Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Introduction

NOTE: This blog will be updated once a month until the final chapter. Next posting will be on or about May 15.

INTRODUCTION



A true friendship is a rare commodity, and is defined only in the way we return this relation. When I was growing up, there was not many people that wanted to get close to me, but the ones that did still are until this day. The Last Partners are a force, that rare commodity, cosmic elements that seldom come together, but have.

The Last Partners is a manuscript I wrote in the early eighties with my three “brothers” help. The Last Partners, C-Bone, Herbo, Midnight, and Boo-Fonz. Friends since early childhood. Have a seat, and let me tell you about them in an effort to lift the spirits of my soul.

There will be many questions coming to mind as you read the words that I am writing. Is this real? What is this man drinking or smoking? Do he really expect me to believe this? As far as whether or not it is real/true or fiction is for you to decide. I do not drink anymore, and, yes, I did smoke during my teen years. Occasionally. As to whether or not you believe is up to you.

THE BEGINNING

I was born in 1961in a mid-size town in Northern Arkansas. Hard as it is to believe, I can remember many things that have happened since I was four years old. The most historic that come to mind is: the assassination of Martin Luther King in Memphis, Tennessee; Apollo 11; the Viet Nam war; the end of the Cold War; the fall of the Berlin wall; the end of the Soviet Union , etc.

My very first girlfriend I remember well. She was a white girl and I was five years old. How did we meet? See, there was a Girl’s Club in our neighborhood, and we lived in a house one block behind it. We would play at the schoolyard right across the street from the Girl‘s Club almost every day. Once while Uncle Tommy was visiting, he met a pretty white girl about fourteen years old in the schoolyard watching over her younger sister, and her friend.

We chased the girls round and round the school building, playing, always ending at the swings. For the life of me, I can not remember her name, but one day she chased me all the way home. I do mean home. I ran to my mother.

My mother came out on the porch. “Honey, can I help you?” she asked the girl.

Pointing at me, she said, “I want him. I want to kiss him.”

Shaking behind my mother’s legs, I whisper, “Momma, tell her no. I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Baby, I’m sorry, but he doesn’t want to be kissed. You need to go on.”

“But I want to kiss him. I like him”

“Momma, no…tell her no.”

Looking at the young girl across the street, “I’m sorry, honey.”

As she walked away, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was ridiculed that night and the next day just because I ran away rather than kiss her. Funny thing is I liked her, and thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

For the next couple of days she did not come to the Girl’s Club. If she did, she did not play in the school yard. See, I was there every day looking for her. I had to see her again, I missed her. On the third day, I was sitting in the swings when I heard a soft feminine voice, “Hey!”

My smile beamed as I saw her face. As bashful as I was, I was so happy to see her, that I ran to her and we hugged. For the next few hours we talked, we played; we played and we talked until it was time for her to wait for her ride. We hugged goodbye.

As we parted, our lips came together in a kiss that was just a little more than what kids should know to do. There were no tongues, just a moment of passion. As cloud one passed, we waved to each other. Cloud two we smiled and blushed. By the time Cloud Nine drifted by, I was at home.

I know there is not a lot in the world that a five year old should know about personal relationships, but hey. We used to play ‘hide and go get it’, and an older neighbor would take us one at a time into a closet on the third floor of their home. We’d kiss, touch and rub stomachs. Humping and grinding. But never penetration. We enjoyed going to their house.

Anyway, this was still during the time of segregation , and I think her parents found out. We never saw each other again.

The Projects

From where we lived, the projects was less than a block away, pass a night club and a liquor store. This was like a black city within the city. Every black family in town had relatives that lived here. My best friend, Herbo’s grandmother, moved there from living in a duplex beside us. Of course, I had relatives there as well. My grandmother.

I remember being invited to a birthday party that Herbo’s grandmother was throwing for him. She lived in the first duplex as you entered the Elm Grove Projects, and my grandmother liver beside her. About twenty-five kids crowded inside for the party. We played, we laughed, and had fun, until it was time for the cake.

Herbo’s mother had us to gather around the table the cake sat on. She lit the candles, and we began singing the birthday song.. Before the song ended, I got very excited, and blew out the candles. Man, was I embarrassed. Herbo’s mother just relit the candles for Herbo to make his wish. This time he blew them out.

I can not remember how I met Boo-Fonz, just that he lived on a short street around the corner from us. Back during this time he was known as Boo-Boo. He had two of the biggest teeth I had ever seen, and he sucked his thumb all the time.

Wee all used to play together, the three of us, until Boo-Fonz’s family moved away. Where he then lived placed him into another school, and we lost contact until Junior High School. Herbo and I hooked back up when my family moved into a house on the street one block from his. Again, we got to attend the same school. I was one grade behind him.

At times, it was like we never moved. Every day after school, we always met up at Elm Grove Projects. Play in either the park or “the Square”, that is what we called the center of the projects. It was great during this time, because it seemed everyone knew and watched out for each other. We were all like one huge family.

My grandmother met and started going with a man who did not live in the project. He was separated from his wife and had one child, a son named LaMont. LaMont, or Midnight, was a heavy set dark skinned child that everyone liked. This is how we met and became friends. Through his dad and my grandmother.

So here we are. Four little boys whom fate kept together through adulthood. Other than Midnight, we all had other siblings, but over the years through the caring and sharing, we all became brothers. One for all, together we shall never fall.

The Last Partners were a unique group of young men. The secrets they shared were never shared with anyone else. Reaching out and touching each other when things got hot, when one had a problem that needed to be dealt with. WHO ARE THEY? WHO ARE THE LAST PARTNERS?