The friend from Detriot

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic


A begging of my introspection series

Submitted: May 13, 2018

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Submitted: May 13, 2018

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This is called the friend from Detroit. Part1 of this series. Hope you enjoy

I was 22 and somehow under the false impression I was manning up in to adulthood starting a life on my own. I had been romaticsing about moving to Austin Texas for good! In hopes of a career in the plasterers union. A month prior to, I had completed a year and a half from Columbia Basin Job Corps.

November 2005 was my date of entry. It was a rainy Tuesday morning,nervous as all hell walking out the door,taking the cab ride to the Grey Hound sation. This was my first time being away from home and I was in for cultre shock. As I and the other young adults boarded the Grey Hound bus, to Moses Lake Washington. Just four hours east from Seattle and now we were entering a small hickish cow town, population of 15,000, with all the fixings to a stereotypical rural life. Ford F-350?s, Little Big town’s Boondocks on the radio and economics in agriculture, preceding a dead give away to nostrils hint hint reeked Po DunkI mean really what where the Odds? However the town had strips malls including the main biggest attraction every bodies favorite. Yeeeeup! WALL MART! But Before these necessities ever existed one could only assume undoubtedly, the inevitable. Perhaps a general store. The locals epitomized the vibe of “Ya wanna see ma shot gun?” and“ You ain’t from here are ya BOWY”? So formally I’d like to greet the readers with “Howdy” and ”He Haw”!

I took up Plastering as my vocational trade, and during my course in Job Corps, was Successful. Leaving with my high school completions and driver license were my biggest accomplishments. VAINGLORY! A big hi hearty fuck you to those who doubted me in life is how I felt.

It was mothers day week 2007. A friend of mine in the Cement trade was a week from completing. He called me around 6.pm on a Wednesday asking me a favor concerning a friend of his back in Seattle. Now, This friend of his lived in apartments not far from the area I stayed,needing a driver on Mothers day weekend. Understandingly so I agreed, knowing my friend from Job Corps wouldn’t be available. He told me a little bit about the guy gave me his name and number and ahead time told the the friend to be expecting my call. Now to the parties involved I will respectfully refer too the friend from Job Corps as David and the guy I was to be helping “Seattle Sam the T-shirt man”. O.k.

I dialed Sams phone number. “Eduardo” A stern voice with a jazzy tone answered the call with my name in the form of hello, WTF? After a bit of small talk and details of what Sams plans were for mothersday weekened he asked me to come to his a apartment the following day at 10:A.M. to which I agreed. “Sure.”

It was a bright Thursday morning outside the Gennessee. Newly renovated but nothing more the an upgraded version of the projects. Looking down the directory I seen Sams apartment pushing numbers 303, greeted with the echos of "Hello is this Ed?" I was buzzed in. This is where the story about the friend from Detroit Begins.

I had gotten off the elevator onto the third floor, while walking down the hallway wearing a black kangol hat with a walking caine was a short black man. "Ed is that you?" The guy asked cheerfully. It was him, Sam. We shook hands and wen't inside his apartment. "Say Man go head sit down." I sat down on a light brownish tan corduroyed couch, while Sam sat on the other one  connecting both ends into an L-shape.

Sam was in his 50's a blind man with heraing aids in both ears. In 2001 he had suffered minigitis while living in San Diego, resulting into being visually impaired and hearing loss.He was a dark skinned fellow who's facial features quaised the charater played by Eddie Murphy in Coming to America, Mr Clarenece the barber. Just with out the gold tooth cap and with much shorter hair. Although his personailty boast the same as the outlandish barber. Simply put never a dull moment with Sam. He was from Detroit's east side and grew up in an area I will respectfully term as gutter. He came from a heathan family and together with siblings were raised by grandparents. Sam had a neferious childhood, with a grandmother who hated him. She hated him so much that Sam said she gave him a special nick name "little black bastard". His grandfather was a hard alcholic who took solace in Canadian mist and rum and coke.  Sams last recollection of him was at age 91 still drinking, taking viagra and smoking blunts. Sam's mother and father were unfit, his mother was placed in a psychward, while his father reamined absent.

After catching miningitis, he moved back to Detroit and in 2005 left for Seattle.


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