Smith Dying Of A Light

1. Auflage 2022
ISBN: 978-0-9765876-4-4
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 396 Seiten

In Dying of a Light, DF Smith skillfully recreates the picturesque waterfront university campus in historic Virginia, the raw sounds, smells & mind state of the Jersey City street ecosystem. He gives an interesting insight into the sociocultural theoretical perspective of urban youth. The title character, Diamond Palladium narrates a perilous journey which is familiar to some, known to a few, but told by none. The story begins in the early seventies when Palladium is born into chaos and rescued by a strong Black woman. He embarks upon an odyssey which is all too natural in regards to his genetic coding, but contrary to his moral home teachings. This serious life threatening, life loosing narrative gives a unique view into the actuality of events that take place subsequent to young adults leaving their parents nest. In a novel that incorporates painstaking experiences with unforgettable style & detail, Smith presents an all to rarely witnessed part of young black culture with a provocative portrayal of the silent bonds between men & women of color. Most of all he gives us the saga of real flesh & blood individuals making difficult decisions in the face of unimaginable danger, giving a clearer, deeper understanding to the psychodynamics of the urban mind.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Smith, David F.

Leseproben

Chapter Three

Sana and Monique were a large part of my positive growth process, including mental development. When I entered kinder garden and then the first grade, at PS number 41 school, I realized how much ahead of the other students, I actually was. Not by intellectual superiority, or simply understanding more, but from the interaction I received at home.

I was also rudely awakened to the treatment of light skinned individuals in the ghetto, by our darker brothers and sisters. They viewed the complexion, as a sign of weakness and believed we were submissive, belonging neither to the black, or white race. They really had it twisted. I was forced to fight, almost everyday, sometimes more than once a day, but that’s just a day in the life, or basically how it was. The hood has it’s own set of rules, always has, always will. My cousins that once resided down stairs from us, now lived in a new housing community, called Arlington Gardens. Often I would be dropped off there, after school, until my mother got off of work. My sister would go to my grandmother’s, she was very interested in that side of the family, in addition to not playing well with others for extended periods of time. It’s safer not to give a time bomb the opportunity to explode.

My aunt ran a real disciplined camp, but we always managed to have fun, with the park across the street and everything. Times that I wasn’t there, my baby sitters were in Kurry Woods project. They taught me a lot also, plus I enjoyed myself there, not just because I liked the people watching me, but my father, step moms, step brother and sisters lived a few buildings down. We always had a good time and they loved when I came over back then.

Pops was still a regular part of my life, picking me up from school and taking me to his number store, which fronted as a record shop, with no inventory. There was just empty shelves, sheets of paper and stacks of money in the back, things of that nature.

Most of my uncles were part of the underworld, doing their thing from extortion, to million dollar credit card scams, always into something, but shared nothing at all, at least not with me. At times, I contemplated how it would be if I never meet any of them, including my father, due to the fact that an unconscious vision of my destiny developed, by watching and listening to them; which eventually my body started to follow. Moms tried to keep me, as far away from that element as possible, hoping that I didn’t develop a level of despondency, which I can definitely now see why.

We went to church every Sunday, not just for service, for Sunday school, plus the meetings after service, because Moms was on every committee known to God and his angels. On Easter, we were forced to participate in the plays, plus give speeches, but since the devil never stops working, he made us sneak handfuls of communion wafers and eat them during the usher’s money count.

When Moms was completely finished at the church, she’d take us to a disco and let us party in our new clothes. They had dance contests, where I would do my Saturday Night Fever, John Travolta hard strut rendition, with my hand pointed high and hips shaking side to side, while sliding on my hard bottoms. I really thought I was jammin hard, but my sister and Namone would always win.

We even attended church camp during part of the summers, in the mountains of New Jersey, which believe it or not, was a lot of fun, enough to make us always want to return the next year. That summer Moms took us to Disney World in Orlando Florida and we celebrated my birthday party on a boat inside. I was infatuated with the small world ride, the little mechanical robot people singing “Its a Small World” and also space mountain, the dark roller coaster, where you couldn’t see the tracks, which tapped right into my sense of danger. How easy I was to please. It was an adventure to remember, all my cousins were there, as we did it up, molding my mind for how I figured life was suppose to be. Bright and sweet, how foolish was I.

We also visited Sea World, to see Shamu the killer whale, who I smacked across the face, then ran for cover, as my mother just shook her head, talkin about that boy crazy. We drove the entire journey national lampoon style, since Moms just copped a new Buick, which was about a block long. A few months later we moved into a two family house on Madison Avenue. My two oldest sisters were off to college, Sana at Morgan State University in Baltimore and Monique at Smith College in Massachusetts. I transferred to PS. Number 12 School. Most of my cousins and friends went there, so when I arrived, they shoulder carried me, like I just saved the planet, or was a Roman emperor, or something of that sort. We were always overly animated that way and they were happy I was there. Hip Hop Culture had just exploded on the streets, so it was an exciting, innovative new time. Break Dancing, rhyming, a new way to dress, with new styles, rocking name plates, Kangols, mock necks and name belts. Cats even carried around card board boxes and linoleum to dance on. Things really got ridiculous after Beat Street came out. Everybody thought they was performing at the Roxy.

All my affiliates were three or four years older than myself, so I learned quick and ahead of my time. During lunch we would meet in the Gardens, alternating houses to cook batches, our slang for sliced potatoes. This was a ritual for us, exclusively for crew members only. One day full throttle as usual, rushing to get to Jerry Dehere’s house, running top speed, hundred yard dashing it, not trying to miss my batch. I turned the corner at Communipaw and Arlington, only to smash head first into a metal pole with a sign on it. I knocked myself unconscious and woke up regurgitating in the Medical Center, with a concussion. Larock had picked me up off the ground, then carried me to the house, before I was taken to the hospital, without my knowledge. I was always moving too fast, but never realized it. I simply acclimated to that speed making it normal. The doctor kept me overnight for observation and testing, so my mother bought me McDonalds, plus stayed until I fell asleep, telling me I have to slow down. Across the street behind the Gardens was Garfield basketball court. The blacktop of dreams, where I learned the greatest game ever invented, next to chess. The only time and place that I ever truly felt free, was on the basketball court during games. I guess heaven really is a playground, as they say. At night the lights came on and it was prime time, with spectators and all. We considered this a second home to us, even shoveling snow in the winter to play. More than a few NBA players were produced from this humble beginning. I liked my new residence on Madison Avenue. Its a real nice block with all brownstones and a park behind the backyards, that could be entered through the front. There was a candy cane, spiral metal slide, with a hole in the end; that could literally cut you in half, if no forced stop was made, before arriving at the bottom.

There was another area, enclosed by a four foot brick wall, that was twelve inches wide. This section contained an eight foot slide, with wooden deck, plus pipe ladder, a maze of wooden beams and four, two foot concrete stools. There was a six foot gap in the wall, as the labyrinth entrance. Instead of playing nicely like normal children, we created our own cutting edge game. A game called air tag, where we chased each other through jumps, slides and foot placings, with only inches to spare, at full speed, without touching the ground. Whoever’s it, could be right on your back, just about to make a tag, until you jumped on top of the wooden maze, back down to the wall, then across the six foot gap jump, running ten feet, to leap over to the concrete stools, then vertically obtuse to the pipe ladder of the slide. This game was extremely dangerous, causing serious injury at times, with the potential to be fatal. Never the less, we soon mastered this challenge, as any other game we participated in, except that it was limited to the elite, along with roof jumping. At night, the park was off limits to the youngsters and the older crowd would chill there, drinking and smoking weed, which came in manilla church envelopes at the time. You sure got a lot for your money back then. All the fellas wore dew rags, or stocking caps to wave up and everybody had a Muslim name even if they weren’t Islamic. When we were allowed to stay outside, after dark, cause usually it was time to go in, when the street lights came on, we would just imagine the rectangular light poles, were basketball rims and ran full court games pole to pole. We took this, just as serious, as playing at the real court and even got into fights sometime. We ran two on two, or three on three, no more than that, being on the side walk. The street was out of bounds and above a certain spot against the pole, was good for a point, with games going to eleven. Dudes had next and everything, just like we were on Garfield. My aunt Karen and her daughter lived above us, but soon jetted to the suburbs and my cousins from Arlington Gardens moved in. When we were home alone, my sister would twist her neck to the side, while sitting on the bed and bounce back and forth, up and down, against the mattress, talking about “do you know what she did” like the exorcist, plus in the same voice, as Linda Blair; so I’d run out the house and not come back in, until someone else came home to tame her psychotic behind. She made me sick, knowing that the only thing I feared was the supernatural demons, which were abstruse to me at the time. Part of the reason that I loved God so much, was...