My neighborhood

The Sporting Life

How does our neighborhoods influence a child's life and choices?

The phenomenon of black America wherein we watch fine as wine black men and darker than a ripe berry women sport fashionable clothes and lifestyles that children gasp and try to emulate was called the Sporting Life.  Today the newest generation are our rappers.  I tried to mirror the clothes and the swagger.  The Sporting Life of our parents generation allowed the black culture grow men and women of means.  Our business elite, homeowners and the educated street folks who went on to higher learning.  On 169th Street in the Bronx there were 2 cleaners, 2 barbers, laundry mat, grocery stores, restaurants and a funeral parlor and, of course, The ever faithful bars.  Each of these businesses shared community rights to being "black owned".  That was my neighborhood. 

Ms. Cook, never knew if she had a husband, owned the building that housed her funeral home and "the Sporting Life Golf and Bar".  Before Tiger, these black men claimed to play golf every Sunday.  As I grew older I realized they may have gone to golf course for a few holes but the real fun began when they began their "extraordinary" stories of golf prowess which Tiger could never have competed with then or now.

In vivid color I remember watching the "zanzies", hustlers and others walk down those steps.  Fleeting dreams, high hopes and daily rejections.  Women in finest furs, just fox tails, but to a young girl they were faaabulous.

REALITY

These were number runners, ladies of the evening, wives, girlfriends and brothers or sisters wanting a good time, play the dozens or just stepping out.  When my chance came at the ripe age of 18...I was fly, I was ready.  I took my cute little butt over to Sterling's Den on Boston Road prepared to have the Saturday night I had waited years to step into.  My swaggering hips was going to catch the eye of some fine as wine man.  Oh yeah!  The reality, which I was not prepared for, smoky room, the smell of liquor, bodies and fried food.  The reality was those fine as wine, Cadillac driving men were potbellied old ass men, not the fine young studs I thought to meet.  Reality, everyone was a friend of my mama's and my stepfather.  In fact my stepfather saw me come in the door and waited his time for maximum embarrassment.  They marched my butt to the door so fast and kicked me and my teenage fantasy to the curb.  Years later I learned that my wonderful mom in her wisdom announced to the entire black male population in our community that no one had a reason to ever speak with Sheila and if you did you needed to come through her!  Ain't no pedophiles in this here girls life.  That is Black Woman Power.  Mary Lee, businesswoman, mother, divorcee and a Bama girl by way of being a Georgia Peach stood 5'1" tall but to me she was a giant in her community and she also had a wicked right hook. 

In conclusion, how did my neighborhood affect me to separate fantasy from reality, look beyond the obvious and stay the hell out of bars.

Sister in Spirit