A Family Member At Work!

I really love my job. It's smaller and privately-owned (which means I get recognized more easily for the work I do), the people are friendly and relatively down-to-earth, and because the company is constantly growing, there is lots of room for growth and opportunity.

Speaking of opportunity, I noticed this little cutie at my job about a week or so after I started working there (which was about 7 months ago). The old wishful thinking started to play in my mind. "Hmmm....I wonder if he gets down or not. He's a little cutie." Of course, nobody at my job knows that I do, but damn, wouldn't it be nice to REALLY confide in somebody at work like that?! He's 22 or 23, just graduated from college, and this place is his first job out of college. Been there over a year now. He's Guyanese (but I believe he's been in the US all his life) and currently lives in the Bronx. He sits on the other side of the floor as me, so we started communicating through e-mail. He's a cool dude, but sometimes he's hard to figure out. Sometimes he can come off as abrasive, but I can deal with that. Hell, that makes me wanna find out about him even more lol. But he also can be a little hard to figure out. But I'm a patient man, so I just learned to sit and wait for any signs.

The first sign came about a month ago. I came over to him to tell him that the CIO witnessed a coworker and I doing our little exercise regimen (push-ups) in some little room where our help desk is. He said when he found out, he "gagged." Red flag #1! Just to make sure I heard right, I said, "You did what??? You gagged?" He said again, "Yup, I gagged." Alriiiiiiight! A door seems to have opened. Let me sit back and wait for the door to slightly open again!

The second sign came earlier this month. When I asked him to buy something from a catalog for a kid's fundraiser, he took one of the catalogs and started to peruse through it. He saw some knife set and said, "I don't need that cause I already have a knife, and it cuts down (emphasis on that last word)." Hmmm....red flag #2! *Sound of the door slowly creaking open a little more*

But folks, today's e-mail exchange took the cake and solidified my belief that is dude is indeed a family member. I was telling him my little story about what happened on Friday....how one of the cleaning ladies threw away the food that was in the fridge (as she was told to do every Friday), and how she disgustingly dug all through the garbage with no problem to try to retrieve it for me (which she successfully did, but I damn sure didn't want it then. Yuk!) Anyway, after I told him what happened, this is what he wrote...."Oh no! I would have raised hell for that. The cards would have been read that day. Shade of all shade would have come out lol." Ladies and gentlemen, we have red flag # 3! *Ding ding ding!* When I read that, I could hardly believe my eyes. No straight man on their drunkest fuckin day would write anything like that. The thought of having family in the workplace sent me into overdrive lol. Now I'm left with a small dilemma.....I wanna ask him soooooo bad if he gets down. But how? And shit, what if my assumptions are wrong and he really doesn't get down? Then I'll be looking very stupid. I need to figure out something cause my interest has been tremendously piqued now.

*Sigh* What's a brotha to do?

Where Are They? Are We Here Already?

I was watching the news last night, and a segment came on about how Rev. Jesse Jackson was in Newark to lend his support/suggestions on how to curb the murder-rate problem that's plaguing the city. It seems like whenever you turn on the TV and there's some uproar about a problem facing our community, you either see Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton.

Then the thought came to me....why don't we see any prominent black leaders within the black gay community? We have no problems discussing other subjects concerning our people. Is this subject still taboo on a global level? Cause God knows I do not want to see Terry McMillan representing us on another program discussing her hatred/bitterness about gays just because one (count em, one) deceived her! I think the leaders are within ourselves. Hell, who can better represent each one of us than us ourselves?

What does everyone else think?

The Day My World Stood Still

I seriously debated whether or not I should post this next year or this year. But I figured hey, why wait until next year? There may be someone out there that's going through or went through the same thing. They need to hear this story now!

This day, 14 years ago, will forever be etched in my mind. My beloved mother, Elizabeth Brunson, lost her battle with a horrible disease I was 15 years old at the time, and it was truly one of the worst days of my life. But first, a little explanation on how it got to that point.....

I have always admired my mother She went to college (Rutgers) and landed a good job with Blue Cross & Blue Shield (now called Horizon). But I admired her even more after my father passed away, and she was left to raise my 2 older brothers and I on her own. In 1988, she was determined to start a new, better life for us. So we moved from East Orange to a more peaceful Linden. Things were going pretty well for us. We had adapted to our new surroundings and loved it. We were experiencing a newfound peace.

Four years later, our serenity was tested. It was around 4PM (I remember Oprah being on TV), and my mother walked into the room that my brother and I were sharing. I was sitting on my bed doing my homework and when I looked up, my mother had a tissue in her hand and a look of despair She rested her elbow on the dresser and blurted out those awful words, "I took an HIV test today and the test came back positive. I have the AIDS virus." All my brother and I could do was just sit there and look at her. What can you say to a person that just told you something like that? She definitely didn't wanna hear that everything was gonna be alright, and she can get through this. Shit, we didn't believe that ourselves! I scared and worried for her. Questions just came running to my head: What are we gonna do if/when she dies? And who gave this to her? It was too much for a 14-year-old to think about.

Over the next few months, I watched my mother go from energetic and independent to a feeble, dependent woman who was losing her hope, faith and will to live. It was a time of few highs and many lows. Her illness prevented her from working a steady, full-time job. Weight loss, pain in her body, and constant visits to the hospital (that was attributed to her not taking her medication) were customary. Her condition also caused her to become irritable and cranky most of the time, and she often lashed out and/or kept saying how she wanted to die. It was so heartbreaking for me, and many times I just cried and prayed to God that some miracle would happen and she would come back to her old self, or at least not let this virus ravage her body and spirit. I felt so helpless, but I knew I had to be there for her and help her in any way I could. Many times I would go into her room and just kiss her on the cheek as she lay on her bed. I didn't need to say anything, because actions speak louder than words. She had found this facility in Newark (by this time, we had moved to Irvington) for AIDS/HIV-infected people. They feed them and take them on daily outings such as the zoo and restaurants. It's also a facility where you can sit around, watch TV, play games, and just sit and be with your family. This was during the summer, so many times I accompanied her to the facility. I just wanted to be around her as much as I could while I still had time.

But like they say, time waits for no man, and my mother was no exception. A few days before that fateful day, my mother once again entered the hospital. On a Sunday morning (around 9AM), my aunt (the one I stay with now) woke my brother and I up and told us the two words that I knew I was going to hear eventually...."She's gone." We both got dressed, and we headed over to my other brother's girlfriend's house to get him so we could all go to the hospital. It seemed like an eternity, but we finally made it to East Orange General Hospital and went up to the room where my mother had spent her last days alive. We entered the room and there she was, on the bed with her eyes still open. For a few minutes, we just stood there and looked at her. For my oldest brother, this was all he could take, and he broke down and walked out of the room. This was the first time I had EVER seen him cry. My aunt went out to console him. A few minutes later, I came out of the room enveloped in grief, and my aunt had to console me too. I cried for so many things that day: that I was never going to see her again, that I wouldn't have any more mother/son moments, that I would never hear her voice or see her smile again. But the main thing I cried about was that she went into eternity in some bare, cold hospital room without being surrounded by people she loved and cared about by her side. I couldn’t help but feeling guilty about it. I later learned that she also had a brain tumor, so I guess her body gave out from trying to fight off two maladies at the same time. And to this day, I’m still not sure who she contracted HIV/AIDS from. It could’ve been my father or a man that she was seeing at the time of her death.

So now here I am, 14 years later, reflecting on that horrible day and the aftermath. Honestly, there are some days where I don't think about my mother. Ironically, one of those days is Mother's Day, but that's because we were raised as Jehovah's Witnesses, and we didn't celebrate any holidays. But there are some days when she just pops up in my mind and I get really sad, especially songs specifically about a person's mother ("A Song for Mama" by Boyz II Men and "Thinking of You" by Lenny Kravitz immediately pop into my mind). I’m able to view pics of her with no problem. My cousin videotaped a cookout he had at his house, and it has my mother in it. I can’t bring myself to watch it because I don’t wanna remember her in her suffering stage. It’s painful when your father passes away, but when your mother passes away the pain is almost unbearable. I wish she could've been there to see me get my first job, graduate from high school and college, get married, have a child (if I do decide to do those last two things), and all the other joys of life. But I know she’ll always be with me in spirit and mind. But everything happens for a reason, and God was showing me just how strong a person I was (or at least needed to be at the time). If I can make it through losing both parents before the age of 18, I can make it through just about anything. This trial has made me into the strong person I never saw in myself. I'm not where I wanna be, but I'm definitely not where I used to be! And I embrace this lesson in life and get through it. Notice I said "get through it" and not "get over it," cause you don't ever get over the loss of a loved one; that chapter is never closed. And to all you out there having problems or differences with your parents, appreciate them anyway, because you never know when it's going to be their time to go. And when they do, it’s going to be one of the most difficult things you will ever have to deal with in your life.

And you know something else? I didn't even break down at all when I wrote all this (but my eyes did fill up with tears a few times). I am so proud of myself for this inner strength, but my mother would be prouder. Thanks Mommy, and I love you!

August 8, 1949 - October 3, 1993

Ever Wonder?

This topic actually arose when my good friend, his man, and I were walking back to the car after we had enjoyed the festivities of the West Indian Day Parade on Labor Day. I meant to post it sooner, but better late than never right? LOL Here goes.....

I was born in East Orange, but I moved out when I was 10. My friend was born in the Bronx, but he moved out when he was a kid too (can't remember the age). His question was direct and thought-provoking (as with most of his questions): how would your life be different had you lived in the inner city all your life? For me, I know for a fact that I would have more 'street smarts.' I lost that when I moved. And when I was robbed 2 1/2 years ago, having street smarts really would've come in handy.

So now I ask all of you who went through the same experience....have you ever wondered how your life would be if you lived in the inner city all your life? Would it have impacted your life positively or negatively? How/why?

20 Years (Father)

In the past, I haven't given September 16th much thought at all. It came and went without much notice. (Most of the time, it was during a work week anyway.) But this year, the date holds a significant milestone for me. As much as I tried not to think about it, it kept poppin up in my head, and I even had to remind my brothers about it. For it was on this day, 20 years ago, that the man we knew as our father went into eternal rest. I was only 9 years old at the time. And like anything else traumatic that happens to you when you are a child, it is a day I will never forget. But first, a brief overview of my father....

William Howard Brunson was fun to be around and seemed happy to all those who came in contact with him. (My brothers and I never called him Dad; we always called him Bucky. I never knew why, and we never questioned it.) But he was also a man who was battling some serious demons in his life. He had spent about 15 years of his life in prison from the time he was about 19. After being released from prison, he met my mother, had my brother, got married, and had me, all in about a 4-year span. (My oldest brother is from another man, but Bucky raised him as his own.) I remember my father having only 2 jobs: one was at Consolidated Laundries, where he would ship towels, sheets, etc. to various companies, and another at Biase's Restaurant, where he worked as a cook. Both were located in Newark are no longer in existence. He was hard-working man, but he also battled a serious alcohol addiction, something that started when he was young. I would remember times when he would drive me around and drink, or times when he just plain forgot to take me somewhere cause he would be too drunk to remember. At times, my brothers, mother and I tried to curb it by pouring out all his liquor one day. My mother even took him to rehab, where he stayed for a few weeks. But it wasn't all bad times. I also remember good times at beaches, amusement parks, and even home. He loved to cook, dance, and just plain have a good time and always enjoyed the pleasure of company. He was a fun-loving man, but I can't really say he was loving. I don't ever remember a time when he said he loved me, or even displayed some type of emotion. This sometimes confused me, because I couldn't understand why. And like most black families, my brothers and I got a big-ass helping of ass-whuppins and punishments whenever we did something wrong. At night we would lay in our beds and say, "I hate Bucky! I wish he was dead!" That wish proved prophetic.

On that previous Friday before this date, Bucky spent most of the day vomiting and laying in the bed. My brothers and I did not know what to do. When my mother came home from work that day, we told her that he was in really bad shape, so she rushed into the room and immediately took him to the hospital.

That was the last day I ever saw him alive.

A few days later, I was told he had slipped into a coma (I didn't know what it was back then). And then on Tuesday night back in 1987, around 6:30PM, my mother came home from the hospital devastated and told us, "He died. He didn't make it." The years of alcohol abuse had finally taken a toll on most of the organs in his body. First she hugged my oldest brother (15 at the time), then my middle brother (12 at the time). I ran into the bathroom to wipe my tears on my towel, then came back to hug my mother. Contrary to what some people say, KIDS UNDERSTAND DEATH! We knew that our father was gone and was not coming back.

I remember his wake (sooooooo many people were there), but we could not go to his funeral, which was located at a church. At the time, my mother was a Jehovah's Witness, and they do not deal with churches in any way. So my mother, her friend, my brothers and I stayed in the family car while the funeral was taking place inside. It seemed like forever, but the people finally came out hugging and consoling each other through their grief. We got to the gravesite, and I stood in the front with my grandmother's (father's mother's) arms around my shoulders. One of the Jehovah's Witness elders make some remarks, then they lowered my father six feet below to his (final?) resting place. As we drove away from the cemetary, the thought of not having him around once again hit me, and tears slowly came to my eyes.

Now that I'm a grown man and had 2 decades to reflect on this day, I've discovered one thing that I either kept hidden or just plain didn't realize: my father inadvertently passed along his trait of not allowing people to get too close to him. He tried to shield himself (with alcohol) from what he didn't want to face (life?). Don't get me wrong, I'm a chill, down-to-earth dude with quite a few friends. But I do not allow a person to know everything about me. At times, I find it difficult to fully convey what I am feeling, especially to a man. Hell, that's most likely the reason why I have never been in a serious relationship. I'm scared to let my guard all the way down to let someone in. Am I angry for what my father may have done? No. I don't hold long grudges against people, and he wouldn't be able to see or feel my anger anyway. Madonna made a song years ago called "Oh Father," and one of the lyrics read, "Maybe somebody/When I look back I'll be able to say/You didn't mean to be cruel/Somebody hurt you too" I'm sure there were many things my father was hurting about (trying to make something out of his life after serving time in prison, trying to provide for his wife and children, just trying to be a responsible man in general). Even now whenever I hear this song or "Dance with my Father," the words hit hard and deep. Somtimes I can't even hear the entire songs without tearing up or just turning it off. Guess I realized I love and miss my father more now than I ever did before.

December 8, 1939 - September 16, 1987

Mr. Nice Guy? For What?!

I am sitting here a little hurt but extremely annoyed. The person that considers me his best friend (whom I have known for about 3 1/2 years) has a strange way of showing it. (Those in my circle know who I'm talking about.) We've had spats before, but today's was a little worse than the others.

The latest spat involved the very root of all evil...money (or, in this case, a bill). A few months ago, my said "best friend" stated that he wanted a laptop and asked me for advice on which one to get. I suggested a Dell because I've had the most positive experiences with them. So I spent a day or two looking on the Dell Web site to try to find one that was best for him. Because I have a Dell card, I even took it one step further and agreed to put the laptop on my card and have him give me the money back in installments. The first payment was fine, but as time progressed, the payments started to arrive later and later. Now he sends me the money only a few days in advance, which does not really work for me because I need to time for the money to: a) post to my account (because it still is a bank transaction after all) and b) pay the bill online. In the past few months, the bill was paid literally on the day it was due. I don't like payin bills on the due date; if I can handle it, I would rather them to be paid with days (hell, even a week) left over so that I won't run the risk of encountering a late payment and thus, showing up negatively on my credit report. The first time he did this, I was a little annoyed but I got over it. But this time I was not so forgiving. As the due date quickly approached, I felt it necessary to send him an e-mail reminding him that I still needed the money, to which he replied that he would have the money for me on Friday (this past Friday). Friday came and went with no money-exchange. The next day I text him and asked him when he was gonna give me the money, to which he replied, "As soon as I get outta bed." (Mind you, this was 1PM Saturday, and he tells me that he "forgot" about the money the other day. But yet, he sure didn't forget to keep asking me when the laptop had been ordered and arrived.) A few hours later, he finally drops by unannounced, hands me the money, then promptly leaves. It was as if he was annoyed and he was doing me a favor. Hellooooooo....it's your responsibility! I was the one that was (and should be) annoyed, and with every reason. Now I had to scramble to make sure the money was in my account and the bill was paid by Tuesday. *Sigh* So I called him and told him to make sure the money gets to me earlier. Reluctantly, he agrees.

Anyway, by the time today rolls around, I can't really say I was mad, but I definitely just wanted to clear the air and let him know where I stood with this situation, because I didn't have a chance to really speak with him about it on Saturday or Sunday. So I e-mailed him and told him that the reason why I was a little annoyed is because I went out of my way to do a nice thing for him, and his getting an attitude with me about the promptness of his payment gave off the aura of someone being ungrateful, rude and inconsiderate. In a nutshell, his reply was that I "just wanted to complain," that I was "whining," and how I needed to "get over it." But then he says to me that after he finishes paying me for the laptop to never do anything for him again! Excuse me??!! So I said, "If that's the way you feel, then fine." He got a lotta fuckin nerve! And to add insult to injury, he forwards our conversation to some of our friends and to his coworker (as if her opinion really matters), and he claims that nobody agreed with me. It was basically some underhanded shit to me to try to make me into this dude with serious mental problems while he's the innocent victim who didn't do anything wrong, which disgusted me!

Yes it started out as just an issue about a bill, but it's really escalated into a bigger issue. Almost everything I say he brushes off. If it doesn't fit his little criteria of what is right or logical, then you're wrong and he doesn't wanna hear it. I am tired of it, and it hurts my heart to know that somebody who claims I'm such a best friend can also be so passive concerning others. But I'm a little angry at myself because none of this would've happened if I wasn't tryin to be so nice. I am really starting to hate it, cause you can only be so nice for so long before somebody comes along and screws you. First my aunt (that's another story), and now him. Sometimes I feel like I'm abusing myself for being a fuckin nice guy. As much as I really don't wanna say this, I think I'm gonna have to get rid of this "nice guy" persona. It's not getting me anywhere. But I'm probably just talking out of bitterness and anger right now. Time will tell though.

True 'What the Fuck' Moments

This one was too good to not blog about lol....

Today when I was on my lunch break around 2:30, I get a phone call from a number I do not recognize. Usually when that happens (and today was no exception), I let my phone go to VM. The way I see it, if it's really important, they'll just leave a damn message. Lo and behold, the person sure did leave one. I didn't check the VM right away. I waited til about 5 or so. Half because I was still relatively busy at work, and half because I forgot. When I finally got around to checking it, it was from this dude I went to high school with that I just got reacquainted with through another HS classmate's baby shower a few months ago. (I gave him my business card and put my cell number on it. I'm a corporate homo lol. But I also like to help people in any way I can. And besides, I might need him again one day in life and vice versa, and I've learned to not burn bridges). Not to put people down or anything, he's a nice dude but the dude's head ain't screwed in too tight lol. (When I saw him walking into the building for the baby shower, he was carrying on a conversation with himself.) Anyway, the VM (through all the stuttering and pauses he made) said that he had something to ask me, and it was "very, very important." Hmmm....what the hell could he want with me? So I finally returned his call, and he proceeds to tell me that "the issue is now settled" and how he felt "embarrassed" to even ask me now.
"Well you already spent time leaving me the VM, so you mind as well tell me," I replied. *Another pause from him* "Ummm....do you have five big ones? I have to start class soon."
W....T.....F #1! Did he just ask me what I think he just asked me, I thought to myself. I don't even give my family members money like that! Why I give that much to somebody I barely even remember from high school?! I quickly regained my composure and asked him, "Are you talkin about $500?" "Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm askin," he said.
"Sorry man, I can't help you there," I said.
"Oh ok," was his only reply.

So then the conversation moves toward him going to a job fair tomorrow and how he's looking for work. I ask him what field is he looking in, and he tells me "something in a warehouse" (he worked for both Fed Ex and UPS in their shipping department). I don't think he went/finished college, and based on his eccentricities, it was kinda hard for him to find much else. I told him I knew somebody that I believed still worked at this warehouse
in Woodbridge and would contact him to see if his job was hiring and get back to him. I called the dude and left him a VM. And guess what, the weird dude calls me back again about a half hour later wanting to know if I heard from the dude. "No. I left him a VM. I'll let you know when he calls me back."
"Aight," he says, and hangs up. Just as I pull up to my house (8:30), I get another phone call from you-know-who. W...T...F #2! At this point, I'm just annoyed as hell. What the fuck is he callin me again for, I say to myself. I'm not returning his call til after I finish eating. So around 9:15 I prepared myself mentally for what I was about to hear from this dude.
"Oh, I forgot to ask you, do you know if this dude has morning shifts at his job?"
*Sighing in my mind* "I don't know man, he still hasn't called me back yet. Once I know something I'll make sure to call you back."

As of 10:35, no call back from dude lol. I guess he finally got the point now and gave his fingers a rest from dialing my number. Just had to share my 'what the fuck' moments with yall.