I tried everything I could, on my own.
They said I couldn't do it...
The bank turned me down so many times, they see me passing and go:
Brandi, what do you want? Whatever it is… No! Not a chance! No!
I’d say, hey I was just trying to get to the trashcan. I had to pass your door.
I didn’t see what the problem was. It’s not like I was asking for a hand out, I was asking for a hand up.
I needed $1,800 to get started. I wanted buy more books, bookmarks, posters, among other little things. It's my career.
Most great businesses fail in their first year because lack of capitol.
Not this one. I refuse to fail. I knew what I needed and instead of giving up. I improvised. I picked up my cell phone and went down the list.
I got 18 friends who invested in me. (Well, it took only 10 to get to the amount I needed) And Within 3 days, I had pledges for all of the money! :-)
One of My friends joked that he should hurry and win the lottery so I don't have to ask so many "little" people for help.
Sure, some big shot millionaire can just give it to me. And I’ll be an instant success. All over the place. Quick.
But the gift is: can you get 18 people to believe in you, when you have nothing?
Thank you for believing in me.
My heart is full.
P.S. A lesson revised.
Do not ever ask rich people for money. Poor people will get together and help yo’ ass.
It’s more of them anyway.
B nice.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 04, 2010
How Many Books?
You ever played Spades? Good! Then you know how the game goes...
Wednesday, A lady asked me, why don’t you go on the Daily Buzz?
You’re doing pretty well, she said.
I appreciate her recognizing my hard work and the growth of my book, Crumb Snatchers.
Then she fired off a list of things I should be doing to further the growth.
She meant well. She wants to see me live nicely.
Before anyone else starts…
I’ve thought about these things. Even romanced the ideas.
I like the morning show the Daily Buzz. I like Kia Malone, the host.
I’m trying to accomplish goals. I need to better my infrastructure before I take that step.
It’s not fear. Or carelessness.
A lot of the things I’m doing, (which may seem like a hard, alternate route) I have to do.
I am playing my cards. I didn’t get any Spades or big face cards this hand.
Like, I would like to eat a tender, honey-glazed rack of ribs and buttered, cheese potatoes, but I had to microwave up two scrambled eggs last night. No rice. Drink water.
I don’t ride with the windows down all the time – wind batting me in the face – because I like it; the a/c in my car is broke.
I didn’t put that old shirt on because I liked it or it was my favorite, it was the best one I could salvage.
I don’t necessarily like going to the laundry mat with the drunk, smelly (sometimes bloodied) bums but I need clean clothes.
I liked the cable, I had.
I like champaign too. But this Kool-Aid will just have to do.
And Brandi does not turn down help.
If Brian Harris (owner of BMW) came to me with an offer, I will not turn him down.
You will not hear, No, thank you Sir. Let me go home and think about taking this fully-loaded, limited 2011. Peanut butter ostrich leather seats.
I’m being patient. Putting my funds behind my dreams.
Playing my hand the best way I know how.
I’m going to let my partner across the table, God pick up the books.
When we called the number of possible books I said none, He told me just play He had me.
When the time for the big show comes, I’ll be ready!
Wednesday, A lady asked me, why don’t you go on the Daily Buzz?
You’re doing pretty well, she said.
I appreciate her recognizing my hard work and the growth of my book, Crumb Snatchers.
Then she fired off a list of things I should be doing to further the growth.
She meant well. She wants to see me live nicely.
Before anyone else starts…
I’ve thought about these things. Even romanced the ideas.
I like the morning show the Daily Buzz. I like Kia Malone, the host.
I’m trying to accomplish goals. I need to better my infrastructure before I take that step.
It’s not fear. Or carelessness.
A lot of the things I’m doing, (which may seem like a hard, alternate route) I have to do.
I am playing my cards. I didn’t get any Spades or big face cards this hand.
Like, I would like to eat a tender, honey-glazed rack of ribs and buttered, cheese potatoes, but I had to microwave up two scrambled eggs last night. No rice. Drink water.
I don’t ride with the windows down all the time – wind batting me in the face – because I like it; the a/c in my car is broke.
I didn’t put that old shirt on because I liked it or it was my favorite, it was the best one I could salvage.
I don’t necessarily like going to the laundry mat with the drunk, smelly (sometimes bloodied) bums but I need clean clothes.
I liked the cable, I had.
I like champaign too. But this Kool-Aid will just have to do.
And Brandi does not turn down help.
If Brian Harris (owner of BMW) came to me with an offer, I will not turn him down.
You will not hear, No, thank you Sir. Let me go home and think about taking this fully-loaded, limited 2011. Peanut butter ostrich leather seats.
I’m being patient. Putting my funds behind my dreams.
Playing my hand the best way I know how.
I’m going to let my partner across the table, God pick up the books.
When we called the number of possible books I said none, He told me just play He had me.
When the time for the big show comes, I’ll be ready!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Easy Money...
Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents, which in prosperous circumstances would have lain dormant. - Horace
An older lady walked up to me one day at Wal-Mart and told me to go back to school and be a writer.
That job’s not for you, she said. You’re talented, God gave you a gift.
I like my job. I’ll write. I replied in a nonchalant way.
I hadn’t picked up my ink pen since I graduated.
She lost all-of-her-mind. Period. Or that’s what I thought.
The people messed up and gave me a job where I made over 40k a year. Doing stuff that came easy to me. EASY. I’m 24, the world is finally in my hands.
No major bills. Completed school with a Master’s. No kids. No husband. Just me. And all my little heart desires. All I had to do was: wake up, arrive on time, and keep a low profile, do no hero work. Done.
An automatic check in the mail at the end of the month.
I can catch a flight to New York and pick up some shoes on the weekend and be back in time for work on Monday. Friends want to go out? The tab’s on me. Order whatever.
Someone has a birthday coming up? You can have whatever you like. The bill’s on me.
I feel like wearing new clothes. Something new every day this week. The cashiers at the mall know my first name.
Yup! This is the life. I’ll write when I get back from Disney World. I'll write when I come back from Vegas. I'll write when I come back from London. I'll write when I come back from Cabo.
Or that’s what I thought. After a few months I lost the job. Losing the job didn’t make me sad. Losing all the EASY money that came with it had me upset.
I had to keep moving. Can’t cry for long. OK! OK! I’ll write! I figured I’d finally start on my book. I needed to make money and no one else was hiring.
Long has the wishes from my mom gone up for me to be a writer.
I want you to be a writer, she requested.
Ma, I’ll write, I’d say. One day.
In undergrad, I said I would write a book.
Since I have no job, I might as well. I wrote my book and started off in a new path. Without the money and security. The benefits or guarantee of a meal every night.
Did I say, without security? Everything’s uncertain. The only thing I know, everyone says God gave me talent and I must use it. I was just going to use it later.
Everything I listed above was taken from me. The freedom to travel – my love. Shopping, dining; so much for a social life. Bye. Bye.
There have been times where I have gone weeks without a dime in my pocket.
Can't I get the easy money and write later?
Just with a bit of wonder, why did God take my job, my easy money from me…
My cousin had an answer for me.
God didn’t want you complacent baby, she said.
What do you mean, I asked.
If you still had that job, would you have created your book, she asked.
I pondered her question for a few seconds. With no real answer in my head to give her, I searched her eyes.
See, since you had no money, you had to figure out creative ways to make some, she said. God didn’t want you to be complacent he has something bigger for you to do.
It’s not like I was running from writing. OK, maybe I did. A little. Well, a lot. I just didn’t think it was me. Can I be an author? I didn’t even graduate at the top of my high school class. Most likely to be picked on, pass that award. Awkward. Really? Brandi, an author?
Stop. Kidding. Now.
There, I admit I ran away from writing.
I read. I read a lot. I can devour whole books in one night. I am a reader. I didn’t think it was special. I figured everyone else did the same thing too. I remember, when we were little my sister would read to us and while she was in the first paragraph, I completed the whole page.
You read too slow, Kell, I complained.
Well, OK, Brandi, tell me everything you just read, she’d say.
I’d spit it back out to her almost word for word.
Wow, you did read that, she’d say in amazement. I looked shocked because she’s the Brain. I’m just Pinky. She’s always been the Brain. Her and her report card full of A's.
I just never thought reading and writing dated each other.
My cousin hit me again. Yeah! When God gives you a gift he doesn’t want us to hide it. Sugar keep trusting God, she smiled.
He shook me up. I figured it out.
He put me on a new path. The path everybody’s been telling me to take from the start.
An older lady walked up to me one day at Wal-Mart and told me to go back to school and be a writer.
That job’s not for you, she said. You’re talented, God gave you a gift.
I like my job. I’ll write. I replied in a nonchalant way.
I hadn’t picked up my ink pen since I graduated.
She lost all-of-her-mind. Period. Or that’s what I thought.
The people messed up and gave me a job where I made over 40k a year. Doing stuff that came easy to me. EASY. I’m 24, the world is finally in my hands.
No major bills. Completed school with a Master’s. No kids. No husband. Just me. And all my little heart desires. All I had to do was: wake up, arrive on time, and keep a low profile, do no hero work. Done.
An automatic check in the mail at the end of the month.
I can catch a flight to New York and pick up some shoes on the weekend and be back in time for work on Monday. Friends want to go out? The tab’s on me. Order whatever.
Someone has a birthday coming up? You can have whatever you like. The bill’s on me.
I feel like wearing new clothes. Something new every day this week. The cashiers at the mall know my first name.
Yup! This is the life. I’ll write when I get back from Disney World. I'll write when I come back from Vegas. I'll write when I come back from London. I'll write when I come back from Cabo.
Or that’s what I thought. After a few months I lost the job. Losing the job didn’t make me sad. Losing all the EASY money that came with it had me upset.
I had to keep moving. Can’t cry for long. OK! OK! I’ll write! I figured I’d finally start on my book. I needed to make money and no one else was hiring.
Long has the wishes from my mom gone up for me to be a writer.
I want you to be a writer, she requested.
Ma, I’ll write, I’d say. One day.
In undergrad, I said I would write a book.
Since I have no job, I might as well. I wrote my book and started off in a new path. Without the money and security. The benefits or guarantee of a meal every night.
Did I say, without security? Everything’s uncertain. The only thing I know, everyone says God gave me talent and I must use it. I was just going to use it later.
Everything I listed above was taken from me. The freedom to travel – my love. Shopping, dining; so much for a social life. Bye. Bye.
There have been times where I have gone weeks without a dime in my pocket.
Can't I get the easy money and write later?
Just with a bit of wonder, why did God take my job, my easy money from me…
My cousin had an answer for me.
God didn’t want you complacent baby, she said.
What do you mean, I asked.
If you still had that job, would you have created your book, she asked.
I pondered her question for a few seconds. With no real answer in my head to give her, I searched her eyes.
See, since you had no money, you had to figure out creative ways to make some, she said. God didn’t want you to be complacent he has something bigger for you to do.
It’s not like I was running from writing. OK, maybe I did. A little. Well, a lot. I just didn’t think it was me. Can I be an author? I didn’t even graduate at the top of my high school class. Most likely to be picked on, pass that award. Awkward. Really? Brandi, an author?
Stop. Kidding. Now.
There, I admit I ran away from writing.
I read. I read a lot. I can devour whole books in one night. I am a reader. I didn’t think it was special. I figured everyone else did the same thing too. I remember, when we were little my sister would read to us and while she was in the first paragraph, I completed the whole page.
You read too slow, Kell, I complained.
Well, OK, Brandi, tell me everything you just read, she’d say.
I’d spit it back out to her almost word for word.
Wow, you did read that, she’d say in amazement. I looked shocked because she’s the Brain. I’m just Pinky. She’s always been the Brain. Her and her report card full of A's.
I just never thought reading and writing dated each other.
My cousin hit me again. Yeah! When God gives you a gift he doesn’t want us to hide it. Sugar keep trusting God, she smiled.
He shook me up. I figured it out.
He put me on a new path. The path everybody’s been telling me to take from the start.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Everything’s Not Perfect, But It Is…
A street kid once asked me, “Do you have any doubts?”
He looked me dead in my eyes. I looked back into his, and said, “No.”
He nodded his head. I gained approval and he stamped my ghetto pass.
We were inside a packed gym and I was presenting my book.
When I started my quest to be a best-selling author, I knew I didn’t have much. Actually, I didn’t have a lot of things. I refused to let that stop me.
I thought about things like this:
I don’t have the money to buy my own product and sell, but my Father does. He owns the bank. What if he doesn’t want me in his bank, yet? He’ll open up other people’s wallets for me. Then we just killed two birds with one stone. He’s not setting me up to go to the bank and get turned down, he’s setting me up to think outside the box, other ways of getting money.
I don’t have the advertisements, but my Father told me to focus on making great works and people won’t be able to hold that in. They’ll speak of it everywhere. Word-of-mouth.
I’ll feel inferior with my faded and dated clothes, but my Father owns the clothing store. And he created the world-renowned tailor, who will make my garments.
I don’t know where to go, but my Father knows the way. He will guide me.
I’ll need consultation because I don’t know everything I’m doing, but my Father has that too.
People will criticize me, but my Father has assured me I will not be pulled down. All before me, doing anything artistic has faced criticism and answered all of the best answers in the world. I will not even have to say a word.
A lot of people won’t follow their dreams because they say they don’t have certain things.
Now, that I think about it, that kid asked a great question. My heart doesn’t bear doubt.
That’s why my answer to him was flawless.
He looked me dead in my eyes. I looked back into his, and said, “No.”
He nodded his head. I gained approval and he stamped my ghetto pass.
We were inside a packed gym and I was presenting my book.
When I started my quest to be a best-selling author, I knew I didn’t have much. Actually, I didn’t have a lot of things. I refused to let that stop me.
I thought about things like this:
I don’t have the money to buy my own product and sell, but my Father does. He owns the bank. What if he doesn’t want me in his bank, yet? He’ll open up other people’s wallets for me. Then we just killed two birds with one stone. He’s not setting me up to go to the bank and get turned down, he’s setting me up to think outside the box, other ways of getting money.
I don’t have the advertisements, but my Father told me to focus on making great works and people won’t be able to hold that in. They’ll speak of it everywhere. Word-of-mouth.
I’ll feel inferior with my faded and dated clothes, but my Father owns the clothing store. And he created the world-renowned tailor, who will make my garments.
I don’t know where to go, but my Father knows the way. He will guide me.
I’ll need consultation because I don’t know everything I’m doing, but my Father has that too.
People will criticize me, but my Father has assured me I will not be pulled down. All before me, doing anything artistic has faced criticism and answered all of the best answers in the world. I will not even have to say a word.
A lot of people won’t follow their dreams because they say they don’t have certain things.
Now, that I think about it, that kid asked a great question. My heart doesn’t bear doubt.
That’s why my answer to him was flawless.
Friday, February 05, 2010
Breakfast for Champions
Today, I spoke at Children’s Charter School. They invited me to be the guest speaker for their honors program. I felt delighted! I arrived an hour early and read a snippet of my book to the kids. Breakfast for all of the honor students in grades K-5 started at 10 a.m. Parents packed the place with cameras and gifts. And the energy was high. It was a cool experience for me.
Here is the transcript of my empowering speech:
First, I want to commend you all on a job well done.
As a matter of fact, I think this needs to be taped for 106 & Park because you don’t see this often. Brilliance is not celebrated often in this society.
But, let me tell you guys, around the world they celebrate their honor students.
Right now, it’s a 13-year-old boy at Morehouse College with three majors.
That’s three major subjects he’s studying and he’s making top grades.
I think that’s amazing!
The way you got here this morning, studying, doing extra homework; I want you to stay on that path. Whatever you did, keep doing it.
I also want to encourage you to find the smartest kid in your class and hang out with them. Because you’re good now, but hanging out with the smartest kid in your class will make you better.
And if you are the smartest kid, you hang out with some older kids who are smarter; some of the richest people in the world told me that advice.
We, but, well, everyone in this room; I don’t want us just to be rich, we need to be wealthy. There’s a difference. Rich is just financial. Wealthy is when you leave here and go find your friend who didn’t make the honor roll and you encourage them. Help them to get here too, for next semester. That way, the top is not so lonely.
That’s exactly what someone in this room did with me. And trust me, I am mightily grateful. I was doing everything but the right thing. And he (Mr. Williams) came, he didn’t just tell me, ‘I am wrong’, ‘I am wrong’, he spent time with me. He tutored me in math and science. Whatever I needed help in, he helped me. We even had fun. When he went to the movies or the skating ring with his friends, he took me too.
That showed me that you can make the honor roll and have fun. It became the blueprint for my work ethic. Work hard, you get to play hard. But, keep it on repeat.
And for that, I am eternally grateful. When I am sitting next to Oprah, he’s (Mr. Williams) going to be right there with me.
Last, Be nice to everyone because you never know who they will be.
Continue to work hard. Be blessed. And thank you.
[End transcript]
My very first honors speech. ;)
I didn't see that one coming...
Here is the transcript of my empowering speech:
First, I want to commend you all on a job well done.
As a matter of fact, I think this needs to be taped for 106 & Park because you don’t see this often. Brilliance is not celebrated often in this society.
But, let me tell you guys, around the world they celebrate their honor students.
Right now, it’s a 13-year-old boy at Morehouse College with three majors.
That’s three major subjects he’s studying and he’s making top grades.
I think that’s amazing!
The way you got here this morning, studying, doing extra homework; I want you to stay on that path. Whatever you did, keep doing it.
I also want to encourage you to find the smartest kid in your class and hang out with them. Because you’re good now, but hanging out with the smartest kid in your class will make you better.
And if you are the smartest kid, you hang out with some older kids who are smarter; some of the richest people in the world told me that advice.
We, but, well, everyone in this room; I don’t want us just to be rich, we need to be wealthy. There’s a difference. Rich is just financial. Wealthy is when you leave here and go find your friend who didn’t make the honor roll and you encourage them. Help them to get here too, for next semester. That way, the top is not so lonely.
That’s exactly what someone in this room did with me. And trust me, I am mightily grateful. I was doing everything but the right thing. And he (Mr. Williams) came, he didn’t just tell me, ‘I am wrong’, ‘I am wrong’, he spent time with me. He tutored me in math and science. Whatever I needed help in, he helped me. We even had fun. When he went to the movies or the skating ring with his friends, he took me too.
That showed me that you can make the honor roll and have fun. It became the blueprint for my work ethic. Work hard, you get to play hard. But, keep it on repeat.
And for that, I am eternally grateful. When I am sitting next to Oprah, he’s (Mr. Williams) going to be right there with me.
Last, Be nice to everyone because you never know who they will be.
Continue to work hard. Be blessed. And thank you.
[End transcript]
My very first honors speech. ;)
I didn't see that one coming...
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Foot in the Door
The FedEx man had less than 15 minutes to arrive.
I needed my books!! And I couldn't be late to the librarians meeting!
The delivery was just as important as my own presence for my meeting.
Books in my hand meant money.
FedEx always made it to the house at 9:30. My regular delivery guy even knew to load a few boxes in my car.
He knew my hustle and he loved to see when my orders were big!
My meeting started at 10:30. I had to make it with books. He made it in the nick of time. When my delivery came, I was ready to leave. We didn't talk much because of the rush. Business, you know.
Excitedly, I hopped in my car and made it up the highway.
It's official I told myself, I am an author, with my first book and I’m going meet the librarians.
My name was boldly printed on the agenda next to my book title. I was up for discussion! There were only two authors (including myself) and a handful of other important people there to present.
The audience was mostly women sitting wall to wall in the large room. The energy in the room was high.
The first author went up. I learned she worked a job a few years and had been in the game (literary world) a while so I sat back and played the rookie.
Yes, A rookie, but I planned to lead off my book presentation as if I was a top draft pick that made the starting line-up. I had to tuck my stage freight away.
As I walked to the podium I thought, I am now, the LeBron of writing. Franchise. No bench warmer. I have million dollar ink-pen endorsements.
Before I went up I prayed a silent prayer. Lord, please don’t let me trip, stutter or fall.
The first author was good. She was really good, and sometimes it's hard to go after good. I decided to feed off of her and the crowd energy.
My words came out of my mouth as I planned them in my head and several were eager to meet me afterwards.
One came up, grabbed my hand and said, "So nice to meet you. You know, we usually don't have authors over."
“Yes, I heard,” I replied with a smile.
"Let me buy a copy of your book."
“Why, sure!”
“I’ll read it first and see if it will be something our kids will be excited for,” she continued.
“I think you're going to like it,” I grinned.
She skimmed through the pages.
“I like it already,” she smiled back.
“When you are finished reading it can I come to your school? And do you order books?”
“You know what, you can because I think you will be great for our kids. Is your schedule be open? And, yes, we would order your book for the kids.”
“Yes, it is,” I beamed. My skin glowed even in the old recessed lighting and my heart did summersaults.
“I think that will be great.”
“Me too!!”
That day, I gained entry into three schools. I did well; most of the librarians worked at schools for younger kids and they were getting riddled with information packets, order forms with some companies even offering books for only a dollar.
[SIDEBAR]
My heart skipped another beat. I thought it was going to have me out of breath. I had to talk it into calming down. If I didn’t catch my breath we both were going to be in trouble.
OK! OK! Keep still, Heart!! We did great!
[END SIDEBAR]
On my way skipping out of the door a lady stopped me.
“Brandi, can you please sign your poster for my kids,” she asked. “You know, we usually don't have authors here.”
I take it as an honor, where do you want me to sign?
I needed my books!! And I couldn't be late to the librarians meeting!
The delivery was just as important as my own presence for my meeting.
Books in my hand meant money.
FedEx always made it to the house at 9:30. My regular delivery guy even knew to load a few boxes in my car.
He knew my hustle and he loved to see when my orders were big!
My meeting started at 10:30. I had to make it with books. He made it in the nick of time. When my delivery came, I was ready to leave. We didn't talk much because of the rush. Business, you know.
Excitedly, I hopped in my car and made it up the highway.
It's official I told myself, I am an author, with my first book and I’m going meet the librarians.
My name was boldly printed on the agenda next to my book title. I was up for discussion! There were only two authors (including myself) and a handful of other important people there to present.
The audience was mostly women sitting wall to wall in the large room. The energy in the room was high.
The first author went up. I learned she worked a job a few years and had been in the game (literary world) a while so I sat back and played the rookie.
Yes, A rookie, but I planned to lead off my book presentation as if I was a top draft pick that made the starting line-up. I had to tuck my stage freight away.
As I walked to the podium I thought, I am now, the LeBron of writing. Franchise. No bench warmer. I have million dollar ink-pen endorsements.
Before I went up I prayed a silent prayer. Lord, please don’t let me trip, stutter or fall.
The first author was good. She was really good, and sometimes it's hard to go after good. I decided to feed off of her and the crowd energy.
My words came out of my mouth as I planned them in my head and several were eager to meet me afterwards.
One came up, grabbed my hand and said, "So nice to meet you. You know, we usually don't have authors over."
“Yes, I heard,” I replied with a smile.
"Let me buy a copy of your book."
“Why, sure!”
“I’ll read it first and see if it will be something our kids will be excited for,” she continued.
“I think you're going to like it,” I grinned.
She skimmed through the pages.
“I like it already,” she smiled back.
“When you are finished reading it can I come to your school? And do you order books?”
“You know what, you can because I think you will be great for our kids. Is your schedule be open? And, yes, we would order your book for the kids.”
“Yes, it is,” I beamed. My skin glowed even in the old recessed lighting and my heart did summersaults.
“I think that will be great.”
“Me too!!”
That day, I gained entry into three schools. I did well; most of the librarians worked at schools for younger kids and they were getting riddled with information packets, order forms with some companies even offering books for only a dollar.
[SIDEBAR]
My heart skipped another beat. I thought it was going to have me out of breath. I had to talk it into calming down. If I didn’t catch my breath we both were going to be in trouble.
OK! OK! Keep still, Heart!! We did great!
[END SIDEBAR]
On my way skipping out of the door a lady stopped me.
“Brandi, can you please sign your poster for my kids,” she asked. “You know, we usually don't have authors here.”
I take it as an honor, where do you want me to sign?
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Change of Heart
She said she wouldn’t do it. Absolutely not. No way. No how.
“I do not promote authors,” she said. “Once I promote one, they will all be coming knocking down the door.”
Listening intently to her, I tilted my head slightly to the side.
“I’ve been doing this for over 20 years, Brandi. And I treat everyone the same.”
I understand. Really, I did understand.
I traveled a long way to meet the head librarian. I needed to get information on how to continue to promote my own book. Being a dependent isn’t what I’m about. I’ll educate myself and keep moving.
Besides, it is MY project. It’s only going to work if I get behind it.
I held no qualms with this lady. She rose from her seat and told her secretary a few words. Looking down in my lap, rubbed my hands together and plucked at a button on my skirt.
She came back in and I looked up.
“Well, what’s your book about,” she asked with interest.
Figuring this was my window, I climbed through. She was only giving me a minute and I had to make the most of my time.
With wise words I told her about the story. She listened.
“You know what, I have a meeting tomorrow. All of my librarians from the entire district will be here to meet with me,” she told me.
Looking at her, I nodded my head for her to keep talking.
“I’ll talk to just a few about you and see what they say. Thanks for meeting me, and you have a nice day, but I just don’t promote authors. I don’t have the time.”
Politely, I thanked her. Before I left my seat I took a copy of my book and slid it closer to her on her desk.
“You can keep this copy,” I said.
“Well, thanks, I can show them this,” she said. “I’ll call you.”
I left my seat and walked out of the door. I did everything I could do, I told myself as I drove down the road. Networking here, networking there.
Confidently, I went after something I thought could help me.
This was just another lead that died. I’ll have to start fresh tomorrow and search for someone new. Try again, Brandi.
Just then when I pulled up to a red light, almost home my phone started ringing. I answered.
“Brandi, I want you to come to the meeting, you’ll be only one of two of my featured authors. And I really don’t do this, but I think there’s something different about you.”
Well, Thank You, I will be there.
“I do not promote authors,” she said. “Once I promote one, they will all be coming knocking down the door.”
Listening intently to her, I tilted my head slightly to the side.
“I’ve been doing this for over 20 years, Brandi. And I treat everyone the same.”
I understand. Really, I did understand.
I traveled a long way to meet the head librarian. I needed to get information on how to continue to promote my own book. Being a dependent isn’t what I’m about. I’ll educate myself and keep moving.
Besides, it is MY project. It’s only going to work if I get behind it.
I held no qualms with this lady. She rose from her seat and told her secretary a few words. Looking down in my lap, rubbed my hands together and plucked at a button on my skirt.
She came back in and I looked up.
“Well, what’s your book about,” she asked with interest.
Figuring this was my window, I climbed through. She was only giving me a minute and I had to make the most of my time.
With wise words I told her about the story. She listened.
“You know what, I have a meeting tomorrow. All of my librarians from the entire district will be here to meet with me,” she told me.
Looking at her, I nodded my head for her to keep talking.
“I’ll talk to just a few about you and see what they say. Thanks for meeting me, and you have a nice day, but I just don’t promote authors. I don’t have the time.”
Politely, I thanked her. Before I left my seat I took a copy of my book and slid it closer to her on her desk.
“You can keep this copy,” I said.
“Well, thanks, I can show them this,” she said. “I’ll call you.”
I left my seat and walked out of the door. I did everything I could do, I told myself as I drove down the road. Networking here, networking there.
Confidently, I went after something I thought could help me.
This was just another lead that died. I’ll have to start fresh tomorrow and search for someone new. Try again, Brandi.
Just then when I pulled up to a red light, almost home my phone started ringing. I answered.
“Brandi, I want you to come to the meeting, you’ll be only one of two of my featured authors. And I really don’t do this, but I think there’s something different about you.”
Well, Thank You, I will be there.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Wait! Susan’s what?! Nope, I don’t think so…
Oh, they have me mistaken!
I am Angela Davis. I am Nikki Giovanni. I am Kizzy Kinte.
I am Harriet Tubman. I am Afenni Shakur. I am Thug Life.
If something’s not going right, I will at least break a bottle in protest!
Maybe it’s my soft looks, voice, or demeanor but the people are confused.
I admit, my generation is soft. We don’t fight for anything.
The man can fire 45 professors and we would sit back and say, “I didn’t like him anyway.”
We want handouts. Well, I am not that person. I’ll take what I want.
All these thoughts went through my head as I sat in the Superintendent’s office.
I walked up there myself. No one held my hand.
I wore a pair of black slacks and a crisp white shirt.
I looked polished and elegant like a doll.
My freshly suntanned skin glistened like a California girl who just came off the beach.
My hair left sweet ribbons of fresh shampoo in the air.
I even dashed myself with a hint of Ralph Lauren, Romance.
I felt and looked great.
Despite all the odds, I was sitting in the head guy’s office and I’d bypassed a bunch of goon middlemen. I knew I was supposed to be here. He’s a busy man, and doesn’t spend much time on anything because he has so many things to do.
But here I was, sitting for the last 30 minutes right across from him, comfortable like we grew up together.
I had my book “Crumb Snatchers” in my hand, fresh off the press. I did everything to my book on my own, with no resources but my brain. No one like me was supposed to make it this far, not even past his secretary.
Only big named authors, with big money was supposed to be sitting back, relaxed with the Superintendent, who has the power and money to say weather he wants your book in his schools.
I’d already handed off my book to his head reading curriculum personnel to be read.
She brought back her report early. I was happy for that. I sat back and ran his expensive $100 ink pen I plucked from his memos through my bony fingers.
The Superintendent was making important calls. Important calls for me.
As I listened in, I could hear the delight in his voice when he spoke of me to his other important friends. Important people know important people.
Each time he made a new call, he’d be so excited and say he had a young girl in his office.
“She has a book, and she did this, this, this, this and I think she’s going to go far. This is just precious,” he said, admiring my pictures from my very first book signing, my poise and confidence. And he was so proud.
I really started to like him. Until he made one more call.
He started the call to the “Dr… I have this young girl in my office, and she is impressive, genuine, what can we do to help her get her more opportunities.”
I dropped the ink pen. I’m saying to myself, I am a gangster.
If you ask a gangster if I am a gangster; they will acknowledge me.
I’m A business-woman. And I take care of mine.
I have no fears, no doubts. I’m pretty but, nobody better not touch me.
I abide by the G-Code. 100. This is my creed.
And now the Superintendent is going awestruck like I’m the belle of the ball at a Sweet 16 debut. I did tell him I earned my M.A. That took me five years of hard, hard work at school!
For the most part, I passed 16!
On one hand, my mom passed down dimples to me, and cheeks that flush rose when I blush. And my aunt handed me a slender figure, the stuff you can see on runways ran by youngsters.
Yet, this is no kid stuff. I need to get this book deal. This is my life. I plan to live my dream.
The way I see it, I am not Lil’ Bran, Precious, Sweetie or Susan’s Lil’ girl anymore for that matter. I am Brandi. That’s B.R.A.N.D.I., and I am about to take over the world!
People can’t call me Susan’s lil’ girl anymore!
I remember a lady around 60, who hit her husband on his shoulder and identified me as Susan’s lil’ girl to get him to by a book, she can’t do that.
The world takes big dogs seriously. I just look like a lamb, but I am really a lioness.
He hung up the phone looked at me and smiled. Then he handed over a card that turned into another guy giving me a check.
“You have the book deal, and go to all of my other schools and they will support you too, sweetie. Tell them I sent you,” he said with pride as if I was one of his kids he helped raised.
I sat in amazement and forgot everything. All I heard was, "go to all of my schools."
“You’re young and you’re going to go far,” he told me.
He looked deep in my eyes and I knew he looked past my pupils, past their connecting veins to something further.
I looked at the digits for the check and changed my mind.
I figured my new best supporter could refer to me as Susan’s lil’ girl anytime.
Hey, you can’t knock the hustle.
I am Angela Davis. I am Nikki Giovanni. I am Kizzy Kinte.
I am Harriet Tubman. I am Afenni Shakur. I am Thug Life.
If something’s not going right, I will at least break a bottle in protest!
Maybe it’s my soft looks, voice, or demeanor but the people are confused.
I admit, my generation is soft. We don’t fight for anything.
The man can fire 45 professors and we would sit back and say, “I didn’t like him anyway.”
We want handouts. Well, I am not that person. I’ll take what I want.
All these thoughts went through my head as I sat in the Superintendent’s office.
I walked up there myself. No one held my hand.
I wore a pair of black slacks and a crisp white shirt.
I looked polished and elegant like a doll.
My freshly suntanned skin glistened like a California girl who just came off the beach.
My hair left sweet ribbons of fresh shampoo in the air.
I even dashed myself with a hint of Ralph Lauren, Romance.
I felt and looked great.
Despite all the odds, I was sitting in the head guy’s office and I’d bypassed a bunch of goon middlemen. I knew I was supposed to be here. He’s a busy man, and doesn’t spend much time on anything because he has so many things to do.
But here I was, sitting for the last 30 minutes right across from him, comfortable like we grew up together.
I had my book “Crumb Snatchers” in my hand, fresh off the press. I did everything to my book on my own, with no resources but my brain. No one like me was supposed to make it this far, not even past his secretary.
Only big named authors, with big money was supposed to be sitting back, relaxed with the Superintendent, who has the power and money to say weather he wants your book in his schools.
I’d already handed off my book to his head reading curriculum personnel to be read.
She brought back her report early. I was happy for that. I sat back and ran his expensive $100 ink pen I plucked from his memos through my bony fingers.
The Superintendent was making important calls. Important calls for me.
As I listened in, I could hear the delight in his voice when he spoke of me to his other important friends. Important people know important people.
Each time he made a new call, he’d be so excited and say he had a young girl in his office.
“She has a book, and she did this, this, this, this and I think she’s going to go far. This is just precious,” he said, admiring my pictures from my very first book signing, my poise and confidence. And he was so proud.
I really started to like him. Until he made one more call.
He started the call to the “Dr… I have this young girl in my office, and she is impressive, genuine, what can we do to help her get her more opportunities.”
I dropped the ink pen. I’m saying to myself, I am a gangster.
If you ask a gangster if I am a gangster; they will acknowledge me.
I’m A business-woman. And I take care of mine.
I have no fears, no doubts. I’m pretty but, nobody better not touch me.
I abide by the G-Code. 100. This is my creed.
And now the Superintendent is going awestruck like I’m the belle of the ball at a Sweet 16 debut. I did tell him I earned my M.A. That took me five years of hard, hard work at school!
For the most part, I passed 16!
On one hand, my mom passed down dimples to me, and cheeks that flush rose when I blush. And my aunt handed me a slender figure, the stuff you can see on runways ran by youngsters.
Yet, this is no kid stuff. I need to get this book deal. This is my life. I plan to live my dream.
The way I see it, I am not Lil’ Bran, Precious, Sweetie or Susan’s Lil’ girl anymore for that matter. I am Brandi. That’s B.R.A.N.D.I., and I am about to take over the world!
People can’t call me Susan’s lil’ girl anymore!
I remember a lady around 60, who hit her husband on his shoulder and identified me as Susan’s lil’ girl to get him to by a book, she can’t do that.
The world takes big dogs seriously. I just look like a lamb, but I am really a lioness.
He hung up the phone looked at me and smiled. Then he handed over a card that turned into another guy giving me a check.
“You have the book deal, and go to all of my other schools and they will support you too, sweetie. Tell them I sent you,” he said with pride as if I was one of his kids he helped raised.
I sat in amazement and forgot everything. All I heard was, "go to all of my schools."
“You’re young and you’re going to go far,” he told me.
He looked deep in my eyes and I knew he looked past my pupils, past their connecting veins to something further.
I looked at the digits for the check and changed my mind.
I figured my new best supporter could refer to me as Susan’s lil’ girl anytime.
Hey, you can’t knock the hustle.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sweet Surprise
I’m back now. My first blog of 2010. Hooray!
Thinking back, I remember the day well. It was my Godson’s birthday.
For at least an hour I went back and forth in my head about what I should get him.
I decided to send him a card and a copy of my new book, “Crumb Snatchers.”
Anytime I give someone something I love to give them the coolest gifts.
Give nice, receive nice, is my motto.
I didn’t think much of the gift. Well, I thought he would think the money was cooler.
I figured I’d just slide him the book.
I knew some kids wanted my book but I didn’t think he would read it with a little girl on the cover.
You know, he’s at that age, 10, and he’s a boy’s boy, a tough boy.
If a little girl’s on the cover, he may not read it, or at least I thought.
A few months passed and he sent a message to me over the Christmas holidays.
He told me his teacher wanted to meet me.
I thought nothing of it – my mood was down and after the first school picked up my book random people wanted to see me more all the time anyway. Following your dreams is sometimes tough. I felt a little down and out.
I was grateful, busy, sick and halfway wanted to go.
I figured I would put seeing her on my list of things to do.
After I slept on the idea the next day, my Godson sent me another message.
I put seeing his teacher a little higher up on my list.
I wanted to let him know he’s important and I would do the things he asks me to do.
The next free Monday morning I had, I went unannounced to my Godson’s school and met with his teacher. (I figured if she requested me, I was invited anyway.)
She had a copy of my book and told me she enjoyed reading my work. I thanked her for the compliment.
I was a bit shocked because I didn’t recall selling her a book.
She told me my Godson brought her his personal copy after seeing me on a newsletter at the school.
I instantly smiled because I remember giving him that book over the summer for his birthday.
Things were working in my favor. In our favor.
The teacher asked me to do a reading for the kids.
I hesitated a bit because I was just getting over bad congestion and hardly had a voice.
She told me my Godson was coming in the next class.
I figured it would be a nice surprise. I wanted to see him anyway.
I agreed to stay and talk. Besides I have learned, anything going great, don’t interfere, let it continue…
The teacher went to get the kids. I stayed behind and sat in a small corner.
A few minutes passed and the door opened wide. The first kid to walk through was my Godson. His little eyes lit up.
My eyes lit up. His look gave me instant energy. We hugged.
And everyone else filled the classroom in with little amazed looks on their faces.
I now had the floor. It’s show time. I introduced myself and caught the approving glance on my Godson’s face. That was the confidence I needed. I read a snippet of my book and fielded intelligent questions for the next 30 minutes.
The day really started to turn out fun! The kids wanted more.
I met with the librarian and the school placed an order for my books.
I left the school just amazed. I went from being in a bad state, lacking motivation and not wanting to go to another school to instantly being put back up on top of the world. All off the voice of one little kid and a birthday gift!
I think I’m more honored for him to pull me up out of the ashes at just 10, than he is honored for his Godmother to be a best-selling author.
I can’t decide. One thing I know for sure is that he helped me remember that this is my destiny.
Thinking back, I remember the day well. It was my Godson’s birthday.
For at least an hour I went back and forth in my head about what I should get him.
I decided to send him a card and a copy of my new book, “Crumb Snatchers.”
Anytime I give someone something I love to give them the coolest gifts.
Give nice, receive nice, is my motto.
I didn’t think much of the gift. Well, I thought he would think the money was cooler.
I figured I’d just slide him the book.
I knew some kids wanted my book but I didn’t think he would read it with a little girl on the cover.
You know, he’s at that age, 10, and he’s a boy’s boy, a tough boy.
If a little girl’s on the cover, he may not read it, or at least I thought.
A few months passed and he sent a message to me over the Christmas holidays.
He told me his teacher wanted to meet me.
I thought nothing of it – my mood was down and after the first school picked up my book random people wanted to see me more all the time anyway. Following your dreams is sometimes tough. I felt a little down and out.
I was grateful, busy, sick and halfway wanted to go.
I figured I would put seeing her on my list of things to do.
After I slept on the idea the next day, my Godson sent me another message.
I put seeing his teacher a little higher up on my list.
I wanted to let him know he’s important and I would do the things he asks me to do.
The next free Monday morning I had, I went unannounced to my Godson’s school and met with his teacher. (I figured if she requested me, I was invited anyway.)
She had a copy of my book and told me she enjoyed reading my work. I thanked her for the compliment.
I was a bit shocked because I didn’t recall selling her a book.
She told me my Godson brought her his personal copy after seeing me on a newsletter at the school.
I instantly smiled because I remember giving him that book over the summer for his birthday.
Things were working in my favor. In our favor.
The teacher asked me to do a reading for the kids.
I hesitated a bit because I was just getting over bad congestion and hardly had a voice.
She told me my Godson was coming in the next class.
I figured it would be a nice surprise. I wanted to see him anyway.
I agreed to stay and talk. Besides I have learned, anything going great, don’t interfere, let it continue…
The teacher went to get the kids. I stayed behind and sat in a small corner.
A few minutes passed and the door opened wide. The first kid to walk through was my Godson. His little eyes lit up.
My eyes lit up. His look gave me instant energy. We hugged.
And everyone else filled the classroom in with little amazed looks on their faces.
I now had the floor. It’s show time. I introduced myself and caught the approving glance on my Godson’s face. That was the confidence I needed. I read a snippet of my book and fielded intelligent questions for the next 30 minutes.
The day really started to turn out fun! The kids wanted more.
I met with the librarian and the school placed an order for my books.
I left the school just amazed. I went from being in a bad state, lacking motivation and not wanting to go to another school to instantly being put back up on top of the world. All off the voice of one little kid and a birthday gift!
I think I’m more honored for him to pull me up out of the ashes at just 10, than he is honored for his Godmother to be a best-selling author.
I can’t decide. One thing I know for sure is that he helped me remember that this is my destiny.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Moving on Up! *Que the Jeffersons*
Check out my new home. www.brandiworley.com
www.lulu.com/brandiworley
Cozy.
www.lulu.com/brandiworley
Cozy.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Unfortunate Events of Joon
When the storm comes Momma gets excited. She runs around the house telling us kids to open up all the windows to “Let God air out the house.”
We do what she says. The breeze usually feels good. But we know its running from a monster. Like the birds did a week before. And the horses prance in circles around their pastures. Animals know when bad weather is coming. Even bees stop buzzing as if they know to hide.
Momma’s just different she looks at the glass half-full.
I sat on the front porch that day in my pajamas. My hair blew in the wind. I watched some neighbors board up their houses. Momma wouldn’t board up the house because neither of us could muscle the plywood nor wield a hammer properly. So we prayed God would keep us safe.
As I sat, I wondered what my old friend, Joon was up to. A few minutes later I saw him make his way down to my porch.
Just as we always do we made simple conversation. Well, I usually let him do most of the talking. I listen. I could tell someone put a few dollars in his pocket. He walked with an extra hip to his step. Someone probably paid him for hammering their plywood.
I liked when he had a little money. At the least he can buy himself a hot meal.
Unfortunate happenings always hit him. He drank. He walked the streets all day. He smelled like a drunk. In a few more years he would be eligible for senior citizen benefits. Which he would probably waste. His wife left him because she couldn’t take the poverty-stricken lifestyle anymore.
Momma gets on him from time to time.
“Joon go cut your grass.” “Treat Rena right, Joon. Do right by that woman.” “Stop drinking so much.” “Go pay your bill.” “Stop being so stubborn.” “Joon you need to stop letting people park their old cars in your yard.”
Joon hates it when Momma preaches to him. He befriends me, because at least I don’t talk back. I guess what she tells him goes in one ear and out the other.
Joon’s a boney man. Yet, he’s stronger than anyone I know.
One day he came under the porch wearing thermal underwear. In mid-August. I told him it was thermal. He insisted it wasn’t. I really was quite sure that it was thermal. Again, he insisted it wasn’t. Momma even came out on the porch and said, “Joon, go take that thermal off and put a t-shirt on.”
“No, ma’am, this ain’t no thermal,” he proclaimed in a defiant tone.
I didn’t want to be disrespectful, ridiculous or not, he’s still my elder.
Without looking, as I wiped sweat off my brow, I just mumbled under my breath, “That shit is thermal.” I sucked my teeth then I let it drop.
Had that would have been a normal person, they would have passed out from heat stroke. Not Joon. He can walk all day without an inkling of arthritis. I never hear him talk about pain. I know his house isn’t clean but he never has a cold or food poisoning.
But let me get back to my story. Well Joon’s unfortunate story. With the storm coming, everyone needed cover. We sat on the porch and Joon told me he was going to the shelter. I figured he would be. It’s just him and his old banged up trailer. I wanted him out of that trailer. It swayed in light wind. The newscaster said Gustav would be a category 4.
I figured the storm would come along and help some people. As Joon talked, I thought about people patching up their already patched up shacks. I figured they probably should at least hope to get it blown down instead of patching some more.
Saving that crap for what? I thought.
Momma would let the storm come through and rip up everything and she would say, “I’ll just go and get a new one.” There’s a blessing in the storm.
Momma had a point. Joon didn’t patch his trailer up because he couldn’t afford the plywood. The plywood probably valued more than his hut. I hoped for him that the storm would take it down. I knew he wouldn’t. I figured that in his state FEMA would help him. I had seen FEMA fix people up. Folks, whose homes were raggedy before the storm, but filed a claim on it and won the award. I liked them because at least they actually took the money and fixed the house up.
The storm came and ripped up everyone’s home. Even Momma’s house took on roof damage. FEMA came out in droves. Some people got help. Some people didn’t. Every day I sat on the porch. Each time in a new pair of pajamas. I watched people get their homes fixed up. Every other house had a roofer on top its structure.
As things started to die down, Joon came back to visit me. I jumped with excitement when I saw him. I figured he would tell me how much FEMA gave him. Then I would put it in his mind to go buy himself a new trailer. I had all kinds of things I wanted to tell him. I had to listen though.
Joon talked to Momma.
Joon said, Mr. FEMA man came for the home inspection.
The man walked in the un kept yard. He walked past the junk cars. He walked past the dead animals. He walked to the broken steps. He opened the rickety door. He followed Joon to the threshold of the door. He smelled the stench of human fecal rot. He backed up. Joon smiled a toothless grin at Mr. FEMA.
“Come on in man, this is my house.”
Mr. FEMA backed up some more.
“Oh, man, come on in,” Joon said.
“Oh, man, turn the lights on,” Mr. FEMA said.
“Ain’t no light,” Joon replied.
“Go ahead on in, my bedroom is in the back,” Joon pointed.
“Man, I’m not going in this house,” Mr. FEMA replied.
Joon stood confused.
Mr. FEMA pulled out his hand held computer and typed in a few things. Joon thought maybe he would get something. Mr. FEMA shook his head no.
Joon stared in utter disbelief.
“Now, Mr. Jarvis, you know and I know, that this is an abandoned house.”
I guess that’s the last thing he wanted to hear. But he really did live there.
We do what she says. The breeze usually feels good. But we know its running from a monster. Like the birds did a week before. And the horses prance in circles around their pastures. Animals know when bad weather is coming. Even bees stop buzzing as if they know to hide.
Momma’s just different she looks at the glass half-full.
I sat on the front porch that day in my pajamas. My hair blew in the wind. I watched some neighbors board up their houses. Momma wouldn’t board up the house because neither of us could muscle the plywood nor wield a hammer properly. So we prayed God would keep us safe.
As I sat, I wondered what my old friend, Joon was up to. A few minutes later I saw him make his way down to my porch.
Just as we always do we made simple conversation. Well, I usually let him do most of the talking. I listen. I could tell someone put a few dollars in his pocket. He walked with an extra hip to his step. Someone probably paid him for hammering their plywood.
I liked when he had a little money. At the least he can buy himself a hot meal.
Unfortunate happenings always hit him. He drank. He walked the streets all day. He smelled like a drunk. In a few more years he would be eligible for senior citizen benefits. Which he would probably waste. His wife left him because she couldn’t take the poverty-stricken lifestyle anymore.
Momma gets on him from time to time.
“Joon go cut your grass.” “Treat Rena right, Joon. Do right by that woman.” “Stop drinking so much.” “Go pay your bill.” “Stop being so stubborn.” “Joon you need to stop letting people park their old cars in your yard.”
Joon hates it when Momma preaches to him. He befriends me, because at least I don’t talk back. I guess what she tells him goes in one ear and out the other.
Joon’s a boney man. Yet, he’s stronger than anyone I know.
One day he came under the porch wearing thermal underwear. In mid-August. I told him it was thermal. He insisted it wasn’t. I really was quite sure that it was thermal. Again, he insisted it wasn’t. Momma even came out on the porch and said, “Joon, go take that thermal off and put a t-shirt on.”
“No, ma’am, this ain’t no thermal,” he proclaimed in a defiant tone.
I didn’t want to be disrespectful, ridiculous or not, he’s still my elder.
Without looking, as I wiped sweat off my brow, I just mumbled under my breath, “That shit is thermal.” I sucked my teeth then I let it drop.
Had that would have been a normal person, they would have passed out from heat stroke. Not Joon. He can walk all day without an inkling of arthritis. I never hear him talk about pain. I know his house isn’t clean but he never has a cold or food poisoning.
But let me get back to my story. Well Joon’s unfortunate story. With the storm coming, everyone needed cover. We sat on the porch and Joon told me he was going to the shelter. I figured he would be. It’s just him and his old banged up trailer. I wanted him out of that trailer. It swayed in light wind. The newscaster said Gustav would be a category 4.
I figured the storm would come along and help some people. As Joon talked, I thought about people patching up their already patched up shacks. I figured they probably should at least hope to get it blown down instead of patching some more.
Saving that crap for what? I thought.
Momma would let the storm come through and rip up everything and she would say, “I’ll just go and get a new one.” There’s a blessing in the storm.
Momma had a point. Joon didn’t patch his trailer up because he couldn’t afford the plywood. The plywood probably valued more than his hut. I hoped for him that the storm would take it down. I knew he wouldn’t. I figured that in his state FEMA would help him. I had seen FEMA fix people up. Folks, whose homes were raggedy before the storm, but filed a claim on it and won the award. I liked them because at least they actually took the money and fixed the house up.
The storm came and ripped up everyone’s home. Even Momma’s house took on roof damage. FEMA came out in droves. Some people got help. Some people didn’t. Every day I sat on the porch. Each time in a new pair of pajamas. I watched people get their homes fixed up. Every other house had a roofer on top its structure.
As things started to die down, Joon came back to visit me. I jumped with excitement when I saw him. I figured he would tell me how much FEMA gave him. Then I would put it in his mind to go buy himself a new trailer. I had all kinds of things I wanted to tell him. I had to listen though.
Joon talked to Momma.
Joon said, Mr. FEMA man came for the home inspection.
The man walked in the un kept yard. He walked past the junk cars. He walked past the dead animals. He walked to the broken steps. He opened the rickety door. He followed Joon to the threshold of the door. He smelled the stench of human fecal rot. He backed up. Joon smiled a toothless grin at Mr. FEMA.
“Come on in man, this is my house.”
Mr. FEMA backed up some more.
“Oh, man, come on in,” Joon said.
“Oh, man, turn the lights on,” Mr. FEMA said.
“Ain’t no light,” Joon replied.
“Go ahead on in, my bedroom is in the back,” Joon pointed.
“Man, I’m not going in this house,” Mr. FEMA replied.
Joon stood confused.
Mr. FEMA pulled out his hand held computer and typed in a few things. Joon thought maybe he would get something. Mr. FEMA shook his head no.
Joon stared in utter disbelief.
“Now, Mr. Jarvis, you know and I know, that this is an abandoned house.”
I guess that’s the last thing he wanted to hear. But he really did live there.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Sheets
I froze last night. The temperature dipped below 33 degrees. When I was little I learned in a science class that water freezes at 32 degrees and I always remembered that.
That’s how I know I froze.
I slept under two blankets, swath like a newborn, yet I shivered. Sad little shivers prickled off my body from under my pajamas.
The night before I stripped my bed of the sheet, fitted sheet, and pillowcases. I figured I could do without them just for the night. I didn’t feel like washing my only set. After a horrible bout with a cold I didn’t have the energy.
I’d have to take you back about three months ago to tell you how I ended up with one set of sheets.
It came from a difference with mother. She insisted that I get 500 count sheets and nothing less. I walked the aisles of the pricey department store for sheets and watched her as she stocked piled up on a cache of fresh sheets.
“What’s the point?” I asked.
“Ohhh baby, you’re going to see once you lay on these sheets. These are luxurious and not scratchy like the ones you buy,” she responded in somewhat of a slight snobbish air or one accustomed to finer things in life.
I sighed. On her salary she could afford the nice sheets and more. On the other hand I was content just to get a dollar to actually stay in my hands. If I wasn’t robbing Peter to pay Paul I tried to keep a dollar to eat.
She bought about three new sets of sheets. She did offer to buy me a nice set. I declined. I didn’t want any handouts, let alone expensive, soft, comfortable what I may fall in love with sheets. I asked her if she would bring me to the dollar store so I could get some new sheets. She scoffed at my choice of a plain, dusty colored set. I knew that I had a boring set of sheets but I was happy that they were clean.
When we got home she surprised me and gave me a set out of her three new sheets she just bought. I really didn’t want them but decided that I would try them out anyway. She made them sound so good.
I slept on the new 500 count sheets for a week. During that time I slid off the bed, had to adjust the sheets every morning, which I hated. Pulling and tugging on the corners every time I woke up to keep them neat and crisp. The final day on the sheets I washed them and gave them back to her with thanks. She said that I was missing out on great sleep without such splendid sheets. Now, if you know my mom, you know that she can sell anything and she almost had me thinking that I was missing out on something great.
I surveyed my friends and asked them what they sleep on. A lot of them, mainly recent college grads said that they buy “good” sheets. Then I began to think that I was alone with a knack for cheap sheets.
The next trip to the store I fell in with Momma and ended up splurging two high-end sets of sheets. I slept on them and hated them both. Again, I gave them away.
That brings me to now, the girl with one set of sheets. I kept a set that my aunt gave me from awhile back. They look like the sun and match my seafoam green colored walls. My room is decorated to give off an Asian inspired, calming effect and the colors help. That’s how I ended up with the soft banana sheets against the sea walls. I would take that one set sheets and wash and put them right back on the bed for the weeks.
Last week I caught a horrible cold and knew that I was dirty with cold germs and so were my lone, faithful banana sheets. Sense would tell you that as I battled a cold I couldn’t just quickly wash the sheets, dry them and have them back on the bed, considering I spent most of my time in the bed. I couldn’t do both. My proud sheets held me down as my temperature hovered around 100. They looked as if they shown more brightly as its master lay in a slumber. Until I woke up yesterday evening with enough strength, I didn’t say it but I knew I needed clean sheets in order to get better sooner. I had no spare. I dragged myself up and stripped my bed. I lied to myself and said I could get my favorite sheets into the washer and dryer. I lacked clear sense. My body said different. I hit the bed with a cotton mattress cover and three comforters. I knew I should be ashamed. My sheets lay in a crumpled pile in the clothes hamper looking at me like, “What have you done?”
I slept that night. In the coldest winter ever. I left my sheets, thinking that I could do without them. I woke with a goal to buy a new set of cheap sheets. I couldn’t figure out why I needed them. I made it to Wal-Mart and bought a clearance set of green plaid sheets to bounce off my green walls and figured I’d be much warmer tonight.
I then called up to ask one of my friends, “Friend, why is it that a sheet with three blankets can keep you warmer than just three blankets? When we all know that the sheet is thinner, more flimsier and lighter than the blankets.”
I wanted to know, I needed to know.
Friend responded, “It’s a tighter weave.”
That’s how I know I froze.
I slept under two blankets, swath like a newborn, yet I shivered. Sad little shivers prickled off my body from under my pajamas.
The night before I stripped my bed of the sheet, fitted sheet, and pillowcases. I figured I could do without them just for the night. I didn’t feel like washing my only set. After a horrible bout with a cold I didn’t have the energy.
I’d have to take you back about three months ago to tell you how I ended up with one set of sheets.
It came from a difference with mother. She insisted that I get 500 count sheets and nothing less. I walked the aisles of the pricey department store for sheets and watched her as she stocked piled up on a cache of fresh sheets.
“What’s the point?” I asked.
“Ohhh baby, you’re going to see once you lay on these sheets. These are luxurious and not scratchy like the ones you buy,” she responded in somewhat of a slight snobbish air or one accustomed to finer things in life.
I sighed. On her salary she could afford the nice sheets and more. On the other hand I was content just to get a dollar to actually stay in my hands. If I wasn’t robbing Peter to pay Paul I tried to keep a dollar to eat.
She bought about three new sets of sheets. She did offer to buy me a nice set. I declined. I didn’t want any handouts, let alone expensive, soft, comfortable what I may fall in love with sheets. I asked her if she would bring me to the dollar store so I could get some new sheets. She scoffed at my choice of a plain, dusty colored set. I knew that I had a boring set of sheets but I was happy that they were clean.
When we got home she surprised me and gave me a set out of her three new sheets she just bought. I really didn’t want them but decided that I would try them out anyway. She made them sound so good.
I slept on the new 500 count sheets for a week. During that time I slid off the bed, had to adjust the sheets every morning, which I hated. Pulling and tugging on the corners every time I woke up to keep them neat and crisp. The final day on the sheets I washed them and gave them back to her with thanks. She said that I was missing out on great sleep without such splendid sheets. Now, if you know my mom, you know that she can sell anything and she almost had me thinking that I was missing out on something great.
I surveyed my friends and asked them what they sleep on. A lot of them, mainly recent college grads said that they buy “good” sheets. Then I began to think that I was alone with a knack for cheap sheets.
The next trip to the store I fell in with Momma and ended up splurging two high-end sets of sheets. I slept on them and hated them both. Again, I gave them away.
That brings me to now, the girl with one set of sheets. I kept a set that my aunt gave me from awhile back. They look like the sun and match my seafoam green colored walls. My room is decorated to give off an Asian inspired, calming effect and the colors help. That’s how I ended up with the soft banana sheets against the sea walls. I would take that one set sheets and wash and put them right back on the bed for the weeks.
Last week I caught a horrible cold and knew that I was dirty with cold germs and so were my lone, faithful banana sheets. Sense would tell you that as I battled a cold I couldn’t just quickly wash the sheets, dry them and have them back on the bed, considering I spent most of my time in the bed. I couldn’t do both. My proud sheets held me down as my temperature hovered around 100. They looked as if they shown more brightly as its master lay in a slumber. Until I woke up yesterday evening with enough strength, I didn’t say it but I knew I needed clean sheets in order to get better sooner. I had no spare. I dragged myself up and stripped my bed. I lied to myself and said I could get my favorite sheets into the washer and dryer. I lacked clear sense. My body said different. I hit the bed with a cotton mattress cover and three comforters. I knew I should be ashamed. My sheets lay in a crumpled pile in the clothes hamper looking at me like, “What have you done?”
I slept that night. In the coldest winter ever. I left my sheets, thinking that I could do without them. I woke with a goal to buy a new set of cheap sheets. I couldn’t figure out why I needed them. I made it to Wal-Mart and bought a clearance set of green plaid sheets to bounce off my green walls and figured I’d be much warmer tonight.
I then called up to ask one of my friends, “Friend, why is it that a sheet with three blankets can keep you warmer than just three blankets? When we all know that the sheet is thinner, more flimsier and lighter than the blankets.”
I wanted to know, I needed to know.
Friend responded, “It’s a tighter weave.”
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
HIStory
My cousin called me last night and said that I must have written a book about Obama by now. I laughed. I didn’t have much to say to her. I couldn’t watch the election because I was so anxious. When I found out I sat for hours in awe and its still taking me awhile to believe it. I came up with a few things to write though.
Here are my thoughts:
I’m very disappointed in Louisiana. I think the numbers were like 60-40. At any rate La. had the most numbers for he-who-must-not-be-named.
Must we lead all 50 states in the worst of everything: education, health care, jobs, etc.
I just wish that once we can be on the same page as the rest of the country. Our streets were empty last night, while in cities like New York, Chicago (of course), Atlanta and L.A. there were celebrations in the streets.
My heart swelled with pride when Michelle was announced as the First Lady.
I also smiled at the thought of little Malia and Sasha running around the White House. I figured someone must have been backstage wiping their tears because it took them so long to come out on stage. Everyone looked fresh.
I wish Toot could have lived another day. But it was not in His will, therefore I understand.
I loved my girl Tillery’s note, “11/4/08”. She squeezed it in right at 11:50p.m. lol
Obama said he was going to build a basketball court in the basement of the White House. Cool. LOL
From my travels this summer I realize that the world supported Obama. People from different nations kept telling me to vote Obama.
I watched CNN to see people in other countries waving USA flags. WOW!
For the 1st time in my life I’m finally proud to be an American. An inspired American.
We Did it! Change!
Here are my thoughts:
I’m very disappointed in Louisiana. I think the numbers were like 60-40. At any rate La. had the most numbers for he-who-must-not-be-named.
Must we lead all 50 states in the worst of everything: education, health care, jobs, etc.
I just wish that once we can be on the same page as the rest of the country. Our streets were empty last night, while in cities like New York, Chicago (of course), Atlanta and L.A. there were celebrations in the streets.
My heart swelled with pride when Michelle was announced as the First Lady.
I also smiled at the thought of little Malia and Sasha running around the White House. I figured someone must have been backstage wiping their tears because it took them so long to come out on stage. Everyone looked fresh.
I wish Toot could have lived another day. But it was not in His will, therefore I understand.
I loved my girl Tillery’s note, “11/4/08”. She squeezed it in right at 11:50p.m. lol
Obama said he was going to build a basketball court in the basement of the White House. Cool. LOL
From my travels this summer I realize that the world supported Obama. People from different nations kept telling me to vote Obama.
I watched CNN to see people in other countries waving USA flags. WOW!
For the 1st time in my life I’m finally proud to be an American. An inspired American.
We Did it! Change!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Ok. Ok. I did it!
This is part two of “Shopping for…. Gasp. Don’t Say It…”
I finally got my bookshelves and I’m so excited. I’ve been searching for a month. I wanted straight shelves to hang on the walls but that idea did not work out because my carpenter bailed out on me. But I won’t talk about him because he vowed to buy a copy of my book. I’ll talk about him later.
Here’s a sneak peak of Crumb… Oh no, you thought I was going to post a chapter or something? No. Wait. Here are the shelves or bookcase. Yeah, that's better.
I finally got my bookshelves and I’m so excited. I’ve been searching for a month. I wanted straight shelves to hang on the walls but that idea did not work out because my carpenter bailed out on me. But I won’t talk about him because he vowed to buy a copy of my book. I’ll talk about him later.
Here’s a sneak peak of Crumb… Oh no, you thought I was going to post a chapter or something? No. Wait. Here are the shelves or bookcase. Yeah, that's better.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Little Bit
All I have are a few things to say:
It’s hard work trying to create a book.
I’m a hustler.
Ya’ll know it’s coming out December something.
Bear with me.
I’m going on a new adventure in New Orleans this weekend to bring you guys fresh blogs. (The people are going to take care of me 8~)
I’m still upset the Saints lost.
That’s all I got to say.
It’s hard work trying to create a book.
I’m a hustler.
Ya’ll know it’s coming out December something.
Bear with me.
I’m going on a new adventure in New Orleans this weekend to bring you guys fresh blogs. (The people are going to take care of me 8~)
I’m still upset the Saints lost.
That’s all I got to say.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Yap, Yap, Yap, Talk It Up!
B iz like a flower, growing.
In the past few hours I’ve learned a lot of important lessons.
Numeral Uno: Being poor makes you smarter.
Numeral Deuce: Talk for networking and saving everything.
I’ve been sitting in my p.j.s on the corner of my driveway learning.
I’ve figured out that when you are poor you have to be smart in order not to be poor.
It’s easy to get money but its hard work to keep money.
Like everyone else, I too sometimes wish that my parents were rich so I can be an airhead. I’d walk around just doing dumb things just because I can afford to do dumb things. Poor people can’t afford to do dumb things.
Yet, I did some dumb things.
For the past few months I’ve been paying over $190 on health insurance out of my own pocket. I had a real job that provided extra health insurance. Many people told me to drop the plan I had on my own. I refused because I knew my real job wasn’t stable for my future. I figured if I didn’t sign on for next year with the job, at least I can still have my health insurance. It was a half-way great idea.
Today, I have no job but I have health insurance. Yet, sitting on my corner in my p.j.s haven’t brought me a lot of money, so I had to figure out how to keep the health insurance. I just refused to sit in the charity line for health. I have been there. I have waited hours to see the free doctor. Only to be called thinking I’d see the doctor but I had to sit behind lonely walls to wait some more for the doctor to come see me. When you get free health care, I’ve learned that nothing’s free. You pay for that with your time. I’m tried. I don’t want to be common. Yet, without a job I still needed to find the extra 200 bucks to pay for my insurance. I took to using my iPhone. I figured that I could make million dollar deals from that phone. I just needed to be creative or listen.
After about an hour of conversation with my provider, I found an inexpensive plan, that gave me the same services, just written up differently.
I’m now paying half of what I paid. I feel better about the whole health insurance situation. This is what I learned.
I can pay a lesser amount, but just pay a little more when I go to the doctor. And that’s it!! No more, no bills no nothing.
When you’re rich you’re comfortable. I don’t want anyone to fall into the things I’ve did. I made a lot of money.
My friends will tell you, I’d buy any kind of exclusive shoes I wanted, clothes I wanted, go anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted. It was like, hey Brandi you want to go here?
“Yeah, book me a plane ticket and I’m on the way. Book that five-star hotel too while you’re at it.”
I was on the road. I didn’t care about reading the fine lines. I paid that money for health insurance because I didn’t have time to hear what the providers had to tell me. I figured hey, what’s an extra 100. This is just something small but I’m glad I made it through.
Young, dumb, rich and stupid. In college things came to me and I made something. No matter how much money you have, always remember it’s not what you get, it’s how much you keep. Now, as I sit in my p.j.s on my corner I’ve learned how to hustle again.
I can take nothing and make something.
Its not what you know, it’s who you know.
With a little phone conversation, I became a few dollars richer, just like that. I also got a new writing job. That’s detailed below.
Oh you guys, I have a list of things I’m absolutely loving right now.
1. T.I.’s new CD “Paper Trail”
2. James Morrison’s new CD, “Songs for You, Truths for Me”
3. Robin Thicke’s new CD, “Something Else”
4. The fact that the sequel to the Coldest Winter Ever is coming out in November
5. Progress on my own book, Crumb Snatchers. It's coming along great!
6. PERCEPTION
7. Chattting with Karrine Steffans
8. Learning Sales and Advertising
9. Your Facebook Updates
10. Baby pictures and Albus Dumbledore
About that new job, I’m a writer for www.emediabr.com.
Fred let’s me write feature stories. So check them out, I’ll let you know when they post. I just wrote one on The Joan, owner of Mo Hair, a hair salon. She’s talking about owning a business and keeping it. It’s a great piece! Check It Out!
In the past few hours I’ve learned a lot of important lessons.
Numeral Uno: Being poor makes you smarter.
Numeral Deuce: Talk for networking and saving everything.
I’ve been sitting in my p.j.s on the corner of my driveway learning.
I’ve figured out that when you are poor you have to be smart in order not to be poor.
It’s easy to get money but its hard work to keep money.
Like everyone else, I too sometimes wish that my parents were rich so I can be an airhead. I’d walk around just doing dumb things just because I can afford to do dumb things. Poor people can’t afford to do dumb things.
Yet, I did some dumb things.
For the past few months I’ve been paying over $190 on health insurance out of my own pocket. I had a real job that provided extra health insurance. Many people told me to drop the plan I had on my own. I refused because I knew my real job wasn’t stable for my future. I figured if I didn’t sign on for next year with the job, at least I can still have my health insurance. It was a half-way great idea.
Today, I have no job but I have health insurance. Yet, sitting on my corner in my p.j.s haven’t brought me a lot of money, so I had to figure out how to keep the health insurance. I just refused to sit in the charity line for health. I have been there. I have waited hours to see the free doctor. Only to be called thinking I’d see the doctor but I had to sit behind lonely walls to wait some more for the doctor to come see me. When you get free health care, I’ve learned that nothing’s free. You pay for that with your time. I’m tried. I don’t want to be common. Yet, without a job I still needed to find the extra 200 bucks to pay for my insurance. I took to using my iPhone. I figured that I could make million dollar deals from that phone. I just needed to be creative or listen.
After about an hour of conversation with my provider, I found an inexpensive plan, that gave me the same services, just written up differently.
I’m now paying half of what I paid. I feel better about the whole health insurance situation. This is what I learned.
I can pay a lesser amount, but just pay a little more when I go to the doctor. And that’s it!! No more, no bills no nothing.
When you’re rich you’re comfortable. I don’t want anyone to fall into the things I’ve did. I made a lot of money.
My friends will tell you, I’d buy any kind of exclusive shoes I wanted, clothes I wanted, go anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted. It was like, hey Brandi you want to go here?
“Yeah, book me a plane ticket and I’m on the way. Book that five-star hotel too while you’re at it.”
I was on the road. I didn’t care about reading the fine lines. I paid that money for health insurance because I didn’t have time to hear what the providers had to tell me. I figured hey, what’s an extra 100. This is just something small but I’m glad I made it through.
Young, dumb, rich and stupid. In college things came to me and I made something. No matter how much money you have, always remember it’s not what you get, it’s how much you keep. Now, as I sit in my p.j.s on my corner I’ve learned how to hustle again.
I can take nothing and make something.
Its not what you know, it’s who you know.
With a little phone conversation, I became a few dollars richer, just like that. I also got a new writing job. That’s detailed below.
Oh you guys, I have a list of things I’m absolutely loving right now.
1. T.I.’s new CD “Paper Trail”
2. James Morrison’s new CD, “Songs for You, Truths for Me”
3. Robin Thicke’s new CD, “Something Else”
4. The fact that the sequel to the Coldest Winter Ever is coming out in November
5. Progress on my own book, Crumb Snatchers. It's coming along great!
6. PERCEPTION
7. Chattting with Karrine Steffans
8. Learning Sales and Advertising
9. Your Facebook Updates
10. Baby pictures and Albus Dumbledore
About that new job, I’m a writer for www.emediabr.com.
Fred let’s me write feature stories. So check them out, I’ll let you know when they post. I just wrote one on The Joan, owner of Mo Hair, a hair salon. She’s talking about owning a business and keeping it. It’s a great piece! Check It Out!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Don't Worry Be Happy
I wrote a song.
La. La. La. Laaaaaa…..
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
The nation is falling,
And Bush will not bail us out,
While McCain is balling,
Obama will hear us out,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
La. La. La. Laaaaa….
If anyone wants to co-write the song, feel free to add on. And don’t complain because I never said I was poetic.
But you know what, I once heard a guy say that money is the root of all evil. That may have been the Temptations. Then I heard a smart guy come along and say, “The lack of money is the root of all evil (Rich Dad, Poor Dad).”
I agree with the latter. Either way, I guess we will find out.
La. La. La. Laaaaaa…..
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
The nation is falling,
And Bush will not bail us out,
While McCain is balling,
Obama will hear us out,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
La. La. La. Laaaaa….
If anyone wants to co-write the song, feel free to add on. And don’t complain because I never said I was poetic.
But you know what, I once heard a guy say that money is the root of all evil. That may have been the Temptations. Then I heard a smart guy come along and say, “The lack of money is the root of all evil (Rich Dad, Poor Dad).”
I agree with the latter. Either way, I guess we will find out.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Lost
Arthritis crippled her hands a few years back. It forced her to keep them in a permanent balled up, crooked position. When she said she had problems with the condition, I figured that she had to be in real bad pain. I felt for her. I’d want her to quickly take a Tylenol.
Her hands, dark and aged, they held a many of her babies and wiped a many of counters.
She’d look at you with her brown eyes and you could see a caring soul. At home she would feed anybody passing.
We would sit in church every Sunday, side by side. She would make a special spot for me to sit underneath her as if I were her own daughter. Matter of fact, I did move her own child to the pew in front of us. As if I knew how to love her just right too.
She had a warm heart and as kind. When the collection plate came around she would always reach her hands into her purse and give me money.
“Here Bran, some money for the collection plate and some money for you. God put it on my mind to give this to you,” she’d say in a low voice so others around us wouldn’t hear that she was extra sweet to me. Folk could get jealous, in church too, let me tell you.
“Thank you, kindly,” I would return in a whisper. The choir sang in the background and people got up to put money in the basket. I put my money up and walked back to my seat. I’d smile at her and she’d just nod her head. I knew to further hush because, like I said, we didn’t want anyone to know I had extra money.
I’d take my money and buy some much needed stuff for my room at school.
She came to church with treats like that for me all the time.
Now, you know a woman loves you when she wakes up with you on her mind. And church started early. That old lady loved me from a baby. I loved her too.
I did whatever she said to do, without ever a sass word. We sat in the same spot every Sunday, our meeting spot for worship and catching up on each other.
I’ll look out for her boy like I said I would.
Because she died yesterday. The news spread quickly around town. Everybody knew her. Tommorrow’s Sunday.
I’ll go to church and sit in our same spot. They say you never know what you got till it’s gone, but I knew what I had. Yes sir, I knew.
I had A…um…let me see, how can I say it? You know you read up top, That real love’s gone.
For Barbara.
Her hands, dark and aged, they held a many of her babies and wiped a many of counters.
She’d look at you with her brown eyes and you could see a caring soul. At home she would feed anybody passing.
We would sit in church every Sunday, side by side. She would make a special spot for me to sit underneath her as if I were her own daughter. Matter of fact, I did move her own child to the pew in front of us. As if I knew how to love her just right too.
She had a warm heart and as kind. When the collection plate came around she would always reach her hands into her purse and give me money.
“Here Bran, some money for the collection plate and some money for you. God put it on my mind to give this to you,” she’d say in a low voice so others around us wouldn’t hear that she was extra sweet to me. Folk could get jealous, in church too, let me tell you.
“Thank you, kindly,” I would return in a whisper. The choir sang in the background and people got up to put money in the basket. I put my money up and walked back to my seat. I’d smile at her and she’d just nod her head. I knew to further hush because, like I said, we didn’t want anyone to know I had extra money.
I’d take my money and buy some much needed stuff for my room at school.
She came to church with treats like that for me all the time.
Now, you know a woman loves you when she wakes up with you on her mind. And church started early. That old lady loved me from a baby. I loved her too.
I did whatever she said to do, without ever a sass word. We sat in the same spot every Sunday, our meeting spot for worship and catching up on each other.
I’ll look out for her boy like I said I would.
Because she died yesterday. The news spread quickly around town. Everybody knew her. Tommorrow’s Sunday.
I’ll go to church and sit in our same spot. They say you never know what you got till it’s gone, but I knew what I had. Yes sir, I knew.
I had A…um…let me see, how can I say it? You know you read up top, That real love’s gone.
For Barbara.
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