In years passed (3)....

I mentioned that we were somewhat of a minority at the elementary school the kids started at.  Basketball was the sport of choice there.  Here it's football and they start teaching football as a religion before kindergarten.  There it's basketball.  Mind you, this was in the day of Michael Jordan and the greatness of the Chicago Bulls.  We still have an original Michael Jordan jersey put up in mint condition somewhere.  I used to let H wear it to school until I was in the mall one day and saw the exact same jersey in no better condition with a price tag on it for $386.  I about DIED when I realized I was sending my 12 year old out with a $400 shirt on.  It went under glass after that.  H played basketball for the school.  He was the only little white boy on the team.  But that kid had hops.  It wasn't unusual for me to have 20 little boys in my yard shooting hoops every decent afternoon.  

One day when I was picking H up from school, I was a little boy come shooting out the door followed by a little blonde haired kid.  As there were only 4 little blonde haired kids in the school at this time and I was watching for mine, it caught my attention.  The little blonde haired kid chased the other little boy across the playground, knocked him to the ground and proceeded to punch him several times.  Then he stood up and started walking away.  It was far enough away that I still couldn't tell which of the 4 little blonde boys was going to be in BIG trouble with their parents that evening.  (SD was related to the 2 other families that had little blonde boys)  The whole time, I'm thinking "please don't let that be H.  Please don't let that be my kid acting like that".  Yep, you guessed it.  It was.  So, when he got into the car, I questioned what in the hell did he think he was doing?  His response:

"He messed with my homie".  The kid was like 8 at the time.  UGH!  So, thereafter followed a loooonnnngggg discussion about proper behavior.  Not that I would have ever told him to stand there and TAKE a beating.  But that he better never, on gods green earth, be the one to ever throw the first punch again.  Otherwise, the consequences would be quick and severe.  I knew in the neighborhood that we were in that they could afford to be afraid.  For all the friends they had, there were always going to be those kids that wanted to fight.  Usually older kids that they weren't friends with.  H's friends saved him from getting in many a fight just by speaking up for him.   There was a group of them that would walk home occasionally.  But the one time his group wasn't available, he ended up getting jumped by 6 teenagers.  They surrounded him and were going to do him some real harm but he was quick.  He picked up a brick, hit one kid and kicked another to clear a path and then ran.  Luckily for him, he was quick.  95% of the time, I drove them.  But, B spent a LOT of time in the hospital as an infant/toddler and when I was at the hospital with him- SD was too lazy to get up and run to get them.  He walked home from school as a kid- they could too.  I don't remember where Ice Cube was that particular day.  He must have been home sick.  At that point, any time one of the other kids brought something home- B ended up in the hospital.  Oxygen tents and I. V.'s were the story of his life back then.  He was a scrawny little thing.  

Ms Dani couldn't believe that the young man she's been with for 4 years is the same person who as a little boy said "he messed with my homie".  He had some great baseball coaches over the years and they helped mold him into the young man he has become.  Working a good job, living in a nice apartment, becoming a decent young man.  Not in prison like several of his best buddies from back in those days.  Thank God, I was able to get him out of there before it was too late.  Not only for him- but for all of them.