The Joy to Continue On!

This one goes out to the Hometown Hero, who resided at 92 N. Ardmore!

A calm Pilar in the middle of a flowing neighborhood of teenagers on the edge of trouble and guidance with a positive push in the right direction. There stood a house, at the top of the hill in plain sight, but unofficially the safe house to many young men dreams and way of life. There, at the top of the hill, stood a man with a basketball in one hand and holding a bass in the other. Daring each young man to follow his heart and navigate his mind away from the potential pain and setbacks to the way of life's current surroundings, that took presentation from the flow of the neighborhood with a not too high success rate for seeing young black men turn into anything positive.

My frequent route to the corner store could not avoid this house. The ingredients for the success of manhood, and the construction of my profession future growth was contained within the walls of this house and from the mouth of this Man, who anchored the four-walled structure. Often, I would see His son and others trying to play basketball on an uneven paved driveway, with a weathered rim and goal attached to a garage that could tell stories. Never one to play basketball at the time, but to God's plan, it was my way to soak in a much-needed lessons to pave my way to adulthood.

Making stive to the corner store, with my empty pop bottles in a clear plastic bag in hand for deposit to buy my favorite midday snack, a voice shouted out, "Come play 21 with me!" There stood His son all alone missing jumpers and needed someone to take his frustration out on, so to pick on a kid with less skills would be easy prey. We started to play and there our friendship seed was planted and started a course of growth on and off the court. Little did I know, God was planting a seed to blossom well beyond basketball. A nurturing and wealth of knowledge ready to be planted in a young lost brain of mine, with no sense of manhood and no sense of self-respect at the time.

Young at age, and the skills of basketball at the time, many summer nights in the back yard of 92 N. Ardmore turned into battles of friendly competitive basketball and an occasional lesson from the Anchor about life lessons and making sound life decisions. As many young men received the lessons of life from this Established Black Pillar in a neighborhood lacking fathers and role models, I took to it the most because I found a new joy in the game of basketball and a sense of direction at the same time from His stern and constructive words. At times He would challenge all the young men to a game of 21. Very few won, but His method was all in the same, beat us to death on that uneven court as He was beating life lessons in our heads. How to beat the odds and doing better in life and ending the cycle of the absent fathers in the household.

As time developed, my respect for this Man grew and at the same time, my respect for the developing young man was growing in me at the same time. I no longer walked with my head down. I looked people in the eye when I spoke to them. My confidence grew as He kept pouring words into me and my mental temple grew stronger. I was not the only one who benefited from these talks and the time spent with Him and He grew in all the young men that stepped foot in His backyard to play a game of 21. Basketball was the harboring tool, but the encouraging talks to many young black men was the cornerstone of our growth.

Today, I celebrate His efforts every time I stive as a father. Hold fast to the stern talks and staying true to my sense of fatherhood, my sense if keeping integrity, and my duty to do right by others. I could never thank Him enough for when He was here and often, I think about Him in everything I do.

Neighborhoods aren't made like this anymore! We often tend to ourselves, and we don't take the opportunity to speak to the people we see every day. Not me! I make an effort to say hello to my neighbor and let kids play with my kids in my back yard on my rim. Not as weathered and beating like the one I once made shots on and bonded with friends but give it time! I look to be that same anchor in the community because very much like me, there's a young man that need the encouragement that was once given to me. The talk that potentially saved me from making a wrong decision. The talks that helped me understand that no matter how many times life knocks you down, get up and keep smiling and moving on.

He is my Hometown Hero! He is the reason many young black men kept moving on and responsible for the strong character we have today. We are products of 92 N. Ardmore! Strong, capable and fit for survival! We are the men today that were molded yesterday and baked in an oven surround by death and destruction. The odds were stacked against us, but there stood a Pilar at the top of the hill, destine not to fail on His watch to mold young black men. Cannot place blame on my father which was not there for whatever reason. However, I was taught to channel that energy and turn it into love by doing better and being there for my children, thanks to the Man who played the bass and occasionally beat the living daylights out of me on that court only to build a stronger Black Man.

I am 92 N. Ardmore!