Bleeding Perseverance - Episode 39

Autobiography Fridays

PART THREE

FREEDOM

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CHAPTER 16

Next Stop, Pasadena

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A year in Riverside meant only one thing. It was time to move on. Mom had taken a few classes at a local community college and wanted to find a good school to continue with. After a little research she decided Pasadena would be a nice place to live, with plans of attending Pasadena City College that Fall. As for me, I still yearned for music, so kept that in the forefront of my mind.

Nothing had changed as far as Mom‟s moving style, so we were again calling a motel home. The Regal Inn on Colorado Boulevard. The five of us in one room was not a pretty sight, oftentimes a breeding ground for chaos. We went through our same old hardships, and the following month as I turned nineteen we found a place on the corner of California and Rosemead. It had once been a small convent, and again Mom had to convince the owner to take a chance on us. You’d think after all those years of promising such a thing that she would at least one time actually do it, but it never failed. We always left a place at odds with the owners because she hadn’t fulfilled her end of the agreement. If anything, it just reinforced my own beliefs of staying true to one’s word. And again I was so grateful that we were so different in nature.

The house had two storeys, with two and a half bedrooms upstairs. This place had a bachelors pad in the backyard too, but again the price was separate, so it just sat there unused. I took the half bedroom, which had an exit going out to the roof. The roof actually looked like a deck and was a nice place to look up at the stars.

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Soon Mom was getting ready to start the Fall semester at PCC and I had decided to attend as well. At first I was going to take psychology, since I had done well in it, but on enrollment day I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Music was my passion, so I chose classes which supported such. Music Appreciation, Keyboarding, and African-American Music. Mom was upset to find out that I had changed my mind at the last minute, but I didn’t give a damn. I had to follow my heart.

A couple of weeks before the start of classes someone who worked with Marta Woodhull called me and asked if I would like to be a volunteer at a seminar she was doing in exchange for free entrance. Of course I accepted, and so I helped assist at the all-day event. It was nice to meet Marta, and she was as nice in person as she had been on the phone. Afterwards we said our goodbyes and how we would keep in touch so I could take vocal lessons from her later on when the timing was right.

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During the Fall semester at PCC I enjoyed learning the fundamentals of music, as well as learning short little songs on the keyboard. My teacher said I was doing well, but I tended to play by ear more than following the music on the page. This is actually a good ability, but we were there to learn to READ music, so that was something I had to work on. As for African American music class, my favorite pieces we were exposed to were definitely the slave songs. Although the people of that time were under such unfortunate circumstances, the music that came out of it had a great soulful sound. A fusion of their African roots and the new suppressive environment they had to adapt to.

This knowledge never left me, and led me to writing the dramatic horror novella, The Mirrored Staircase, a decade later.

Because we were on the go a lot now, with me and Mom at PCC and the kids with their schooling, the cats began to come and go as they pleased as well. Getting to know the neighborhood, they never forgot where home was, especially when it came time for dinner. So when I realized I hadn’t seen Booma for a few days I started to get concerned. Mom and the kids hadn’t seen him either, so I decided to take a picture I had of him and went around to the neighbors asking if they’d seen him. No one had, and the whole thing just didn’t seem right. Not only did Booma know where he lived, but he knew who he belonged to, always coming to my room to sleep at night.

A couple of weeks later in the middle of the night Mom came to my room and woke me up. Before telling me why, she asked me to forgive her. She then told me that a few weeks before, she had found Booma in the back by the alley, dead! She said it looked like someone had hit him with a car and that his eyes were looking towards the house as if he had tried to make his way home. She hadn’t told me the truth because she knew how close I was to him, and then claimed that she kept seeing and hearing him at night. That he wouldn’t leave her alone until she told me what had happened.

Sounded like it was just her guilty conscious eating away at her, but being the person of truth I’ve always been I was just glad I now knew it. It was true that Booma and I were close, but although it was saddening I didn’t appreciate her keeping his death from me, and just told her that if anything ever happened like that again to just tell me. As I turned over to go back to sleep I then said a little farewell to Booma Tooma, which I say to every soul I know that leaves this life. “May peace be with you on your continuing journey~”

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Although I was still cautious of the activities I did, my back was doing fine and I was basically back to my old normal self. The latest news from Stockton was that Chino had gotten married to a girl he met while working there in the produce department at Food 4 Less. They had just gone to the local court house for the ceremony and now he was a step dad. His new wife Leticia had two kids from a previous marriage. Alex, about four, and Jackie, about seven. Add to that a baby of their own due in a matter of weeks. It was hard to believe that I was actually going to be an uncle.

Meanwhile KIIS FM, L.A.’s most popular top 40 radio station, (who had my favorite disc jockey, Rick Dees) had a contest going on. Basically you had to call this toll-free number and leave your name, age, birth date and social security number. Monday through Friday the on-air DJ would play a recording of a person calling in from the computer’s database. If the person whose message was being played back heard it and called within thirty minutes they’d win the cash prize. The first name of the day at 7:10 a.m. was worth five-thousand dollars, and the names played at 11:10, 4:10 and 7:10 p.m. were worth a thousand each. And so I called in and left my info, then made sure to tune in religiously.

For the first couple of weeks, nothing. Then one day at 11:10 a.m. the recording of me saying my name was the one being played! I was upstairs alone in the bedroom and without saying anything to Mom, who was downstairs, I went in to her room to use the phone. Upon calling the station and verifying my info I was declared a winner!

After a few minutes of soaking it in and listening to the playback on the radio I went downstairs to where Mom was.

“I just won a thousand bucks.” I said calmly as if it weren’t real. She thought I was joking at first, but after I explained she was tripping out.

Up to that point, a thousand dollars was the most money I had ever had at one time. A couple of days later someone from the radio station called me with an invitation to go to Universal City Walk to be part of the group of winners to be interviewed for Good Day L.A., a local TV morning show. A few days later Daniel and I were headed to Tony Romas restaurant where the taping would be held. They had us sit down at the tables, and one by one briefly came around to each table and asked us what our plans were with our winnings. When they got to me I said I’d use the money towards my musical goals, which I did. I finally got a nice keyboard. Something I had wanted for many years.

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After the brief TV interview Daniel and I had the rest of the day to ourselves, and since Universal Studios was right next door and I had a good amount of cash on me there was only one thing to do. After so many years of waiting I’d finally be able to ‘Live the Movies!’

The overall experience was great. From the Back to the Future ride to the impressive Backdraft attraction. Of course I couldn’t get enough of the behind-the-scenes attractions, including the backlot tram tour. But the main thing I looked forward to after all those years of waiting wasn’t offered. More than anything I wanted to watch an actual production being shot, so learning that such a thing is not normally offered, and even when it is it’s very brief, was a big letdown. So although I learned a few new things about movie magic, it would be later on down the road before I’d really become exposed to filmmaking.

On October 13th Chino’s son Eric was born. We couldn’t make it up to Stockton to see him in person, but through pictures we were amazed at how much father and son looked alike.

The next month in November we heard that things weren’t going well for the newlyweds, and that Chino had actually been put in jail for some reason. I’m not sure if it was due to a confrontation between the two, but at any rate Mom convinced Leticia to pack up the kids and come stay with us for a while. So a few days later we met the little addition to the family

We all really enjoyed having Eric around. For me, my favorite times with him were when we’d be alone up in the bedroom together while I rocked him to sleep. It gave me thoughts of what it would be like to have my own child. Like wanting to be married at a young age, I also wanted to be a father early on. But like the promise I had made to myself to wait for the right one, I would be responsible and patient, insisting not to have a kid until I was financially secure. There’s no way I’d make my child experience the terrible world of poverty like I had to endure. When he or she enters this world it’s not going to be because of an irresponsible act, but rather a planned joyful event, where everything they need to get a great start in this world will be provided to them.

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On January 17th 1994 at 4:31 a.m. I woke up to the strongest earthquake I had ever experienced. Most of the previous ones I had felt were rolling and non’threatening, but this one was violent and seemed endless. Living in California you always hear about The Big One, and sitting up in bed early that morning I seriously thought this one could be it. The length of it really made it seem surreal, and after twenty long seconds it finally stopped. The kids then started to cry and we all checked to see if everyone was alright. Leticia and her kids had been sleeping downstairs, but the only thing that was damaged were some shelf ornaments that fell and broke. After calming down we all made our beds in Mom’s room and got a little more sleep.

A few hours later we woke to the latest news. The epicenter was in Northridge and the magnitude had been 6.7. The house was fine. In fact the only thing that was affected anywhere nearby was a cement wall located across the street, which had fallen apart.

When we went to the grocery store everyone was buying up water like it was the end of the world. Funny how people prepare for an event right after it’s over, as if it were going to repeat. When does that ever happen? And yet this is what’s done after every big event. An earthquake? Ok, now let’s buy the supplies. A terrorist attack or school shooting? Now let’s turn the area into Fort Knox.

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A couple of weeks later Chino was out of jail and on his way to Pasadena. He, Leticia, and the kids stayed in the garage, which we had converted into a large room. Obviously the first few days were nice. A good „ol reunion. But when you live with Mom it’s only a matter of time before there’s conflict. And like I’ve already explained, there’s no logic with someone who is as negative as her. Pointing out her mistakes is like adding fuel to an already out of control fire.

Up to that point Leticia hadn’t seen the real Mom, but now she understood what Chino had tried to explain to her beforehand. After a couple of weeks of on and off fighting, which included a few shoving matches between her and Chino, the breaking point had come. It was already nighttime, but that didn’t stop the confrontation from heating up. Chino had Leticia and the kids pack, and with nowhere to go and on foot they left. He said anything was better than having his family ‘around that bitch’. A few weeks later I learned how they had went to go stay with a relative of Leticia’s, then went back up to Stockton. And to think there had been talk of us all getting a bigger and better place together. Yeah right!

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With the beginning of 1994 Color Me Badd finally had their sophomore album Time and Chance released. By now everybody in the house liked C.M.B. because they had gotten used to me playing their first album so much. During the brief time Chino and his wife and kids were there at the house I had decided to get a tattoo. I thought C.M.B.’s entitled song Slow Motion Lover would be a cool thing to have, so my choice was to get that done on my upper right arm. (I know… I know... Here I was calling myself a Slow Motion Lover, when in actuality time was going in slow motion when it came to me really ever becoming one!)

The plan was to have Mom do the tattoo homemade since she had done it before. After hearing everyone’s opinion I thought I could handle it better than a tattoo gun. (Oops, I mean machine. Some people can be quite pompous in the tattoo world) So with the tip of a needle wrapped in thread and some India Ink, Mom began to poke away. For preparation I was willing to do just about anything. I wasn’t a drinker, smoker or drug user, but if something was going to help decrease the pain I was willing to do just a one night stand with it. The only thing we ended up getting access to was some weed and a 40 oz. bottle of Old English 800. Well, neither one really helped. The beer got me light-headed, and the marijuana just did what it had done back when I was a little kid. Got me real hungry. That was the last dance I ever had with Mary Jane.

The letters were in Old English and after the SLO and some of the M, which had taken a couple of hours, Mom’s hand got tired, as well as my nerves being tired of all the pain. We decided to continue later and that night I kept having dreams of mouth-watering food. The next day, after realizing it would probably take a couple of more days at the rate we were going as well as a lot more pain, I decided to hold off with finishing it. Well, the finishing never came and as of this writing I’m still just marked with SLO and three lines for the M below it. Yes, of course I regret it now, and someday may have the stain of temporary stupidity lasered off.

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I had the habit of going through the TV Guide a few days in advance to see if and when C.M.B was scheduled to appear on television shows. Because of their new album they had quite a few appearances lined up, and one was for a performance on The Arsenio Hall Show. Since we were living there in the L.A. area now I wanted to go to the taping, so I called to find out the procedure. Since you had to line up early in the morning for tickets I had planned to go the night before to ensure a good seat. Jazmin had become a fan of the group’s music too, but she was only twelve, and since you had to be at least eighteen to attend a taping it didn'‘t seem possible to bring her along.

Mom decided to call the show and try to see if an exception could be made. She explained how Jazmin was developmentally delayed and how much of an affect the group had on her. The lady at the show’s office said she couldn’t promise anything, but would try to ask if arrangements could be made and that she’d probably get back to us in a day or two.

Five minutes later she called and said she had just spoken with Arsenio, and that he was inviting the whole family to come to the show, and afterwards have a private meet and greet with C.M.B! We were all ecstatic. I knew that if I kept pushing for it I’d one day meet this amazing quartet, and now thanks to Arsenio it was finally going to happen!

Five VIP seats had been taped off for us at the studio, and we were escorted in before the rest of the audience filed in.