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| Antone holding the book and bike |
Something different, unexpected and eye opening happened on August 11, 2012. Before I explain what took place, I would like to tell you about my first cousin Anthony Studway who passed away, in
his mother’s arms, at
the age of twelve. He had been outside playing basketball when he came into house complaining of a headache.
The pain was strong enough that his mother took him to the emergency room where she was told to wait. By the time a doctor got around to seeing him he had died.
Anthony and I were from
a poor family. We lived in a poor community on Chicago’s Westside where employment opportunities were nonexistent. From a historical viewpoint, the 1970’s in
Chicago was a period when
steel mills, meat packing houses and other similar industries shut down, leaving thousands unemployed. Historically, it was also a period known as White Flight, which many historians debate about
whether or not it had a direct impact on
Chicago’s Urban Communities. White Flight is a term used to describe the mass exodus of the middle class from Chicago’s city limits to its surrounding suburbs. Anthony and I were young urban boys during that time.
In the late 1970’s
Anthony and I, along with seven other cousins, spent the summer at our grandmother’s apartment. She lived directly above
a tavern at the corner of
Madison and Monroe Streets. It was during that time Anthony and I had to learn how to deal with bullying, alcoholics, hustlers and a general sense of hopelessness. Anthony was the type of guy who always liked to have money in his pocket, and he had found a way to keep his pockets full of change. One day, he convinced me
to walk to Jewell,
a local grocery store chain. While there he stood in the parking lot and asked people if
he could put their groceries in the car in exchange for any spare change they had. He didn’t earn much, but
he always had just enough to buy himself a sandwich, which on most days, was all he wanted. The only reason I began doing the same thing was because I was hungry as well. My grandmother worked as a domestic and loved us dearly, but at times, she could not feed everyone
with the money she earned. I don’t know what my parents, aunts and
uncles did to help out,
but whatever it was, it was not enough to feed so many.
On August 11, 2012 I had just walked out of
the Jewell Grocery store in my quiet suburban neighborhood. I opened the trunk of my car and out of nowhere I heard a voice ask.
“Excuse me sir. Can I place your groceries in the car for some spare change?” Shocked and slightly annoyed I turned and looked at a young black boy and told him no.
I had things to do and had no time to deal with foolishness. Then,
with a brave and steady voice the young man asked.
“Well can I have some food?” The moment he asked that I paused and took another look at
him. He said,
“Sir, my mother has used all of the money she got for food from the government. I’m not trying to rob anyone I’m just trying to get some food.” His request touched something deep within
me. I opened my bag and tossed him some Sesame Sticks I’d purchased. The young man thanked me and then walked away. I got in my car and as
I pulled off I wondered if he had taken the Sesame Sticks back into the store to return the item for the cash. I had told myself that the young man was con artist. As
I pulled around, I
saw the young man, still standing outside of the store asking for help. Then it dawned on me that he was serious. I drove away thinking about my cousin Anthony. Then something told me to go back. I didn’t listen to that inner voice and kept driving. Then, I heard it again.
The voice told me to go back and help. I pulled over, put my car in park, and argued with myself about getting involved. I listened to my heart and I turned my car around and headed back. I told myself that the young man would probably be gone.
When I pulled back up the young man was still there asking for help. I blew my car horn and waved for him to come over.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Antone.”
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“A 105th Street.”
He said.
“You’re at 175th Street. How did you get here?” I asked.
“I rode my bike part of
the way, but then the chain snapped so
I walked the rest of
the way.”
“How are you going to get back home?” I asked.
“Hopefully, I can get enough money
to catch the bus back. So that I don’t have to walk back with
the food I’ve been able to get. But so far I don’t even have a dollar in change.”
“So what’s going on with
your mom?” I asked.
“She had spent all
of the money we get for food. It’s gone. I have four other brothers and sisters who are younger and we have not eaten in a few days.”
“Why doesn’t your mother get a job?” I asked.
“She had a job as a maid at
a hotel, but was let go. I don’t know why she won’t look for another job.”
“Have you thought about finding yourself a part-time job?” I asked.
“Yeah, but every time I go someplace, they tell me
to fill out an application online.
I don’t have a computer.”
“Did you know that
you can go to a local library and use a computer?” I asked.
“Yes. But you need a library card.”
“That’s free,” I said.
“No, it costs ten dollars now and to be honest if I get ten dollars, I’m going to buy something to eat.” I paused and studied the young man for a moment. Taking in
his story and the genuineness of
his words. I also happened to glance down
at his shoes, and noticed that
he didn’t have any shoelaces.
“What happened to
your shoe laces?” I asked.
“My shoes are too small, so I took out the strings so
I’d have more room.” He explained.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“18. I’m going into
my senior year of high school. I’m trying to finish because
I know how hard it
is to get a job without a diploma.”
“Why did you come way out here to stand outside of the grocery store?” I asked.
“Well. People are nicer out here than
they are in my neighborhood. Plus, my mother constantly calls the police to complain about the drug dealers that hang out on the corner. The drug dealers found out
that it was my mother making the calls, and now the drug dealers beat me up whenever they see me. When I go into the house I have to walk through the alley so
they won’t see me.” He paused. “I’m not trying to sell drugs. I’m not about that. I just want some food. I
won’t be able to stand out her much longer because eventually someone will call
the police on me. They’ll tell me to go home before they arrest me” He said.
That did it for me. I asked. “Do you know how
to do yard work?”
“Yeah, I know how
to cut grass, I can trim brushes, pick up trash. I can do it all and do a good job.” He said enthusiastically. I took a huge chance and told him that he
would have to come with me back to my house in order to do some work for me and get paid. Antone rushed back to
the entryway of the grocery store, picked up
a plastic bag filled with a few items of food and got in the car with me.
I drove him back to my home. I gave him the lawnmower and without hesitation he fired it
up and began working. He worked carefully wanting to make sure he didn’t make an error. Antone swept the driveway and picked up
the apples that had fallen from my Apple Trees. While he worked I asked more questions about school, his education and other social issues.
“Where is your father?” I asked.
“I don’t know. My mom said I met him once when
I was two, but I don’t remember him
at all.” He said pausing
from the work he was doing. We talked a little about history and I asked if
he knew who Abraham Lincoln was. To my surprise he had no idea. His defense was that his school was so underfunded, that
there were certain things
that he didn’t learn. For a moment I thought about the documentary called, Waiting For Superman, which highlights the problems
of America’s public education system. I explained to
him who Abraham Lincoln was. I talked about Civil Rights, economic power and politics. I tried to share information about
the world that he
may not have noticed.
Later, I went into my garage and removed an old mountain bike that I never rode. I cleaned it up, put air in the tires and told him to give it a test run. Antone mounted the bike and zoomed around my driveway as if it was Christmas Day and he’d gotten a new toy. He seemed happy and that made me smile.
I went into
my house, and filled a Mayor Daley Bookclub Backpack with food. Mayor
Richard M. Daley had just recently left office but sponsored a program that got teens like Antone excited about reading books. I had participated in the program several times as a guest author. When I came back out of the house I asked.
“Do you like to read?”
“Yes. I like reading a lot,” He answered. I told him that I was an author and I gave him a signed copy of Keysha’s Drama. He asked.
“What is it about?”
“Read it and find out,”
I said. I also gave Antone $45.00 and asked if I could take a photo of him because I didn’t know if I would ever see him again. He said okay and
smirked for me. I told Antone
how to get back home from where he was and he said thank you. He got on the bike, put on the backpack filled with food, and rode off.
Antone reminded me
of myself and my cousin Anthony. Perhaps in the spiritual world it was Anthony who told me to go back and help him. Perhaps that act of kindness made a world of difference for
him. I’ll never know. However, I am glad that I took time out of my busy life, to listen to
my heart and help someone who was in need.
