My mother, over the span of my 20 years, has been a care full and wonderful mother. I remember being 4 or so, while my older siblings were in school, having breakfast in bed every morning, and taking walks. I remember watching Sesame Street and Mr. Roger's every morning. Until, it was decided I'd be enrolled in Pre-K. Now, I don't rightly recall what I was thinking as I walked into that room full of snot-nosed kids singing, "Itsy Bitsy Spider". But I do remember my thoughts as I layed eyes upon my teacher.
She was maybe 5'4'' and weighed 330 pounds. And in her previous life was Adolf Hitler himself. she was very evil, and not nice to me like my mommy. This place of hell had no TV's and only lame little mats for a nap time. Which was never required for the Sursa house hold. We sat around, in a circle, singing little songs that somehow would teach us "life lessons". Maybe there should've been a song for going on a diet. But that wasn't likely to happen. After forcing me to get up every morning, and dragging me to Pre-K, I somehow persuaded my mom to not make me go anymore!
It was around Christmas if I remember correctly, because my mom had managed to find a large enough sweatshirt from wal-mart so she could make a Christmas themed shirt for my teacher. My objective was to go in and give this to her, and my sentence of no breakfast in bed or Sesame Street would be over. I walk in and hand this teacher my shirt, and I remember this very vividly, and I run out as fast as my little white legs would carry me. And I jump in our Suburban and hide in the back seat. "Mom, go for it!", I yell at the top of my lungs as though this was a Bank Robbery, and my mother was the Get-Away driver. Something was wrong. My mother wasn't "flooring" it as I had so anxiously yelled at her to do. We sat there, idoling. I poked my little blonde head up over the seat as I heard voices. My over-weight, huffing and puffing, and breathing like James Gandolfini. She was resting on the unrolled window, trying to speak, but was having some issues. She hadn't run like that since someone took the last Kit-Kat at the grocery store.
They spoke in muzzled voices. Or as I like to call it back then, "Grown up Voices". Eventually, I was told to get out of the car and go back into school and play with my friends and sing some more Christmas songs, I'm sure. I will never forget the feeling of betrayal or the look my mother gave me when I got out of the car. She seemed almost as heartbroken as I was. I struggled through the rest of the year, but I made it through Pre-K, then slowly Kindergarten and first grade. And the next thing I know, I'm in college trying to decide what I want to do with my life.
I wish I could move back in with my mother, have her bring me my sweet rice and toast in the morning, and have her lie in bed with me and watch Dora the Explorer or something. But, just as I made it through all of those times, with my mother behind me, never faltering, I will move on and become someone only my mother and father could dream of. Thanks Mom. Thanks for making me go back in that day. I'm sure if you let me off the hook that day, I'd still be living at home in your basement playing Dungeons and Dragons eating a back of Funyons, washed down with a cold Mountain Dew, still dreaming of the day when I get my first kiss. I love you more than anything, and am indebted to you till the day I die.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
And They Danced
So, here is one of the short stories I wrote. Hope you enjoy!!!
It had been a long and grueling three years. He went through every emotion possible. The Highs and the lows. He set at an empty table underneath a consuming and shady oak tree. He fiddled with his thumbs as thoughts rushed through his head.
He admired the children playing, and the mothers piteously watching their kids. And he thought, maybe he was right, then again, maybe he wasn't. He knew thinking was not the right thing. But, he just couldn't help but think.
He doodled imaginary pictures and words with his finger, and smiled at one of the pictured he drew. He got to his feet, and slowly put his hands in his pockets.
"It's about to rain..."
He continued his slow walk, with his hands dug deep into his pockets. He kicked a rock down the pavement with each careful step he took.
He turned and saw the busy streets, and heard the city sounds. As people walked by with the shopping bags, or briefcases. He noticed that they had not a care in the world. He wished he could feel the same.
"They don't know it's about to rain..."
He thought of this as kind of humorous. Although, he, himself had no protection from the rain.
He continued walking, with his hands still sung in his pockets. He felt tiny sprinkles as he turned down 22nd street. But, he didn't seem to care.
"The rain can't make it any worse."
As he turned down his block, it started to rain. It was a forceful rain. He looked up into the sky, and felt the enormous rain drops hit him in the face. It felt fresh to him...he actually enjoyed it!
It was one of the most alluring things that had happened to him in awhile. His slow and cautious steps now became almost skips, and he actually sang.
He swung from poles and trudged through puddles. Passerby's gave him crazy looks, and nodded heads.
He thought it was funny how such a peculiar thing could cheer him. Naturally, he continued to sing. And his singing turned into humming. He tapped and strolled and stomped through every puddle he passed by.
He was almost home now. He grabbed his keys from his pockets, and merrily swung them around his middle finger.
As he approached his house, he saw a dark figure, waiting patiently on his doorstep. Simultaneously, he stopped his singing and movement. He knew what it was. It was her. He stood in disbelief and breathed hard, and stared.
He slowly saw her head rise. She didn't know he was there, but he knew she was.
He didn't know what to do...should he turn and walk away, and come back later? But, it was raining, and she was soaked to the bone.
He calmly put his hands in his pockets and moved forward. He stopped at the first step, of his three. And the girl slowly looked up. He stood staring. Face to Face with the beautiful girl with mascara runs on her face.
Neither said a word.
Just stared for what seemed like an eternity.
He could see nothing but her, everything around him became and empty tunnel, and the thoughts once again, crept back into his head.
Finally, without thought this time, he spoke.
"hey."
"hey."
"What are you doing here?"
"I don’t know."
"That sure does seem like a terrible reason to be sitting in the rain."
He smiled, but she didn’t smile back. He didn't know what to say. He moved beside her, and set down.
"Some rain, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Gosh, It's beautiful. Never in my life have I seen such a gorgeous thing."
She shrugged and looked away. He looked down and noticed something in her hands. Something solitary, and tightly grasped into her tiny fist.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"In your hand."
"Oh."
She slowly opened her hand and it contained a key inside. "It's our key, I mean, It's your key."
His heart sank. "Why didn't you just slide it under my door?"
"I don't know. It just didn't seem right."
He opened his palm and she slowly put the key inside his hand.
"Well, I guess I'm on my way." said the girl....
She got up and calmly walked down the steps. He watched her walk away. AGAIN.
He stood and attempted to say something. But he didn't know what. She slowly turned and looked up at him. He spoke, and this time, it was almost a whisper.
"Have you ever danced in the rain?"
"No."
She was almost amused at such a silly question. He slowly walked towards her, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
She threw his arms on her neck, and buried her head into his chest. He dropped the keys, and pulled her close. They were both soaked, and neither seemed to care.
He grabbed her chin, and it wasn't like the thousands of times before. He pressed his cold lips against hers. And tightly shut his eyes.
And they danced....
It had been a long and grueling three years. He went through every emotion possible. The Highs and the lows. He set at an empty table underneath a consuming and shady oak tree. He fiddled with his thumbs as thoughts rushed through his head.
He admired the children playing, and the mothers piteously watching their kids. And he thought, maybe he was right, then again, maybe he wasn't. He knew thinking was not the right thing. But, he just couldn't help but think.
He doodled imaginary pictures and words with his finger, and smiled at one of the pictured he drew. He got to his feet, and slowly put his hands in his pockets.
"It's about to rain..."
He continued his slow walk, with his hands dug deep into his pockets. He kicked a rock down the pavement with each careful step he took.
He turned and saw the busy streets, and heard the city sounds. As people walked by with the shopping bags, or briefcases. He noticed that they had not a care in the world. He wished he could feel the same.
"They don't know it's about to rain..."
He thought of this as kind of humorous. Although, he, himself had no protection from the rain.
He continued walking, with his hands still sung in his pockets. He felt tiny sprinkles as he turned down 22nd street. But, he didn't seem to care.
"The rain can't make it any worse."
As he turned down his block, it started to rain. It was a forceful rain. He looked up into the sky, and felt the enormous rain drops hit him in the face. It felt fresh to him...he actually enjoyed it!
It was one of the most alluring things that had happened to him in awhile. His slow and cautious steps now became almost skips, and he actually sang.
He swung from poles and trudged through puddles. Passerby's gave him crazy looks, and nodded heads.
He thought it was funny how such a peculiar thing could cheer him. Naturally, he continued to sing. And his singing turned into humming. He tapped and strolled and stomped through every puddle he passed by.
He was almost home now. He grabbed his keys from his pockets, and merrily swung them around his middle finger.
As he approached his house, he saw a dark figure, waiting patiently on his doorstep. Simultaneously, he stopped his singing and movement. He knew what it was. It was her. He stood in disbelief and breathed hard, and stared.
He slowly saw her head rise. She didn't know he was there, but he knew she was.
He didn't know what to do...should he turn and walk away, and come back later? But, it was raining, and she was soaked to the bone.
He calmly put his hands in his pockets and moved forward. He stopped at the first step, of his three. And the girl slowly looked up. He stood staring. Face to Face with the beautiful girl with mascara runs on her face.
Neither said a word.
Just stared for what seemed like an eternity.
He could see nothing but her, everything around him became and empty tunnel, and the thoughts once again, crept back into his head.
Finally, without thought this time, he spoke.
"hey."
"hey."
"What are you doing here?"
"I don’t know."
"That sure does seem like a terrible reason to be sitting in the rain."
He smiled, but she didn’t smile back. He didn't know what to say. He moved beside her, and set down.
"Some rain, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Gosh, It's beautiful. Never in my life have I seen such a gorgeous thing."
She shrugged and looked away. He looked down and noticed something in her hands. Something solitary, and tightly grasped into her tiny fist.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"In your hand."
"Oh."
She slowly opened her hand and it contained a key inside. "It's our key, I mean, It's your key."
His heart sank. "Why didn't you just slide it under my door?"
"I don't know. It just didn't seem right."
He opened his palm and she slowly put the key inside his hand.
"Well, I guess I'm on my way." said the girl....
She got up and calmly walked down the steps. He watched her walk away. AGAIN.
He stood and attempted to say something. But he didn't know what. She slowly turned and looked up at him. He spoke, and this time, it was almost a whisper.
"Have you ever danced in the rain?"
"No."
She was almost amused at such a silly question. He slowly walked towards her, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
She threw his arms on her neck, and buried her head into his chest. He dropped the keys, and pulled her close. They were both soaked, and neither seemed to care.
He grabbed her chin, and it wasn't like the thousands of times before. He pressed his cold lips against hers. And tightly shut his eyes.
And they danced....
Friday, August 29, 2008
McCain=Genius
John McCain chose Sarah Palin as his running mate. She's the Governor of Alaska. Now, some of you might ask why this is such a smart move by McCain, and here is the reason. For the last six months, Obama's platform is "change". Now, McCain has completely overshadowed this idea, by chosing, possibly, the first ever Vice President of our great Nation. Being in that change, he chose not only someone the FARTHEST away from D.C. that you can get, but someone who supports drilling in Alaska to reduce our oil prices. The day after Obama gave possibly the greatest speech of all time, McCain makes the smartest decision to choose a woman as his running mate, leaving Obama in nothing but in the back of our minds.
WOMEN
McCain will now get the support of the 19 million people who considered Mrs. Hillary Clinton as our President. After watching the Democratic Convention and doing some research most women seemed unreachable, or not interested after Hillary was beaten. The 19 million cracks in the ceiling left by Hillary and her campaign could be picked up by Palin, and her Genius running mate, McCain.
MILITARY
This amazing woman, not only a Governor and a wife, she also is a mother of 5 children. Her oldest son, joined the military in September 11, 2007. Showing what kind of person, and mother she is. Earning those, who support the war, and our military.
McCain's Campaign adviser, needs to be given a medal. She might have just put him in the white house with this one. I know McCain and Palin will receive my vote.
WOMEN
McCain will now get the support of the 19 million people who considered Mrs. Hillary Clinton as our President. After watching the Democratic Convention and doing some research most women seemed unreachable, or not interested after Hillary was beaten. The 19 million cracks in the ceiling left by Hillary and her campaign could be picked up by Palin, and her Genius running mate, McCain.
MILITARY
This amazing woman, not only a Governor and a wife, she also is a mother of 5 children. Her oldest son, joined the military in September 11, 2007. Showing what kind of person, and mother she is. Earning those, who support the war, and our military.
McCain's Campaign adviser, needs to be given a medal. She might have just put him in the white house with this one. I know McCain and Palin will receive my vote.
Monday, August 18, 2008
LOST
So, before y'all read this keep the thought in mind that I don't consider myself a poet. I just am lucky enough to sit down, and kinda express my feelings...I wrote this around Christmas time of last year when....oh, let's just say my life wasn't in the right place. And my mother can greatly understand that one. Hope y'all enjoy, and if y'all do I'll post some more!!
-Trevor
LOST
Wondering down these streets, lost and out of sight
Searching for anything to make it feel alright
Turning corners and hiding in dark places
I’ve been here before. I remember these faces
Everything here is so blunt yet so secretive
I’m lying to myself, amongst these things trying to find a place to live
I’ve accepted my fortune along with my defeat
I’m hanging by the moment and on the edge of my seat
And now, I hang my head even lower than before
These things that never seemed to hurt, now hurt to the core
Maybe I’ll be able to look up without a pain inside
It writhes and moans, it crawls up and it hides
Something so close and something I’ll never be able to explain
So once again, I lie down with these things that haunt me
I close my eyes hard cause it’s something I don’t want to see
I threw away all my happiness, for fear of losing my pride
Now, I cascaded into a downward spiral with only myself left inside
As I slowly drift to sleep with the sounds of nothing in my heart
I hope to find a point of light, in which to start.
-Trevor
LOST
Wondering down these streets, lost and out of sight
Searching for anything to make it feel alright
Turning corners and hiding in dark places
I’ve been here before. I remember these faces
Everything here is so blunt yet so secretive
I’m lying to myself, amongst these things trying to find a place to live
I’ve accepted my fortune along with my defeat
I’m hanging by the moment and on the edge of my seat
And now, I hang my head even lower than before
These things that never seemed to hurt, now hurt to the core
Maybe I’ll be able to look up without a pain inside
It writhes and moans, it crawls up and it hides
Something so close and something I’ll never be able to explain
So once again, I lie down with these things that haunt me
I close my eyes hard cause it’s something I don’t want to see
I threw away all my happiness, for fear of losing my pride
Now, I cascaded into a downward spiral with only myself left inside
As I slowly drift to sleep with the sounds of nothing in my heart
I hope to find a point of light, in which to start.
Friday, August 15, 2008
The Deanna Jones Saga, Part II
After realizing my inevitable doom, things pretty much went down hill from there. The forced relationship between myself and the random black girl had it's ups and downs...but after a long and hard two days, we decided to call it quits. A couple of months would pass, with Deanna on my back everyday. Chasing me off the bus, sending me home in tears, and a phone call as soon as i got into the door.
"Is Trevuh there?!"
Now, I have two older siblings who loved to make my life hell. Still do at times. I plead with them, that when Deanna called to tell her that I wasn't home. She would call...
"Is Trevuh there?!"
And my brother or sister would smile, look at me...and I knew who it was. They'd turn to me to see my head shaking back and forth, arms waving....
"Yeah, hold on just a sec..."
DAMN!!!!!!
However, one time my older sister, answered the phone and lied to Deanna, telling her I was not there. And of course I was. Now, Deanna somehow knew i was indeed there. After some exchanging of a few curse words from my older sister and Deanna....this is what was said.
"Well, how bout I come ova dere and beat you wid my shoe?!"
"GO Ahead! Come on over!" Oh shit....my sister is gonna get murdered by Deanna. I was so incredibly scared. Not only for myself. But, for my sister as well.
Deanna comes strolling across the street, shoe in hand. And not just any shoe, mind you. It appeared to be a shoe from a 1970's hooker. Big tall disco shoe and what not. There was a knock on the door. I went to the door to see if I could settle this...maybe offer my body to her to save the lives of my family. Or something like that...
"Where ya sista?!"
"Um..she's not here"
"Don lie to me boy, I'll hit ya ass wid dis here shoe firs....now whur she at?!"
"I don't know, Deanna..."
"Aight den, I see how it gonna be. You ole bunch of white people scared huh?!" Wrong thing to say...my sister heard that and comes running around the corner to the front door.
"You gonna hit me with that shoe? Come on in here and do it!"
"GUR! Don't you be tellin' me what to do! I'll beatcha ass wid dis shoe!"
"Do it then! Come on..."
Well, needless to say, Deanna didn't hit anyone with the shoe...she backed down to my older sister and went on home across the street. She really didn't call much after that. But, I still got it at school...she liked to now call me Trevor Sausage. (My name is Trevor Sursa, good one Deanna). But for some reason it still hurt my feelings. She still made my life a living hell.
Summer came and gone, and we were going to be sixth graders. Maybe she wouldn't be in my homeroom this year. Maybe I'll only have to deal with her at lunch! WRONG! She was in fact in my homeroom, and not even that, she was my desk partner....SHIT! I couldn't catch a break. I really had the thought burned into my head that I was going to have to marry this girl...don't ask me why. But I did. The first week of school was shitty. Miserably shitty! She was mean as ever..The first day of the next week, I went to school. Head dragging, preparing myself for another day in hell. I looked at my table...Deanna wasn't there. What?!
I asked my teacher
"Ms. Reedy, where is Deanna?"
"Deanna moved Trevor."
HOLY SHIT! Did all my dreams and prayers become answered at one simultaneous moment?!
She was right, I probbaly asked 100 people where Deanna was that day, just to make sure. She in fact, moved. Then, for some strange reason, i began to feel a little sad she hadn't called me to say bye or that she had fun making my life shit. I went into the bathroom to think some things over....EH! FUCK IT! She's gone!! I started running around the bathroom, celebrating! Flushing every toilet, pulling out paper towels and throwing them, kicking open doors, and screaming at the top of my lungs!
Life was a breeze...I never saw again.
Until...my senior year she moves back. Now, I was at the top. I was the one running the school, everyone listening to what I said, and making the jokes. Deanna had two kids, with the third on the way. And I had out grown her too. But, I can't say that when I heard her name, my stomach started to turn. She stayed there the whole year and graduated with us. I never said one word to her...we made eye contact, but that's about it. But, I can proudly say...that Deanna Jones made me a little tougher. And helped me deal with people like that in my life, and taught me how to stick up for myself. So, thanks Deanna...here's to you. (Raises glass)
The End
"Is Trevuh there?!"
Now, I have two older siblings who loved to make my life hell. Still do at times. I plead with them, that when Deanna called to tell her that I wasn't home. She would call...
"Is Trevuh there?!"
And my brother or sister would smile, look at me...and I knew who it was. They'd turn to me to see my head shaking back and forth, arms waving....
"Yeah, hold on just a sec..."
DAMN!!!!!!
However, one time my older sister, answered the phone and lied to Deanna, telling her I was not there. And of course I was. Now, Deanna somehow knew i was indeed there. After some exchanging of a few curse words from my older sister and Deanna....this is what was said.
"Well, how bout I come ova dere and beat you wid my shoe?!"
"GO Ahead! Come on over!" Oh shit....my sister is gonna get murdered by Deanna. I was so incredibly scared. Not only for myself. But, for my sister as well.
Deanna comes strolling across the street, shoe in hand. And not just any shoe, mind you. It appeared to be a shoe from a 1970's hooker. Big tall disco shoe and what not. There was a knock on the door. I went to the door to see if I could settle this...maybe offer my body to her to save the lives of my family. Or something like that...
"Where ya sista?!"
"Um..she's not here"
"Don lie to me boy, I'll hit ya ass wid dis here shoe firs....now whur she at?!"
"I don't know, Deanna..."
"Aight den, I see how it gonna be. You ole bunch of white people scared huh?!" Wrong thing to say...my sister heard that and comes running around the corner to the front door.
"You gonna hit me with that shoe? Come on in here and do it!"
"GUR! Don't you be tellin' me what to do! I'll beatcha ass wid dis shoe!"
"Do it then! Come on..."
Well, needless to say, Deanna didn't hit anyone with the shoe...she backed down to my older sister and went on home across the street. She really didn't call much after that. But, I still got it at school...she liked to now call me Trevor Sausage. (My name is Trevor Sursa, good one Deanna). But for some reason it still hurt my feelings. She still made my life a living hell.
Summer came and gone, and we were going to be sixth graders. Maybe she wouldn't be in my homeroom this year. Maybe I'll only have to deal with her at lunch! WRONG! She was in fact in my homeroom, and not even that, she was my desk partner....SHIT! I couldn't catch a break. I really had the thought burned into my head that I was going to have to marry this girl...don't ask me why. But I did. The first week of school was shitty. Miserably shitty! She was mean as ever..The first day of the next week, I went to school. Head dragging, preparing myself for another day in hell. I looked at my table...Deanna wasn't there. What?!
I asked my teacher
"Ms. Reedy, where is Deanna?"
"Deanna moved Trevor."
HOLY SHIT! Did all my dreams and prayers become answered at one simultaneous moment?!
She was right, I probbaly asked 100 people where Deanna was that day, just to make sure. She in fact, moved. Then, for some strange reason, i began to feel a little sad she hadn't called me to say bye or that she had fun making my life shit. I went into the bathroom to think some things over....EH! FUCK IT! She's gone!! I started running around the bathroom, celebrating! Flushing every toilet, pulling out paper towels and throwing them, kicking open doors, and screaming at the top of my lungs!
Life was a breeze...I never saw again.
Until...my senior year she moves back. Now, I was at the top. I was the one running the school, everyone listening to what I said, and making the jokes. Deanna had two kids, with the third on the way. And I had out grown her too. But, I can't say that when I heard her name, my stomach started to turn. She stayed there the whole year and graduated with us. I never said one word to her...we made eye contact, but that's about it. But, I can proudly say...that Deanna Jones made me a little tougher. And helped me deal with people like that in my life, and taught me how to stick up for myself. So, thanks Deanna...here's to you. (Raises glass)
The End
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The Deanna Jones Saga...Part I
Deanna Jones...a name that will always send shivers down my spine, and gut wrenching memories when her name is said around me. My family and friends find the story hilarious, and I finally just now am able to laugh about it.
Deanna Jones was a black girl. Some would say, your typical, ghetto, tongue slinging, everyone hating, black girl...she might have been that. But, she was so much more. More than anyone, including Deanna Jones, will ever know. My 5th grade year, we had just moved to a new city. A city in which whites and blacks lived. I had never lived in such a place before. The cities we chose to dwell in were dominated by the white race, with a few Spanish people scattered about. So, I was excited! Real, live....black people! I'd only seen them on the Dallas Cowboys it seemed. My first day at school, I was going along pretty well, and fitting in right away as usual (thanks Mom!). When a MASSIVE black girl, reaching heights of 5'11'', and tipping the scales at a solid 230 comes up to me...it was DEANNA!
"Trevuh!!"
"Ye....yess??" I said this in my tiny little white petrified voice
"You eva dated a black gur?"
"A what?" I had no earthly idea what she had just said to me
"You hurd me, boy! A BLACK gur!"
"A black girl....uh, nnn....no."
"Well, you's about to!"
"I am? Nah, I don't think so..." I completely thought she was talking about herself. But to my surprise, she slowly pointed her big granny like elbow followed by her Planet Of The Apes finger to a very attractive, black girl.
I had nothing against it! Nothing at all...my parents never taught me to hate someone just because the color of their skin. Don't worry...(thanks again, Mom!)
"I I, I, I guess so, Deanna."
"Damn right, you guess so! Now go as hur out!"
"ok."
So, I went and did exactly what I was told to do
She happily accepted, and I..not knowing what to think was glad this girl just didn't pound my skinny little white body into the concrete. I came home, smile on my face and BROKE the news to my mother and father, who's jaw's dropped and hit the floor. Just then, the phone rang. Yes, I know what you're thinking...you gave your number to Deanna Jones? YES! I did...and you would've too. Believe me! My mother answered the phone, and I heard the loud, amazon voice all the way from across the room...
"Is TREVUH there?!"
"Just a second please" said my confused and probably full of shame, mother.
" Hee...Hello?"
"TREVUH!! Look a outcha winda, boy!"
I opened the blinds and looked out....there stood Deanna Jones, cordless phone in hand, standing at the house caddy corner to mine.
WHAT?! Deanna Jones lives across the street from me?!
The End of Part I
Deanna Jones was a black girl. Some would say, your typical, ghetto, tongue slinging, everyone hating, black girl...she might have been that. But, she was so much more. More than anyone, including Deanna Jones, will ever know. My 5th grade year, we had just moved to a new city. A city in which whites and blacks lived. I had never lived in such a place before. The cities we chose to dwell in were dominated by the white race, with a few Spanish people scattered about. So, I was excited! Real, live....black people! I'd only seen them on the Dallas Cowboys it seemed. My first day at school, I was going along pretty well, and fitting in right away as usual (thanks Mom!). When a MASSIVE black girl, reaching heights of 5'11'', and tipping the scales at a solid 230 comes up to me...it was DEANNA!
"Trevuh!!"
"Ye....yess??" I said this in my tiny little white petrified voice
"You eva dated a black gur?"
"A what?" I had no earthly idea what she had just said to me
"You hurd me, boy! A BLACK gur!"
"A black girl....uh, nnn....no."
"Well, you's about to!"
"I am? Nah, I don't think so..." I completely thought she was talking about herself. But to my surprise, she slowly pointed her big granny like elbow followed by her Planet Of The Apes finger to a very attractive, black girl.
I had nothing against it! Nothing at all...my parents never taught me to hate someone just because the color of their skin. Don't worry...(thanks again, Mom!)
"I I, I, I guess so, Deanna."
"Damn right, you guess so! Now go as hur out!"
"ok."
So, I went and did exactly what I was told to do
She happily accepted, and I..not knowing what to think was glad this girl just didn't pound my skinny little white body into the concrete. I came home, smile on my face and BROKE the news to my mother and father, who's jaw's dropped and hit the floor. Just then, the phone rang. Yes, I know what you're thinking...you gave your number to Deanna Jones? YES! I did...and you would've too. Believe me! My mother answered the phone, and I heard the loud, amazon voice all the way from across the room...
"Is TREVUH there?!"
"Just a second please" said my confused and probably full of shame, mother.
" Hee...Hello?"
"TREVUH!! Look a outcha winda, boy!"
I opened the blinds and looked out....there stood Deanna Jones, cordless phone in hand, standing at the house caddy corner to mine.
WHAT?! Deanna Jones lives across the street from me?!
The End of Part I
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Ban Wagon...
So, after making much fun of my mother and her "blogging", and reading a few posts and being somewhat amused, I decided to give my mother a little credit (she may be old , but this is actually entertaining) , and have some fun with her, "Blogging". Let the games BEGIN!
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