My mind is flooded with stories of George Jr. (my father) and his, at times, sporadic behavior…most of which in hindsight could be deemed as classically hysterical . Now fortunately in the instance, rare in most cases, I did NOT receive a spanking for my habitual juvenile delinquent actions but I was however embarrassed for the first week of school.
The scene – it’s 1989, I’m 12 years old, the first day of school is 2 days away and the only thing I need to survive in life is a pair of British Knights sneakers…BKs for short. Editor’s Note: British Knight’s were the hottest shoe in the game from the late 80’s to the early 90’s. So if you are not of the appropriate age, you may be unable to grasp the full gravity of this recollection.
But there is a problem, Daddy isn’t buying no BK’s! He said you can get these “other” pair at a fraction of the cost that will perform adequately. The “other” ones he was referring to were called “ACs”. To put things into perspective, if BKs were the hottest thing out, then on the opposite end of the spectrum would be flip-flops and right after that would be ACs, followed by Jellies. Hot. Trash.
Ah-ha! I got it! Even at an early age, I was a criminal mastermind; formulating yet another fool proof plan. You see, my twin and I had a list of required school supplies going into the next year…and after all of the begging to not have to wear the shoes you can buy from the grocery store, this was my opening. My dad gave my sister and I enough money to get those supplies AND our shoes. But that contribution came with one warning “get what you are supposed to get, nothing else and bring me my change”. Ok. This is the plan I presented to my sis: Since we are in the same grade and mostly the same classes, we will just SHARE your school supplies, I will get the BKs and be fresher than a mutha#@$&*, while spending the exact same amount of money. Easy.
She agreed, I got the shoes, daddy DIDN’T know…life was good. I went home and cleaned up my room, spick and span…no way I could disrespect my BKs with a dirty room. Next, I laid out my outfit for the first day of school…meticulously placing each item on the floor with the appearance that I am wearing them, laying down. Of course the shoes were at the pants leg. Thinking to myself, “I am gonna KILL ‘EM tomorrow”. It’s about 930pm.
Now what I didn’t mention earlier is I TOLD my sister “Ebony, don’t give him the receipt. I don’t care if you lose it, trash it, burn it…just DON’T give him the receipt”! She gave it to him. “Georgggggggggge”, I hear him yell out…awakening me from my sleep. I acted like I didn’t hear him and closed my eyes, praying that he wouldn’t open up my bedroom door. He did not open my bedroom door, he KICKED OPEN my bedroom door. “You bought those BKs?!?!?!”, he said with a deranged, demonic look on his face with the voice to match. He looked down and saw my outfit on the ground and proceeded to whoop the sh** out of clothes and shoes. He jumped up and down on them and yelled at the cloths as if they were attached to my body. Left punch, right punch, leg drop, elbow drop…all the while I am in bed looking at him go bananas. Although our time together was short, I was already extremely attached to those BKs. I could feel their pain.
I had to wear my beat up summer shoes to school for the first week, completely destroying my street credibility. But after the first week, he gave me those BKs and said “Son, I didn’t want you to buy them, cause I had already gotten them for you”.
I love my dad. Every day is Father’s Day when you have that type of love and history.