Product Of My Environment Autobiography Written By REST100 Part. 3

Chapter 5

As a child I had been a bit of a fire bug. I managed to keep it under wraps for a while. Starting with matches and lighters leading to accelerates. I remember standing in my backyard and I started a fire that ignited the entire back half of the yard. I was paralyzed with amazement that was abruptly interrupted by the screaming of my mother. She flew out the house with pots of water and ordered me to go inside and wait for her. After dousing the fire my mother came back into the house and proceeded to beat the life out of me. She started with a belt and ended with a comb. I felt like Martin Lawrence after he fought that boxer in his Television series. My mother loved us so much it hurt literally. After any spanking from my mother followed crying and apologies. She didn’t want to see her boys become statistics. It was so bad that she started to become concerned about my weight. She feared I would drop dead playing outside from being overweight. We barely had food with food stamps once a month and trips to the pantry when we could get a ride. I guess that’s what mothers do they worry. She became overly worried when she knew at some point we would witness her taking medication. She sat me down and explained to me that she had a disease. A disease that would eventually take her away from us. HIV and at 9 years old death is not even a thought. This was a conversation that couldn’t be avoided regardless of my age. Reluctantly giving me information about her condition I completely understood. Most of my life at that point began to make sense. Seeing my mother with needles and medicine cabinets packed with medication. Taking trips to random clinics every 3 months. Safety was key she always stored her syringes in an empty bleach container. We always had to be careful but this was our version of normal and it became clear this was real. Weeping she reviewed our history and repeatedly apologizing for her mistakes. Begging for our forgiveness. I don’t think we understood the magnitude of her request but as a man I can say that I forgive you Mommy. She told us about dreams of witnessing our graduation and walking us down the aisle for our wives. Deep down she knew these were events she would never be able to attend, but we were strong. Her death sentence never held us down although it held her back physically. She became very ill from her medication and was constantly bed ridden. I remember coming home from school and being shocked to see Price standing in my mother’s room. Obviously the state didn’t think he was a threat but I had thought otherwise. Price made an honest effort to straight up and fly right. New job, a family, a house and deep in his studies with Islam. I’m sure he had been aware of my mother’s condition long before I had. So what other reason would a man stick around unless he shared the same sentence. We would soon move from our home in Gordon heights into a much smaller 2-bedroom apartment in Middle Island, NY. Lakeview apartments and at this time, I was in elementary school I had my first crush on a girl name Delilah. Delilah would beat the crap out of me daily because I openly express my feelings about Delilah. One of my first mistakes as a child. My mother told me never to put my hands on a woman. With me being a mommy's boy her word was law. So I developed some very thick skin not to mention she had a cousin this size of a NFL player. His name was Sean. Sean was a really big boy. In elementary this kid nearly touched the roof of the bus and had to walk sideways through the aisle. Compared to Sean I was a twig so became Delilah’s punching bag. Slowly but surely the downward spiral started again. Shortly after moving into Lake-view apartments we were moving right back out. This time to the inner city of New York. I guess you can say life took its toll on the dynamic duo. With a death sentence no job no money no resources you go back to what you know.
Having old trades come with bad habits and selling dope had no exception. My mother slipping back into her dark hole after her years of fighting she did the only thing she knew would save us. With no family to help and everyone aware of her condition she did the only thing she possibly could. She called socials services and had us removed from the home. Pleading with the social worker not to separate us we landed with our first family in Harlem. They were Hispanic and we lived in a heavily populated community. The apartment complex was shaped like a square with a hollow center. The elevator reeked of urine as we traveled to the top floor. We arrived in our new home and settled in a room on the second floor with another adopted child. Soon after we arrived I asked if I was allowed outside. The lady of the house said I was allowed but it was raining. I knew it was raining and I wanted to feel the rain on my skin. So much had transpired that my world was literally spinning. My mother told me when I was little that she would feel pain in her bones when it rained. So after getting permission to go outside I ran over to an open area of
the walkway where we lived. Rain storming down on me I rip off my jacket and start screaming at the sky “Why me”, “What did I do wrong”. Desperately wanting to feel some form of physical pain from nature to respond to my anxiety. I dropped to my knees form exhaustion and cried. That would be the first time in 10 years that everything hit me at once.

Chapter 6
We didn't live with this family very long it only took a small incident to happen for them to know that this wasn't a fit. My baby brother Isaiha had been playing on the top bunk bed in the bedroom and accidentally fell off. His head will split open and he was rushed to the hospital. That's all it took and we were no longer welcome. Once again back in an office waiting for a family to pick us up. That is when someone sent us a savior. His name was Tim Connor. I
was a bit afraid to move in with him because he would be the first male to adopt us. Tim lived in a complex known as Esplanade Gardens. This was on 148th street at the very end of the number three train. Tim was a retired train conductor for the New York City Transit. We had not been the first set of kids he adopted. When we arrived we were given our own room in the room there were pictures of Emmitt Smith, Deon Sanders and Derek Jeter. We had one television a bunk bed and a twin mattress. Being the oldest I of course got my own bed and things seem to be normal. Tim had a sister who lived a few floors above him in the same building. She at the time had been taking care of another family members children. One of the children’s name was Meme aka Demetria. Demetria and I had developed a strong relationship right away. Both experiencing similar backgrounds she made it easy to talk to. Demetria was considered the mother
Goose of our flock. I remember just moving into the community and a group of kids starting trouble with us. This always seem to be the scenario when we moved somewhere new. Being light skinned and good looking was a curse. Demetria on the other hand had the heart of a lion and was as large as an Amazon to back it up. She quickly addresses the situation with us and the community. Letting it be known that if anyone were to lay a finger on her cousins they would
have to answer to her. Ironically it was a female to come to our rescue. I'm not ashamed of it but she definitely filled a role that I had been holding on my own for a very long time. Living with Tim had its ups and downs he was very stern about school work and respect. Tim had a history in the military and a successful career with the Transit Authority. Tim was exactly what we needed to see what a real man looked like. deriving from the south Tim was a clean cut well-spoken Man. Everyone loved and adored him in the neighborhood. During the summer he would open a concession stand where he would sell sausages and hamburgers. This will be the first time my brothers and I would learn how to earn a dollar. Tim provided sausages that were nearly 12 inches long and hamburgers that he called monster burgers that were the size of a NFL players hand. We would only open the concession stand on the weekends. Early Saturday mornings I could remember commuting down to the apartment where Tim held all his equipment for his concession stand. Preparing hamburgers with ground beef eggs and seasoning. Thawing out the sausages and the buns. Cutting open the bags of onions and pickles to prepare for the
customers. This was an experience that I would have never been able to have in the environment I was being raised in. After preparing everything needed to open the stand in the morning
we were allowed to go across the street and play in the playground. One day we decided to sell our toys at the local corner store in front of our building. We had literally earned almost $10 that day. Then I was blindsided. As a child I wanted to be everyone's friend I wanted to be adored and liked by all. Walking through the streets of New York the concrete sparkled from the sun's reflection off the broken glass infused in the concrete. I imagined this to be crowds of cameras taking pictures of me as I walk through the streets of New York. Soon after selling all of our toys and earning the money that we had my brothers and I decided what we wanted to split up the money. Coincidentally near the time we were packing up I was approached by another kid from the neighborhood who seemed very interested in the fact that we were making money.He continued to explain to me that he had a very good hide out for our money and as gullible as I was at that age I thought to myself why not. The great feeling of making money the rewarding feeling of people complimenting you for earning a dollar. I was feeling awesome and here was
another kind person to come and reward me for my hard efforts. If only that were true. At that age, I got to see how cruel the streets could really be. This kid decided that he was going to take the lunch box that we had all our cash in and start jogging down the street. I figured the hideout had to have been close because he was in a hurry. So we jogged and followed him until we were at our point that we were not allowed to cross. Before arriving to this point how I tried to explain to the kid that we were not allowed to cross the street. This must have been the green light he was waiting for because no sooner did I mention that did he begin to take flight. That would be the first time I got robbed in Harlem. This had been a very drastic change from what we had been used to with other foster homes but Tim had experience with raising boys. Tim had a very structured systematic way of doing things. Cleanliness or “washing your ass” as he would like to say it was very important. Respecting your elders had to of been on the top of the list. I could remember making a retarded comment to my brothers that we didn't have to listen to Tim. No
sooner than the comment came out of my mouth did the fear of God come out of Tim's mouth. Needless to say I never went down that route again. My mother still remained in touch. She gave us progress updates of her condition and reminded us to do well in school. Our school was literally located next door to our building my teacher at the time was Miss Stevenson. Miss Stevenson had been briefed about my history and began to show extreme sympathy. This
sympathy I begin to notice was very common among the new people that I met. Apparently what I have gone through wasn’t normal at all. Earned numerous awards in Miss Stephenson's class honor roll student, attendance awards, progress rewards. You name it I could fill a wall with all of my documentation. After school one afternoon in April we were welcomed home with bad information.

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