The 80's: A Short Story

Every man and woman strives to achieve success, it’s what our parents teaches us from birth. However, a lot of people don’t realize success comes with a lot of failures. I’m not going to lie, I thought life would be easy. I graduate from high school, never got in trouble, and was a promising basketball star. In my adolescence years, things were handed to me, and I never really thought about my future. When the time came for me to take on the real world, I didn’t know what the struggle and the grind of life was. What made it even more tough was, growing up in the urban part of the bay area, which created chains of events that would change my life forever. My life was changing and I didn’t have a direction, and I kept sinking lower, until I
couldn’t sink no more. Eventually we all found our path in life, despite some major setbacks on my road to success, I set out to make change for not just me, but for others by becoming a social worker.
The 1980’s was one of the worst time in American history, ideally in cities that had economic hardships.
The drug, crack-cocaine was introduced to the streets. Now this drug wasn’t just any type drug, it brought destruction to families, millions of people were hook, and people were leaving their kids to pursue their habit. Unfortunately for me, I was one of those kids who lost a parent to the 80’s. Oakland in the 70’s was a soulful city, it symbolizes strength, and unity because of the Black Panthers. Consequently, when the 80’s hit, the city became all about survival, and there was only a few options, drug dealer, drug addict, jail, or death. With all that going around me, my family was very big on church, especially because my grandmother was a pastor. My grandmother was well-known in the community, because she took homeless people off the streets, feed them and give them shelter. She would have AA meeting, and took care of foster kids. I thought she was awesome for being such an important part of the city rebuild. At eight, my grandmother would send me and my cousins out to sell candy to help fund all her ideas. By the way, there was fifteen cousins, so my grandmother would make over a thousand dollars a day She would only give us a dollar for all that hard work. Where was the child labor laws? My grandmother said,” were doing this for the community,” and I was ok with that. As the 2000’s approach, my grandmother was slowing down, so my mother and aunties picked it up a
lot of the work. My grandmother decided to take her work down to Houston to help people in the south. When she moved, it was blow to our family, so we all just stop and went our own ways. I do wonder, if she never left, would our family still be helping the community out?
After the departure of my grandmother, the year 2003 came. I was a senior in high school, and my life was great. I was the top player in high school, my grades were good, and my mom was proud of me. While life was good, it never crosses my mind, what am I going to do after high school. Let’s be honest, jocks only care about sports, girls, and what college their going to. I had the University of California Berkeley and Fresno State willing to give me full rides to come to their schools. I felt like the world was mine, and nothing could go wrong. Two weeks in to the basketball season, I tore my Ligaments in my knee. Ligaments tears are the worst because they never really heal, and my recover time was set for a year and a half. I couldn’t take the injurie, because I would lose my scholarships. My life that was once promising, felt like it crashed and burned. After graduation came, with no basketball, and no scholarship, I turn to the one thing my mother hated the most, the streets. My mother was a loan officer for a bank, so I didn’t need for money, but in the black community that seems to be the only alternative, I thought. I felt defeated and the confidence I had about myself, was gone. I saw many deaths, mothers crying, and people I knew from childhood start to do heavy drugs. At that time, I didn’t see anything wrong, I thought it was a way of life, yet I was killing my own community by selling drugs to my people, the community my grandmother had my family take care of. It was easy getting into the streets, but it was very hard trying to get out. By Twenty-One, I got arrest for selling drugs, and I just remember the newspaper clip that was title, “Former High School Star Gets Arrested.” The once promising kid, now had record. Luckily for me it was probation, and a few nights in jail, but now I had bigger issues, finding work with a record. I was thinking I should go back to school, and just as I felt I had a plan, I found out I got a son on the way. Mistake after mistake, I kept sinking.
I came to a point, where I felt like it was nowhere to go and I was trap. One day, I decide to talk to the only person who thought I was still special, my mother. My mom was still mad at me for having a baby and not being able to take care of it. My mother said, “it’s time for a change.” That’s it, nothing else was said. The awkward silent was her tool to make me think, and then it dawns on me, I want do something that helps people. My grandmother did so much for Oakland, but got no recognition. She was just happy knowing she was helping somebody. At that point, I knew finally what I wanted to do, something I could be happy and proud of. I start off doing recreational sports, this a good way to help the kids, but it was volunteer work, and my son was just born. I decided to do janitorial work, and that’s what I have been doing for the last 10 years. Of course, I didn’t want to do that, but it was a paycheck and it allow me to take care of my family, but I never gave up on my dream. In 2012, I started to take some classes to help me understand children and drug addiction. I did more volunteer work and got some very good experience with groups of children and young adult who had some of same issues I had. I want to do this full time and still provide for my family. I decided to come back to school to pursue my Bachelor in Social Worker.
Today, I look at life and I know I have mission.
My grandmother taught me the most important lesson, always dream big, and never be afraid to fail. I was never a bad kid, I never did drugs, even though I was selling them, I was scared I would get hook on it like my dad. I’ve had very good guide throughout life, but I chose my own path. I thought I was a bad person, but I realize that life is about mistakes, and with our society being so judgmental, we need more leaders to step up more than ever. My son is now 12 years old, I try my best as his dad to push him to love people, and always be a part of community. At this point in my life, I want keep my family mindset to help as many people as we can. I have been though a million struggles, but I know it’s a million more to go. I tell the young men and women, my job is to give them the tools, but it takes them to use it. One day, hopefully when it’s all said and done, I can say I chosen the right path, and I made a change in somebody’s
life.