| It Has Been A Rough Year |
I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome. I wish ...
| The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins |
The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.
http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml
Browse for more stories
YVONNE's Story > Chapters > I CANNOT BELIEVE HER!
| Date Range: 01/01/1978 To 01/31/1984 ||
|| Comments: ||
|| Views: 7,475 |
| Attachments: No |
| | JHS 43, that was the school right in the middle of my neighborhood. When I was in elementary school I used to pass by 43 to get to my building and look in awe at all the "grown" kids. I wanted to be like them, well, some of them. I wanted to be popular and hang out with cool people. I always remembered smelling their lunch on half days of school and wishing our lil elementary school served whatever the hell 43 was serving. It seemed as if the who's-who of harlem went to 43. You weren't fly until you went to 43. All the bad boys and fly girls in Harlem went to 43. There were so many stories about that school that one would think you needed a membership card to get the hell in. But you didn't. Kids came from all over , even as far away as the Bronx just to go to 43. They wore their gym shirts proud as hell because it had the letters JHS and numbers 43 right on the front. If anyone saw you with that shirt on you got respeeeeect on the spot. You coulda looked like pee-wee mutha f'kin herman and you still woulda gotten respect. LOL! That school was notorious for fights as well. Not within the school, from outside schools coming trying to rep themselves as the best. It just seemed as if that school had all the future notorious criminals all in one place. And then, there was MR. MARINOS. Mr. Marinos was a mean son of a bit**. He did not play NO SHIT! That mutha f'ker was feared by everyone including the dust bunnies under the tables and chairs! LOL! Nobody f'ked with him. I had heard many stories of Mr. Marinos chasing the baddest of the bad down the hallways and kicking their asses all up and down 43! I surely didn't want to get into a scuffle with his ass. So in June of 1978 if my memory serves me right, I graduated from elementary school and attended JHS 43 in September. Most of my friends from the neighborhood went there. Not "Ree" and "tee" though. They were 1 and 2 years behind me in school now. Keep in mind I got skipped from the 4th grade to the 6th grade. That Summer was the bomb! I felt some what older for some reason. (considering my past I guess I should have.) I felt I had to "act" older as well. After all, I was going to 40 mutha f'kin 3! Every time there was a discussion about which school anyone was going to , those of us who were going to 43 would say that number in such a proud showing off kinda way. There were many kids going to Saint Josephs which was a Catholic school. We heard about the Catholic school girls as well. I didn't want to go there and have the whole block accusing me of being fast. I always wondered why those Catholic schools allowed the girls to wear such short ass skirts. Add them long as socks and you got a burlesque show going on. Anyway, the Summer went by real fast. We swam at 43 pool and hung out in the swing park til summers end. I remember going school shopping with my grandmother and hoping and praying she didn't buy me no wack ass clothes. We shopped on 125th street. My Grandmother had the f'kin nerve to get mad at me because I had gotten taller so she had to start paying for me on the bus ride to 125th St. Ain't that some shit? She was even more pissed that my feet had grown. She cursed me OUT in Buster Browns because my feet were bigger. People were looking at her like she was crazy. What she shoulda did was wrap my damn feet like the chinese back in the day and we wouldn't have had a problem! LOL! Anyhooooo, everyone was wearing Lee's and adidas. I prayed my ass off that I too would get some. Sure enough I got some. THANKYOU JESUS! They were cheaper than Buster Browns so my Grandmother was happy too. There were plenty of stores on 125th street where we shoppped that offered the same clothes all competing and lowering their prices to draw you in. Alot of parents switched tags as well. I used to watch their sneaky asses. LOL! My Grandmother only did that in the supermarket with eggs. Damn they had to be 50 cents back then. We shopped for everything on 125th. She would embarrass us and pick up underwear and make us stand still while she fit them up on our hips and behinds in front of everyone. Ooooh I would be embarrassed as hell! But when you looked around the store there were plenty of kids with that same embarrassed look on their faces because their parents were doing the same damn underwear fitting to them. We all looked at each other with the same "I don't believe this shit" look on our faces. Whats even worse was when the white kids would be in the store and they would be acting up with their parents and as soon as my Grandmother would see that shit she would grab us, yell at us and pop the shit outta us because of what another child was doing, and we weren't even doing shit but standing there. That was a weekly event on 125th Street in Harlem. Back then I always wondered if white kids got spanked . I surmised that If they did , they got it at home and not in public like we always did. Try that shit today and your parents would be tased and locked the f'k up! Now, Summer is over, school is about to begin and I'm SCARED AS HELL! How in the hell did I go from being excited to being scared? What was that shit about? Maybe it was just nerves. My Grandmother didn't know how to do our hair so she relied on some of our older cousins to do it for her. But they could hardly be found. We had an Aunt visit us from the South and she immediately said to put a jerry curl in our hair. OH-HELL-TO-THE-NO! We teased the shit out of kids who had jerry curls. How in the hell were we gonna show up in school with that dripping wet mess in our hair. I took my allowance that I saved up all summer long and ran to Woolworths. I purchased a revlon relaxer and snuck it back into the house. My sister was in the kitchen crying her eyes out because they had already begun putting in that damn jerry curl in her hair. I went into the bathroom, opened that box and followed them directions as is my life depended on it! What?! There was no mutha f'kin way I was letting them put that shit in my hair. I woulda ran to the police station, I kid you not! Just so yall can get the visual, my hair was thick and long like the cast in Oprahs movie BELOVED. Can yall imagine me walking down the halls in that school dripping that wet shit all over those newly polished floors causing them kids to slip and slide and laugh at me? OH HELLLLLLL NOOOOOO! And you know my pillows and the backs of any chairs I sat in would be f'ed up right? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no ,no! After I washed that relaxer out of my hair I wrapped a towel on my head, went into my room and started praying. I was praying because I knew I was going to get an ass whipping for relaxing my hair. I didn't even care. "F" that , I welcomed that ass whipping. When it was my turn to go into the kitchen my sister came into the room with her eyes all swollen from crying and said "it's your turn". I looked at her hair and bugged OUT! She didn't have hair like I did. Hers was real short and picky. That jerry curl shriveled her hair up even more. All she had were these lil tight wet curls on her head. Her edges were damn near balled so she looked crazy as hell. I was glaaaaad I relaxed my hair. Whew, it was just in the nick of time too! I went into the kitchen and sat in that chair. My Aunt looked at me in a funny way and ripped that towel off my head (I damn near had whip-lash), My beautiful, long ,thick ,just relaxed hair fell down my back and hung there like WHAT BITCHES! LOL! OOOOh if yall could have been flys on the wall all of your suction cups would have failed seeing the looks and hearing the gasps coming from my Grandmother and my aunt. I got the shit beat outta me that day. But I didn't care. Once my Grandmother calmed down and found out that I was the one who actually did my own hair she had the nerve to offer my services to her friends to do their kids and grandkids hair. Can yall believe that shit? So what in the hell was the ass whipping for? Yall know my sister was maaaaaad. She had to go to school with that jerry curl. I can't even say the word without frowning my damn face. Its funny now of course but back then that shit wasn't funny at all! Well the first day of school arrived and my nervousness disappeared. 43 was the bomb. Anybody who was anybody was there. So was Mr. Marinos. He was loud and wore thick ass binoculars for glasses. He was built too, like a body builder. Many afternoons we would hear him booking down the hallway chasing some poor soul. We never got up from our seats to look. The teachers back then wasn't having that shit. You stayed focused and kept your attention on that blackboard. Many of the guys in 43 were criminals. One by one they got shot up and killed. Everytime you looked someone was getting shot. If not back then, then later on in their lives. I went to many funerals back then. Back to school....The first week of school went by real fast. During the second week I kept noticing a boy walking pass my homeroom everyday real slow looking at me. I knew he was one of those Dominican students who didn't know english because they were at the other end of the hall in the bi-lingual classes. We always laughed at the Dominican girls because they wore tube socks with heels. One day a friend of mine walked up to me and said there was a boy named "C" who liked me. I said "who"? When she showed him to me at lunch time I immediately recognized him as the boy who walked past my homeroom every morning staring at me. I was so glad to have a regular guy interested in me because for some unknown God-forsaken reason all the special-ed guys were liking me. What was that shit about? That shit made me mad as hell! Back then if you were in special-ed, it was because you were really retarded. They had tiny heads and looked strong for no damn reason. My friends laughed their asses off everytime I ran past the special-ed classes hoping they didn't spot me. (Maybe it was because I stood up for the underdogs. I hated seeing people getting picked on. I was always defending some nerd or unpopular person. I had kicked plenty of asses both male and female because of bullying. If anyone got bullied, they came straight to me for help.) Nowadays if you're in special-ed it's because of behavioral problems, fighting and shit. As soon me and "C" looked at each other something passed between us as soon as we made eye contact. My friend was hispanic and she introduced us. HE couldn't even speak english! How in the hell was I going to interrogate him if he couldn't even understand me? I said hi and he nodded his head. He used his hands and motioned "eating food" and pointed across the street to the store. I knew what that meant. So we went and had lunch. Using hand gestures and speaking slowly, we formed our own language. Do yall believe in love at first sight? Well you better because it happened to me. For the next 3 years we were an item. Of course nobody knew except "Ree" and "Tee". When school was out I'd sneak and visit him at City College which was right up the block from where we lived. We tongue kissed like nobodys business. City College was the honeycomb hideout for me and my select few friends and our boyfriends. We were all black and our boyfriends were all Dominican. We had so much fun up there. We didn't have to worry about nobody seeing us or getting caught. City College closed and we really used that place as a home away from home. They had a lil place downstairs called the lions den where we hung out. We all humped (dry humped) and kissed til our lips were sore. LOL! Until our senior year. We all agreed we would do it . Uh huh. I was scared as hell. I told him I was a virgin. In a way I was, despite what had happened to me when I was younger. One saturday night we went skating at a rink on 135th st behind my building. I was surprised my Grandmother even allowed me to go. On that night we knew something would happen. Maybe our hormones were just going crazy but the tension was in the air. We slipped out of that skating rink before the session was over and went to his house right around the corner. ( I met his sister and his Mother once. She kept trying to feed me. Thats how Latin women are. Food is always offered as a sign of friendship. When I got older and had my own apartment I had neighbors who always knocked on my door offering plates of delicious spanish dishes. I ate them all! Yes I did! Every last got damn morsel! LOL! )We kissed and tried to make love but...it wouldn't go in! LOL! He did other things that blew my mind. But the thing about it , he was gentle and he took his time. I had heard many friends tell stories of their older siblings and how they f'ed but this was different. Even my friends who were having sex told very different stories. This was different, I felt like I was in a fairytale. How could someone make you feel as light as a feather, as delicate as silk and loved beyond your thoughts? We finally made love one day late in the afternoon at his house. No one was there but us. We got in the shower first and he literally kissed me from head to toe. From head to toe! Latin lovers ain't no joke! LOL! Damn near everyday in the Summer of 1979 we were making love. Looking back I 'm shocked at how young I was but my maturity level was that of a grown woman. Hispanics start early with relationships so it was nothing to him. If my grandmother knew what I did every afternoon she would have had me exorcised and then sent downsouth or some shit. I wanted to marry him and have ALL his kids. In my senior year at JHS 43 I got pregnant. PREGNANT! Let me explain something to yall, getting pregnant at that age would have surely guaranteed me a spot in front of the guillatine had my Grandmother found out. I stressed so much about her finding out that I suffered a miscarriage. Before the miscarriage I told him and he was scared. Then he suggested marriage. WHAT? Was he on crack? That would have never happened as long as my Grandmother was breathing air. I wanted to soooo ,sooooo bad but I knew it would have never happened. After the miscarriage my friends older sister took me to the clinic where I had an exam and was given painkillers. I was so embarrassed. I was also given birthcontrol pills and condoms. I thought that everybody I passed in the hood had x-ray vision and could see right thru my purse. We chilled for a while with the love making and just did alot of heavy kissing and patting. We were terrified of going thru something like that again. We graduated from JHS 43 in June of 1981 and went to Brandeis HS. We started making love again but made sure we were careful. We went to the movies (our favorite movie was purple rain), went out to eat and hung out at our favorite place , City College. We remained a couple til he got deported back to the Dominican Republic in 1986. I was heart-broken and mad as hell. I couldn't believe it. I didn't see him again till 1990.