Summertime in Murdertown - How I Survived Where the Best Die

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I was born late December at Flint Orthopedic Hospital the same year crack cocaine was hitting the streets. That detail could’ve been of some significance. The hospital no longer exists which could also mean something. GM was downsizing and outsourcing and filling our rivers with toxic waste while they hurried to close their doors. I don’t recall childhood all that much. A psychologist may call this repressed memory but simply knowing this doesn’t conjure up new memories. I remember being passed around a lot, and moving from place to place. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, people you called aunt or uncle. I remember little details, like a peculiar house we may have stayed for a night or two. I remember taking road trips like families take and playing like children do but they usually ended in police involvement and court hearings. Needless to say, I didn’t develop the deepest relationships or place the utmost trust in people very easily. I never knew when we would be packing up and moving.

This particular snapshot is from the 90’s. Summertime. Summers are special in the Midwest. Most of the year is cold, wet, rainy, snowed in, so during the warm season everyone comes outside. You could say it’s when all the action happens. I lived with my mom some summers. My mom and aunt were like Thelma and Louise. I hadn’t saw the film yet so I would say they more closely resembled older siblings than parental figures. Since my mom is no longer livin’ that life and goes to church and all that I’ll have to leave them to tell their own story. I’ll do that with most people I mention. I had just arrived. It was good to be there because it was the opposite of my dad’s place in the country. I had two sisters there. There were rules. You were made to go to school and come home afterward. You were told when and if you could eat and when you could drink. How long you could be outside and when to go to bed. Both parents were poor but one had structure and one was lawless in every sense of the word and then some. I thought some of the dad’s and of course the step mother’s punishments may have been categorized as cruel and unusual but it was just something that we had to deal with from time to time and even in the midst of being punished I cannot recall caring much. The term red headed stepchild seems appropriate here. Sometimes it was a legal custody thing where one parent had weekends and summers. Sometimes it was just an agreement that we would go here or there for a certain amount of time. We being myself and my brother Don who is a year younger. We were stuck with each other because we had the same dad, a rarity amongst over a dozen siblings. Aside from Don none of them are full blood, some are half some are step. Blood only goes so far with me. Although I have several family members I would fall on the sword for I also know and trust bums on the street better than some of my own kin so I didn’t favor one over the other and still don’t. Blood and strangers alike must earn love and respect. Everyone starts at zero.

I don’t know how my parents met. I know they were never married but I don’t recall them ever being together. I never cared to ask. My dad was that long haired guy into Metallica and Slayer and Pantera. He would expose us to all of that stuff. His wife listened to things like Acid Bath and Alanis Morissette and all that. My mom had records like Prince Purple Rain and R. Kelly Twelve Play. I learned to appreciate all of it but the music I cared most about was the stuff I would discover on my own. The music my peers turned me onto was the music of the streets. Eazy-E, 2Pac, and Biggie. The stuff that fascinated me. That spoke to us. To me, Metallica and 2Pac were the same, only 2Pac spoke right to you. Of course we could bang our heads to “Shortest Straw” and “Walk” but something moved our insides when we heard “Flint Niggaz Don’t Play” by The Dayton Family. Luckily I felt the same way about music then as I do now. Why choose sides when you can have everything?

If you can’t learn to respect and appreciate art of all forms you’re a philistine. This became a conversation piece in our careers. The fact that hip hop and rap was ingrained in my system and would eventually make its way into my own music and have its influence, something that a “forward thinking” generation even 20 years from then could not understand or get. But more about that later. Back to the story.

When it was time to go to our mom’s place we never knew where we were going or who we were going to be living with. Different house and a different boyfriend each time with a different set of siblings. For the most part though we knew we were going to Flint but sometimes ended up in Oklahoma or Florida for whatever reason. My mom was a gypsy.

I was a neighborhood kid. We had a little neighborhood crew as most kids do. My mom’s boyfriend had a son, Rock, who was a lot more social than I was. He knew everyone. I was his little brother so I was immediately plugged in. One of our good friends was Face. A year or two older than us, Face was kind of a pretty boy. Not because he was stylish, we were too poor for that, but he kept his hair short instead of in a bowl cut, wore a hat and had an ear piercing. He had been beat into a folk gang a year prior and made it known to anyone and everyone. He had a little sister who was older than we were. Her name was Kara. She was cute. I had a thing for her but I kept it to myself. Kara would only fuck with gang members. One month she would be with a Crip wearing blue and the next month she would be with a Cobra wearing green. That summer it was green. I wanted in a gang. Kara was our homegirl. When the summer was over and it was time to go back to school she would suck on all our necks to give us hickeys. We thought this would appeal to the girls in school. An obvious sign that we were men instead of boys. Strange how early the social dynamic is established. Even stranger that for the most part it hasn’t changed.

Face and Kara lived with a family member who stayed down the road from us. Their momma, Nicole, was more of a sibling than a mother figure. She was mid-thirties, pretty, and would get thrown out of her mother’s house just as much as her children. This would render them homeless, which was no big deal because us kids could always rough it on the streets or in a garage somewhere. We were used to looking after ourselves. When this happened we had no idea where Nicole would go. Sometimes she would disappear for weeks, sometimes months. She chased a bunch of men around. I think my mom’s boyfriend even messed with her but it wasn’t really my business. I never made anything my business. Since I can remember I’ve been introverted. Stuck to myself. If there was a room full of kids I wasn’t the loudest one or any kind of leader. I had no problems communicating with people but I always chose to listen rather than to speak. I liked watching. I think I always took it as an opportunity to learn something. You learn more from watching and listening than you do from speaking. Or as they say “you have two ears and one mouth for a reason.”

Kara also had a friend, Kimberly, who was from the country out near my dad. She would come to town and stay for a few days but her parents were a bit more watchful. I had a crush on Kimberly too. I think everyone had a crush on everyone. As with a lot of things kids can get away with that but as an adult you’re supposed to rid yourself of these natural impulses. I guess I do kind of resemble a Peter Pan. Anyway when she came to town she’d fuck with my older cousin Ugly Man who lived with us. Ugly Man was about to go to the army because he caught a case and the judge said it was either military or jail. As I write this it almost seems like a different reality. That type of shit doesn’t happen anymore.

The strange coincidence about me, Face, Kara, and Kimberly is that we all bounced back and forth between the same town about 20 minutes outside of Flint. Kimberly’s parents stayed there, and I have no clue who Face and Kara always ended up with but I know I would get used to seeing them. Seeing these people in my other, very different life was the only way I could stick it out in the country. It’s kind of humorous to imagine a young boy compartmentalizing his various lifestyles.

Face also had a homeboy named D-Rod who was real cool and wild and down for pretty much anything. He would float around with us, sometimes every day for a week, until he would come up missing for a week or two.

The summertime routine started in the morning. If you got up early you could catch free breakfast. Like the program The Black Panthers started in the late 60’s, the elementary school nearby hosted poor kids to eat “the most important meal of the day” during the summer when they were no longer in school. This was where we hung out frequently, whether at the basketball court or baseball diamond or playground. I never missed the breakfast because I was always awake first. A lot of my friends went to bed one or two hours before I got up but I would try to wake who I could. Kara was always down to go. We would ride our bikes to go and fetch our friend Dunk who lived next door to Kara’s grandma. Dunk was a cool kid. He wasn’t down for anything too crazy as far as breaking the law, but he was a likable cat. He was the guy on the block with the video game system. We usually played in his room when it rained.

Between Dunk’s house and the school was Blossom’s house. Blossom’s style was pure 90‘s like TLC in CrazySexyCool, the movie. She messed around with Rock but not exclusively. Her best...