Friday, June 30, 2006
CULTURES CLASH
Ringwormed Ghetto Tabby
Blue Black Eddie was big and menacing looking and mainstream culturally deprived much the same as I was deprived of his dirt road roots and windowless house and pistol packing mother.
Eddie was loyal with the heart and emotions of a child. He loved me and freely used to smile and say, ”I love Fredman” and he meant it. I don’t think he understood white fright discrimination based of hues of the skin. I’m not sure I get it either!
It was 1977 and Eddie was causing a disturbance in the high school office before homeroom. Someone suggested they get Fredman to calm his special student and friend before calling the cops.
I found Eddie distraught, crying and answering all suggestions that he get to homeroom with the retort “You get to homeroom mother fucker!”
“What’s wrong Ed? Let me help you out of this.”
“Mother fucking sneaks! How am I supposed to run when I ain’t got no mother fucking sneaks? Can’t run track without no fucking sneaks. The bitch took my money I had hidden in the wall. Said if I didn’t stop crying about it she’d shoot my sorry black ass.”
“Who said that Eddie?”
My mother, got drunk, took my money and went off to play cards. No I can’t run because I ain’t got no sneaks.”
I took Eddie to an equipment closet where there was a duffle bag of used track spikes. Three pair fit his feet and I gave them all to him. “Tell you bitch mother not to wear these to the poker table, ”I said. We both laughed because although Eddie had been deprived and neglected he wasn’t stupid.
A May morning office incident and once again I was called to the office. The school nurse has spotted circular bumps on Eddie’s blue black neck, called him into the office and told him to call home---the pistol packing stealing alcoholic violent mother—because he had to go home until the bumps were gone.
“They say I got the wig-worm Fredman. I ain’t got no mother fucking wig-worm! Bitch nurse telling me I got the wig-worm. I ain’t got no mother fucking wig worm Fredman.” Then a pause for reflection—“Hey Fredman? What a wig worm?”
Ringworm in the back country of Sussex County is wig worm and people be getting that shI a lot and it’s contagious and there’s nothing more ludicrous than a rich blond white girl in monogrammed sweater with ringworm on her whole milk vitamin D neck.
The second week of June and many of them had never been on the boardwalk at high noon on a summer’s day. I lost sight of Eddie but eyeballed him down on the beach standing next to a blanket of young oiled up girls some face up and others face down. Eddie just stared down in appreciation and amazement.
I grabbed him and brought him back up on the boardwalk and told him standing in close proximity and staring at cute girls was fun but socially unacceptable. He learned that glancing from a moderate distance was the safest way to fly.
Twenty two years later a weasel of a high school principal was being coy and cute talking to a father about the suspension of his son for various behavior infractions. The father was about 6’3” and 260 pounds of blue black muscle. “Your job is to help these kids,” he said. “I haven’t heard a word about that. It’s like you don’t care.”
I walked into the office and the big man turned around to meet my eyes. He walked over and put his arms around me, kissed me on the cheek and said, ”I love you Fredman. They need more people like you that care about kids.”
People in the office were silent. Eddie had given me the proudest moment of my career for both of us.
Peace Freddoggy-dogg
Blue Black Eddie was big and menacing looking and mainstream culturally deprived much the same as I was deprived of his dirt road roots and windowless house and pistol packing mother.
Eddie was loyal with the heart and emotions of a child. He loved me and freely used to smile and say, ”I love Fredman” and he meant it. I don’t think he understood white fright discrimination based of hues of the skin. I’m not sure I get it either!
It was 1977 and Eddie was causing a disturbance in the high school office before homeroom. Someone suggested they get Fredman to calm his special student and friend before calling the cops.
I found Eddie distraught, crying and answering all suggestions that he get to homeroom with the retort “You get to homeroom mother fucker!”
“What’s wrong Ed? Let me help you out of this.”
“Mother fucking sneaks! How am I supposed to run when I ain’t got no mother fucking sneaks? Can’t run track without no fucking sneaks. The bitch took my money I had hidden in the wall. Said if I didn’t stop crying about it she’d shoot my sorry black ass.”
“Who said that Eddie?”
My mother, got drunk, took my money and went off to play cards. No I can’t run because I ain’t got no sneaks.”
I took Eddie to an equipment closet where there was a duffle bag of used track spikes. Three pair fit his feet and I gave them all to him. “Tell you bitch mother not to wear these to the poker table, ”I said. We both laughed because although Eddie had been deprived and neglected he wasn’t stupid.
A May morning office incident and once again I was called to the office. The school nurse has spotted circular bumps on Eddie’s blue black neck, called him into the office and told him to call home---the pistol packing stealing alcoholic violent mother—because he had to go home until the bumps were gone.
“They say I got the wig-worm Fredman. I ain’t got no mother fucking wig-worm! Bitch nurse telling me I got the wig-worm. I ain’t got no mother fucking wig worm Fredman.” Then a pause for reflection—“Hey Fredman? What a wig worm?”
Ringworm in the back country of Sussex County is wig worm and people be getting that shI a lot and it’s contagious and there’s nothing more ludicrous than a rich blond white girl in monogrammed sweater with ringworm on her whole milk vitamin D neck.
The second week of June and many of them had never been on the boardwalk at high noon on a summer’s day. I lost sight of Eddie but eyeballed him down on the beach standing next to a blanket of young oiled up girls some face up and others face down. Eddie just stared down in appreciation and amazement.
I grabbed him and brought him back up on the boardwalk and told him standing in close proximity and staring at cute girls was fun but socially unacceptable. He learned that glancing from a moderate distance was the safest way to fly.
Twenty two years later a weasel of a high school principal was being coy and cute talking to a father about the suspension of his son for various behavior infractions. The father was about 6’3” and 260 pounds of blue black muscle. “Your job is to help these kids,” he said. “I haven’t heard a word about that. It’s like you don’t care.”
I walked into the office and the big man turned around to meet my eyes. He walked over and put his arms around me, kissed me on the cheek and said, ”I love you Fredman. They need more people like you that care about kids.”
People in the office were silent. Eddie had given me the proudest moment of my career for both of us.
Peace Freddoggy-dogg
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What is wrong with that cat? Poor thing he/she is in bad shape. Is that ringworm??? Looks like some type of mange. I certainly hope cat recovered.
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