about getting your brother and just took your dad," I summarized.
"'We ain’t worried about him'," he said, pretending what the furious policemen must have been thinking.
We both laughed.
"We ain’t worried about him," he repeated.
Reggie taking an alcohol-induced nap in the freezing-cold Superdome... almost on top of my friend Angela, who was less than amused... LOL
That's my Reggie. What I learn from him is, you take what life gives you and you make the best of it. You don't quit, give up, throw yourself on the ground and cry... you just keep going.
So I guess my message from this story to all you readers is, "Just keep going!"
KEEP GOING! :-)
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