Be Allstar! Never Dimming Your Shine.
It’s Monday and my graduation is tonight! Mr. Guarcity sent me a graduation present lastnight with a card written in large black letters saying “We Made It!” I never met Mr. Guarcity but he kept his promise making sure that I always had the best bed to lay my head, clean clothes to attend school, fresh food from the foster home cooks and a bag to store all my school supplies. Mr. Guarcity said that he used to play in a band with my parents who gave me up because they weren’t ready for a responsibility outside their music. He told me that my Father wrote songs for my Mother while she sung lead for The Delfunks. Mr. Guarcity played the piano and drums in The Delfunks. I received my first gift from him at age seven. It was a yellow hula hoop. He told me that I would need it anytime I wanted to change the rhythm of events surrounding me - that all I had to do was jump in and move my hips while the music from the sand inside the hula hoop created its own tune. He called me Hip-Hop, one, because I could used my hips to escape any troubling mood and two, no matter how many homes I hopped to and from, he’d always be there to make sure I got the best bed to lay my head, clean clothes to attend school, fresh food from the foster home cooks, and a bag to store all my school supplies.
My second gift was the one sent last night. Inside were a pair of yellow Allstar converse that he said was from my Mother. To this day, I have no idea the correlation between my Father and the yellow hula hoop. But, I trust Mr. Guarcity. He’s been there since I first stepped onto 7198 Dreamsnatcher Rd. His letters were the real gift because they always arrived on time. “Don’t hate those kids that are bad or mean to you. Hate does nothing to change your environment. Your only responsibility is to stand up for and be yourself. Be the leader that you are. Shift your focus. Jump in your hula hoop and create a new rhythm,” the last paragraph of his letter read. The movement kept my anger and anxiety down, until one day my hula hoop was stolen and I got into a big altercation with one of the girls from the group home. I hated being there. The girls at the home called her “Potion,” but I didn’t call her anything but “That big girl.” I waited until she went to sleep to put “Elmers Glue” on her hands and feet for stealing my hula hoop. Then I climbed to her top bunk and removed my hula hoop from under her blanket. She hardly slept in the top bunk. Potion just told us girls that no one could share the bed with her because we may wet it. Nailani and Vitri became my best friends from that night. They never seen anyone stand up to Potion and were afraid. We laughed when Potion woke up screaming because she couldn’t move out her bed. Her hair, face, neck and pajamas were saturated with glue. “That big girl” never messed with us again.
I’ll be 18 next Saturday and it’s time for Nailani, Vitri and I to transition. Nailani and Vitri have the same social worker. We discussed getting an apartment and then going to college but Mrs. Sax told us if we wanted to stay together that we should apply to the same college or colleges that were in the same area - that way we could room together - and Mrs. Sax was right! I put on my Black cap and gown, yellow converse and placed my New York Fashion University acceptance letter in my pocket. Nailani walked into the room in star studded stilettos and said that Vitri needed help with her hair. “It’s 5:30 Nailani, graduation is in an hour…how does she have it now? Is it out, curled…oh goodness, let’s go….Virti, we have 15 minutes and we need to go. Let’s pull this gorgeous mane back and hit the road,” I said. Nailani worked on Vitri’s eye shadow while I gave her a slick ponytail with lose curls. We stuck together. And just like that we looked good and ready to strut across the stage to get our diplomas.
Nailani rented a cream convertible and took us to the ceremony cite. Mrs. Sax met us at the lobby entrance and began taking photos of us. “Ya’ll ladies make mama so proud.” “Thank-you, Mrs. Sax,” we laughed and huddled in a group hug. Mrs. Sax was our elementary and high school counselor who frequented us as her children of the village. Her wall was filled with art and a sculpted tree detailing a timeline of our accomplishments through pictures, awards and poems. She did this to ensure that we had roots beyond the walls of the group home - a place that we could track a solid beginning, middle and vortex from which we took flight.
The auditorium was filled with faculty, family and friends. We wondered what the space would sound like when it was our time to walk - loud roars, claps and shouts or squeaky screams from Mrs. Sax and “Strut Girl,” from each other? Either way, we were happy that we made it!
On our way to “Sophisticated & Snazzy Bar And Grille,” we received a call from Ms. Potcher - our group home attendant. We knew it was her because she called each of us and only let the phone ring before connecting to voicemail to then hang up. That was her pattern. Keep us girls guessing what she wanted. She thrived from causing paranoia and making simple matters seem urgent. We shouted “BLOCK,” once we realized it was her and blocked her number from calling us.
“Excuse me ma’am but the man at the bar asked that I give this to you,” the waiter said. I opened the card and told the waiter “Thank-you.” “Your Mother and Father will be proud. You looked beautiful walking across that stage, Hip-Hop! Keep this in your pocket and save this for your college graduation.” Mr. Gaurcity? I quickly turned around but no one was there. The letter was a signed trust fund that I couldn’t touch until age 22. It was a trust for $35,000. “Somebody has a secret admirer,” Nailani jokingly sang. “Girl, no…it’s not like that…it’s from Mr. Guarcity.” “THE GUARCITY?” “Yes.” Nailani looked in astonishment. They’d witness his timely gifts and letters and would jokingly say “Our social worker ain’t sh**t!”
Heading back to the group home Nailiani told us that she received a letter from a woman she believed was her sister - an older sister - and she was thinking about moving to High Point, NC for the summer. “Okay….um,” Vitri and I said with hesitant excitement. “What about ‘New York Arts & Animation Conservatory’….Your going to change your plans for one summer and a sister that you don’t even know? We’re your sisters, Nailani. Let her come see you while you’re in college, why go to her? That’s not fair!” “Guys, she didn’t force this decision on me. I just thought it would be cool to connect with someone from my real family.” “You don’t have to explain yourself to us,” Virtri said while meeting my eyes with silence. “Lani, I can’t tell you what to do but don’t throw away your dreams and goals for someone who hasn’t sent you you a holiday or birthday card - not to mention, she hasn’t even called!!!” I said.
After arriving at the group home, still in our cap and gown, we packed our bags. Virtri fell asleep at the foot of my bed and Nailani laid on the floor next to my bed. When I woke up there was a photo of the three of us on the bleachers acting silly. “I love you guys, but I have to see where this connection may lead. I promise you and V if it’s not good, I will enroll in the following fall semester.” She was gone. Vitri walked in the room in a towel and shower cap and asked “Where’s Nailani?” Waving the picture in front of her, I told her she left. Vitri read the back of the photo and flopped on the bed. The room was quiet as a bus driver parked a school bus outside the group home, gathering the belongings of the new children moving in. I picked up my hula hoop and told Vitri to jump in. Swaying our hips to keep the hula hoop from falling, we fell to the floor and laughed. I grabbed it with Vitri’s back pressed up against mine and quietly sang “No time to pout or wine, but shine.” She joined in with a sisterly embrace.
Mrs. Sax honked her horn to let us know of her arrival. We grabbed our bags, plane tickets to New York City and drove off! never looking behind.
Written By: SADE E. MOORE™