Damn I'm Old

Some days are worth it.
Some days the kids we influence seem to gain a bit more understanding, a bit more confidence, maybe even a bit more hope.

For the past three weeks I've taken a break from being the "Uncle Bernie" to a couple of young cousins to see how they would translate what I've taught them to their old environments.
One cousin lost his job, another got suspended from school for fighting, and a third just disappeared.
It seems that when they return to the ghetto they again begin to act ghetto.
But what could be the problem?

Whether good or bad - kids believe what they are told.
I've read stories of blessings and curses in Biblical literature and never understood whether they had any effect on ones life.
But thinking back - I've always received blessings from the people I respected.

Back in the day, a kid could hang out at the local pool hall or bar and enjoy a soda.
On ones birthday he may have even be allowed to sit at the bar with the men.
On one such evening, a known dealer pulled a young dude aside to have a conversation.
The dealer explained that he liked the way the young dude handled those around him because he respected everyone.
When the young guy corrected his elder by pointing out that he didn't respect everyone but that he only treated everyone with respect, the dealer laughed and agreed and bought the youngun' another Root Beer.
Later in the conversation - the dealer gave what seemed to be his blessing to the young dude.
"You're lucky. Those who can get you won't - and those who can't... can't", the dealer told the kid.
I've always remembered those words.
I think it made me more sure of myself in any situation.
I could always deal with the hood without the fear generally associated with being a non-gangsta'.
I knew that I would always be a'ight.
Later in life - I would always receive assistance from someone (or those in their family, clique or crew) I'd unintentionally helped or shown kindness to.
Odd - it's as though I had received some sort of ghetto blessing from one of it's King Makers.

"You ain't shit", "You can't do shit." or "You ain't never gonna' be shit." are the most common ghetto curses uttered today.
(Back to the problems with my young cousins.)
As I'd had a chance to look at some jobs people had been bugging me to do - I decided to do a little work and use the jobs as teachable moments.

One project was a carport.
The job paid $4000 to attach a structure to a home on an existing slab.
The materials only cost $1400 and the permits were already in order.
But I needed workers.
Two young cousins could help and they had a friend who was tired of sitting at home.
When I went to pick up the kid, "He can't do shit.", his mother said.
"That's alright ma'am, I'll teach him", I said.
"He's a dummy, he don't know nothin'.", she'd retort.
"But can he come?", I'd asked.
"I don't care...", she said.
(But this was the problem - by always saying that she 'didn't care' the kid learned that she (nor his absentee father) really didn't care.)

The job was simple and quick.
In two working days the structure was done and had passed all inspections.
The kids had learned how to mix concrete, read a tape measure, build for structural support, and a host of other boring stuff.
(The funniest thing is watching wanna'-be gangsta's crab walking on a roof top or holding on to scaffolding for dear life.)
I was surprised that many teen age boys had never used power tools in their lives.

I know a little math.
After the job was done each of the three boys were handed two fresh hundred dollar bills.
The kid I'd never met was especially pleased with his pay.
Well... until he saw my $4000 check.

"You make $4000 every two days", he asked.
But I had to explain to him that the check was for gross pay.
That I had to subtract; $1400 for materials, $600 for labor and that I'd have to pay taxes on what was earned.
"But still... $2000 for two days?!", he said.
But then I had to explain that It had really taken me another half day to do all the paperwork, and another half day to purchase supplies.
"Okay... $2000 for three days?!", he said.
"Well... yeah... . But all jobs aren't this easy and some don't pay as well as others.", I'd say.
"Why do they pay you so much?" he asked.
Seeing the opportunity to teach the kid something, "Because I know a little math.", I said.

I then began to explain how we'd used simple geometry in finding the lengths and angles of the compound mitre cuts on the rafters needed to seamlessly incorporate the addition to the existing structure.
I'd explained that simple arithmetic was needed to figure out the costs and profits of the job.
I'd then explained that this was small time, that even more money could be made if he takes algebra or trigonometry and becomes an engineer.
"I like math." he said.
"Then do as well as you can in it.", I said, "And use whatever you learn in any class to do whatever you want to do."

It's cool to be "Cool".
I'm not one who believes in doing things to impress kids.
But this kid had never met me.
This kid had a million questions.
This kid was impressed that I knew a lot of women from the clubs I'd run.
(Actually, he thought that running or owning clubs was pretty cool in itself.)
This kid was impressed that I didn't speak in Ebonics and he would stop to ask what words meant.
This kid was impressed that I could go from the nicer areas to the hood and be comfortable in each.
This kid was impressed that I could help my young cousins with any sport.
This kid was impressed that I could draw and paint a graffiti-inspired mural on my cousin's bedroom wall.
This kid was impressed that I didn't seem to limit myself to what others said I should know or do.
This kid was impressed that I looked younger and was in better shape than his father.

"But you have money.", the kid finally said.
"Money is incidental. Money only matters to those who need it and don't have it.", I said.
But he had been taught the Scarface (Money, respect, women) philosophy of money.
I then pointed out that it had taken him two days to get to "money".
That he respected ability, knowledge or how I treated others before he even got to "money".
That he was more interested in many many things and that money was almost an afterthought.
After thinking about it, "But that stuff is better than money.", he said.
"Exactly", I said, "But you need money to survive.".

I'm old.
Someone once said that when one needs to use all they've ever learned that person is exactly where he needs to be.
I hate this town.
I thought I'd take the money and run or else stay here, sit back and become a country squire.
But something keeps happening along the way.
It seems that I keep meeting people who need this or that.
I keep having to do things which I'd prefer not to have to do.
I don't like crowds for long periods of time - which I have to be around to run a club.
I hate doing construction - but many people seem to need work done on their homes.
I'm sick of the hood - but I keep meeting people who need help getting out or who are trying to do the best with what they have.
I thought retirement was supposed to be easy?

I think I strained a rib muscle while hauling materials up to the rooftop.
I'm not telling the boys this, they're still impressed that I could carry more than them over a longer period of time.
They're still amazed that they were in good shape if taking a picture but in terrible shape if one wanted to do actual work.
They're still impressed that they had to ice sore muscles while I was out to dinner.
But today my hamstrings are killing me.
My delts and traps are swollen.
My calves are on fire.
Yeah... I'm old - but these kids will never know it.