I remember when you were the man. Back in 1984 no one could tell you anything. When you came you live with us, I hardly knew you. All I knew was that you were my big brother and I had to love you. I remember you being funny, good looking, and a good dancer. I used to love listening to your records. You always had an eclectic music selection which inspired my own tastes in music. We listened to everything from Salsa to Kenny Rogers to Bee Gees and Santana.
Soon after you came to the states you started hanging out with boys around the way. I'm not sure how long it was before you tried cocaine, but I remember that it changed you. You always were dressed up and ready to party. Even though you were up to no good, you always made sure I did my home work. When you had money you'll buy us food and snacks. Another thing I vividly remember is you always had a good woman with you. They had money, cars, and homes. I don't know what you had that drove them crazy.
Not sure when you started smoking crack. I do know that the neighborhood changed during the crack era. It used to be safe. Your were a fixture on Merrimac and 14th. When you used to keep a flat top they called you Bart Simpson. Everyone knew you in the hood. I'm not sure if it was for being a junky or for being a good guy. Even though you were a fiend you still liked to help people and would never rob or steal. Instead you would treat our parents and your girlfriends like shit.
One day I was driving through Langley Park. I see a commotion. There were people everywhere. Apparently there was a car accident. I see people arguing pushing and shoving, and who do I see trying to mediate the situation? My big brother, the unofficial Mayor of Langley Park. Even when you were at the worst of you addiction you would give me your last dollar if I needed it.
I think you probably only tried heroin that one time. All I remember is being woken up to a bunch of noise. I peek through the crack in my door, and see you freaking out. All I remember is you crying and drooling and saying that you didn't want me to see you like that. Later you told me that you tried it and it messed you up back. Your friends dropped you off in front of the building. When you crawled up the stairs to our door you could only scratch the door like a dog. My mom heard something and went to see what it was and your were laying there a complete mess. Another time you took me to Sears to buy me an outfit. We couldn't find anything. We ended up in Langley Park because you wanted to smoke week. Almost sounds like a lie, but we couldn't find anyone to sell us weed. You did however run into one of your crack buddies, and he handed you a handful of crack rocks. Next thing I know we're in cab rushing home. No one was home. I went to the bathroom and you headed towards my bedroom. By the time I got out of the bathroom and went to my room, you were getting in. You had fashioned a crack pipe out of Pepsi can and was smoking it in my bedroom at my open window. I was like 14.
You were always such a likable person and super smart. One of the best carpenter's anyone had ever seen. You would take contracts to do jobs in the tens of thousands. The problem was you never had tools, because you had pawned your last set (even some that didn't belong to you, I remember going with dad to buy his tools and latter back from the pawn shop). You would get advances to buy tools materials and drugs. By the time you finished the job, you'd get a couple hundred bucks. Your craftsmanship was unmatched. If you would go work for a contractor. They would pay you 25 bucks an hour for your skill, and you could impress the hell out of them. Just to be let go weeks later when the drug test came back.
When you became a dad, you didn't even know. She was almost 3 when her mom brought her to meet us. The day your 3rd daughter was born, I found you sitting in your car in front of my building when I was walking home from school. I walked up to the window and you were wasted. Told me you had no money for gas to go see your baby. I had a credit card so we went. First you smoked another joint. We stopped for gas. I also told you to stop by Hallmark. I bought my niece balloons, a bear, and some toys. You also went by the liquor store, you need a beer for the road. Although you you couldn't keep a job and keep away from the drugs you tried to be a good father.
You have spoiled your daughters.When you had money you would give them anything they wanted. As they got older they learned from you that they could disrespect my parents. If they didn't get what they wanted, they would tell you, and you would fuss my parents out for it. One night they were spending the night with them. One of them was being a brat. My mom told her to go to bed, instead she calls you to complain. You show up at their house, high. I never got the full story of what happened next. You either shoved or hit my mother. Of course it was years before I heard the story. When I did I told my mom I was going to kill you. She made me promise not to do anything. As they got older you daughters continued to disregard my parents authority. One of them even stole 3 grand from our fathers house. I was not surprised that she then shrugged it off and said she gave to "someone" and never got it back. What I don't understand is why she was never reprimanded or you and her mother didn't find a way to pay him back.
Now your 40 something. You can't keep a job. Your brain is a barren wasteland. You claim to have cleaned up. I actually believe that you don't do drugs anymore. The drugs took your soul and made you a shell of a man. Your daughters are growing up without boundaries. They drink and smoke weed. They don't listen to you or anyone for that matter. They don't respect you and feel that you need to give them everything they want.
You once said that everything you are is our father's fault. I say he didn't give you the drugs or make you a fuck up. On the other hand, he has babied you for the past 40 odd years in the hope that you would change and get your shit together. With all this I don't resent or even hate you. I feel sorry for you. I think that you wasted what could have been a great life. You can blame your mom for giving you up. You can blame dad for letting get away with it. You are your own man and everything you got you brought upon yourself. At this point you will never reverse the damage you did to yourself. The only thing you can do to redeem yourself is toughen up, and lead your daughters in the right direction for your granddaughters sake.
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