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Notes from a Boy @ The Window

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Notes from a Boy @ The Window

Tag Archives: Family Drama

The Start of the “Shalom Aleichem” Years

13 Tuesday Apr 2021

Posted by decollins1969 in 1, Boy @ The Window, Christianity, culture, Eclectic, eclectic music, Hebrew-Israelite, Jimme, Marriage, Mount Vernon New York, music, New York City, Politics, Pop Culture, race, Religion, Youth

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Tags

Boy @ The Window Years, Cults, Family Drama, Friendships, Social Suicide


Primary Names of God in Hebrew, October 2018. (https://www.chabad.org).

This week 40 years ago brought an avalanche of changes to my already unstable world. I wouldn’t have noticed the instability, though. I believed my bubble of Mount Vernon and the NYC was pretty stable back in mid-April 1981. I had friends who I could talk to and debate with all day. I saw my father about once every three weeks. I was starting to get into mainstream popular music, and had some interest in sports. I liked a few girls here and there. I was doing well in school. I was doing well in general, with my stepfather separated from my mother for the previous six months. So well that I’d forgotten my sexual assault trauma from 1976. So well that even the bullies around my block hadn’t tried to stone me to death or beat my face in for nearly seven months.

But Maurice came back as “Judah ben Israel,” and the brief years of worldly enlightenment came to a crashing halt. I tell this story in Boy @ The Window this way:

This was the religion my stepfather converted to after he and Mom had separated. In the period before his return, my stepfather had been working on Mom, attempting to convince her that he was now a good man and could be trusted as the man of our house. He loved Jehovah, had stopped smoking, and had learned how to love himself. And he had changed his name to Judah ben Israel, not legally, mind you. The name literally means ‘Lion of God and of Israel,’ and referred to my stepfather as a royal descendant of Jacob/Israel, the immediate father of the Israelite people. It was in this context that my stepfather gained a sense of himself and control over his world, which was what convinced Mom to end her separation from him.

I was so confused that my brain felt like it was on a carnival ride. Really? This is what we are doing now? We’re still a family? What about my dad?, I thought. But people desperate for an identity that defies the beliefs of White folk often take desperate, cultist measures.

This week 40 years ago, Maurice worked on me and my brother Darren to take this Hebrew-Israelite bullshit seriously, which meant threatening us with ass-whuppins if he found out we weren’t wearing our kufis or yarmulkes at school.

The next step, of course, was our acceptance of the Hebrew-Israelite religion. This wasn’t exactly a process in which free will was involved. Our mother told us that this would be our religion ‘for the rest of our lives.’ Then our stepfather came to explain this ‘way of life’ to us, and we put on our white, multi-holed, circular kufis for the first time. I had no idea what Mom and Maurice had pushed us into. A part of me was on the outside looking in, thinking, This is crazy! But as nutty as this sudden conversion seemed, I convinced myself into acceptance. We were already the children of one divorce, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see another one so soon. Darren, to his credit, played along as if being a Hebrew-Israelite was just a role in a school play.

I went to the school the following Monday with my bright white kufi on top of my head for the first time. Talk about committing social suicide! The expressions on my friends’ faces, from completed stunned and disgusted to eyes that revealed what their set faces attempted to conceal. I was immediately an outcast, especially as far as my best friend Starling was concerned. Once I explained to some of them what had occurred the week before, they seemed to get it, even if they kept me at ulna’s length. They still said “Hey Donald. Wassup?” the way they did before.

Not Starling and some of our mutuals. He saw it as my betrayal, not just of him, but of God himself. Such are the inflated egos of children of preacher-men. His weeks of silence led to a fight (which he won) and the end of our two-year friendship.

But the friendships and my within-normal-levels weirdness came to a crashing halt the moment I decided to allow myself to be a canvas my mother and stepfather used to express their eccentric yearnings for identity. It was the worst three and a half years of my life, with child abuse, another sexual assault, the fall into welfare poverty, suicidal ideations and one suicide attempt included.

My brother Darren handled the situation so much better than me. “Darren, to his credit, played along as if being a Hebrew-Israelite was just a role in a school play,” is what I wrote. He only wore his kufi at 616 and whenever he was out and visible to my stepfather’s peeps. Otherwise, the hat was off his head. But then again, Darren attended The Clear View School, where no one would have cared what he wore.

Yes, it is important to remember the past. If only because it is a reminder that, pandemic or not, there have been worse times in my life. I’m so glad that I haven’t worn a kufi in nearly 37 years.

Marriage, 13 Years In

28 Sunday Apr 2013

Posted by decollins1969 in 1, culture, Eclectic, Marriage, Youth

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Angelia N. Levy, Eloping, Family, Family Drama, Mother-Son Relationship, National Cathedral, Romance and Finance, Wedding, Wedding Anniversary


Marriage Day picture, National Cathedral, Washington, DC, April 28, 2000.

Marriage Day picture (cropped), National Cathedral, Washington, DC, April 28, 2000.

Friday, April 28, 2000. Angelia and I exchanged vows and became husband and wife. Or, to be honest, partners on a journey with lots of ups and down, twists and turns, and I don’t knows. That’s really what any serious relationship is. It is journey where the outcome is not always certain, the footing isn’t always sure, and what you thought you knew about yourself and your partner turns out to only be a tip of an iceberg.

We married in ’00, but we didn’t have a wedding. At least one defined by family and friends. We eloped. I couldn’t go through another event in which my family — my mother especially — could ruin the occasion. And with our families not being of any means, scattered between Pittsburgh, New York, Georgia and Florida, the most expensive piece of the wedding would’ve been flights and hotels. I’m talking immediate families, not extended. Between that and my experience at my doctoral graduation in ’97 (see my “Post-Doctoral Life” post from May ’08), I couldn’t spend thousands of dollars of our own money on a ceremony much more for them than for us.

So when I suggested that we should secretly elope, Angelia was more than happy to say yes. Thank God we were on the same page! We turned that day into a wedding, minus family and friends of course. We became tourists in our own town, and spent most of the afternoon at the National Cathedral, taking pictures and getting others to take our picture (like the one above).

We’re thirteen years in, and even on the worst of days and with the worst of arguments, I think it’s been well worth it. Do I know what’s in store for this journey in the future? Of course not! I’m not sure about the next six months, much less what life will look like for us as our son slowly approaches preteen status. But all in all, it’s been fun, weird and full of love, of good and great moments. All I can do is hope that these outweigh any storms coming our way.

Thanksgiving Family Drama

23 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by decollins1969 in 1, Boy @ The Window, culture, Eclectic, Marriage, Mount Vernon New York, Pop Culture

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Tags

7440 Monticello Street. Turkey Day, Eat'n Park, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationships, German Chocolate Cake, Pittsburgh, Sister-in-Law, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving 2001


German Chocolate Cake, Thanksgiving Dessert, November 22, 2012. (Donald Earl Collins).

Thanksgiving Day ’12 will go down as the year I finally managed to balance quality and volume for me and my small family of wife and finicky nine-year-old son. I did nearly all of the cooking on Wednesday, starting with the turkey and stuffing at 7:30 am, and ending with mushroom gravy at 11:45 pm. In between, I dropped my son off for school, ran some errands, finished the turkey and stuffing, went for a 5.4-mile run, made the mac and cheese — as well as steak and butternut squash soup (from scratch) for dunch — and finally showered.

Then I made the collard/turnip greens mixture, seasoned ham with brown sugar and butter, super sugary Kool-Aid (first time I’ve made it in two years), iced tea with lemon and German chocolate cake in quick succession. In between, I also made dinner for my son, sorted and wrapped fifteen pounds of meat for the freezer, and did another round of grading for one of my classes. All in all, a very busy day, but it made the mashed potatoes and setting the table yesterday look like nothing by comparison.

Most of my Thanksgivings as an adult have been pretty peaceful. I’ve actually only been back to Mount Vernon for three — count them, three — Thanksgivings since I left for college and Pittsburgh in ’87. One was in ’87, then after the 616 fire in ’95 (see my post “The Fire This Time” from April ’08), and then with me and my family in ’06. At these gatherings, folks were too busy eating to get into serious issues like acne problems of whether someone’s cake was made from scratch or not.

But at my wife’s family’s Thanksgiving gatherings — which I attended or served as sous chef from ’96-’99 and in ’01 — the above issues and more became part of the annual Turkey Day in Pittsburgh. The most elaborate and long-winded of such dinners in Homewood-Brushton was in ’01. It was going to be a doozy right from the start, as I’d agreed to cook virtually all of the Thanksgiving dinner for an estimated twenty-five guests (it turned out to be twenty-eight in all). Me and my wife flew in from DC that Tuesday and wasted no time in buying everything we’d need to make her family’s version of a Thanksgiving meal possible.

Wife’s family and Noah in Pittsburgh, July 15, 2004. (Donald Earl Collins).

My sister-in-law flew in from San Diego the following day, and wasn’t exactly to see us. Or at least, was standoff-ish with me. It was only the third time we’d ever met, and the first time me and my wife had seen her since ’96 (and since we’d married in April ’00). She wasn’t happy having to share her sister with me, among the other issues she had back then.

She found fault with me making a chocolate cake via Duncan Hines instead of completely from scratch, even though I’d also made a twenty-two pound turkey, corn bread, five pounds of collard and turnip greens, five pounds of potatoes, a gallon’s worth of turkey mushroom gravy and stuffing with sausage that Wednesday. It was one of a series of not-so-charming comments from her that week.

Thanksgiving Day wasn’t much better, for us, for my sister-in-law, or for my wife’s extended family. Just after 12:30 pm, “G,” one of my wife’s cousin-in-laws, showed up with his two teenage kids, four hours before we had scheduled ourselves to serve dinner. He reminded me of my now late ex-stepfather, loud, out-of-shape, and ready to eat or fight at a moment’s notice. Between him and my brooding sister-in-law, I was happy to be in a hot kitchen or down in the basement getting furniture while finishing the preparations for dinner.

The dinner itself was a hit, as in-laws, cousins, nieces and nephews went for seconds and thirds between 4:45 and 6:30-ish. Then G suddenly became really loud and obviously angry while watching the Dallas game in the crowded living room. One of his kids had said as a joke to the then forty-nine year-old, “You’re so old, you were born before they built the railroads!” You know, stuff anyone over thirty hears from their kids at least once a week. But for nearly an hour and a half, G smouldered, then yelled, then smouldered some more, as cousins and in-laws tried to step in. He disowned his kids right in front of at least a dozen family members.

The crescendo was between G and his nephew “AA,” the third family member who had attempted to end the situation. AA was telling G to go home, and even offered to take him there. The rest is family strife gold and history.

“Don’t you EVER come to my house!,” G yelled.

“I love you, and…” AA responded.

“If you come to MY house, I’m gonna put you in a body bag!,” G hollered with a death stare.

“Then I’m gonna be in the back of your mind for the rest of your life!,” AA yelled, a bit hurt.

Eat’n Park logo, March 2011. (http://www.printablecoupons.us/).

While that was going on, my sister-in-law suddenly complained to the female contingent at the dining room table, “They never pick up the phone! They screen all of their calls!” That was in reference to me and my wife.

By 9 pm, it was all over, with two disowned kids, a crazy middle-aged man and a gloomy sister-in-law as part of the package deal that was Thanksgiving ’01. All that was left was an awkward Eat’n Park lunch with my sister-in-law that Friday — not exactly “the place for smiles” that day — and her suddenly booking an early return ticket for San Diego for Saturday morning. We had paid for her original round-trip flight, and her new flight cost more than the original ticket. She really wanted to get away!

So despite how tired I’ve been since Thanksgiving morning, I’ll take the peace of mind that comes with a small family and a thankful gathering any day over Thanksgiving ’01 and family drama.

Boy @ The Window: A Memoir

Boy @ The Window: A Memoir

Places to Buy/Download Boy @ The Window

There's a few ways in which you can read excerpts of, borrow and/or purchase and download Boy @ The Window. There's the trade paperback edition of Boy @ The Window, available for purchase via Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/Boy-Window-Donald-Earl-Collins/dp/0989256138/

There's also a Kindle edition on Amazon.com. The enhanced edition can be read only with Kindle Fire, an iPad or a full-color tablet. The links to the enhanced edition through Apple's iBookstore and the Barnes & Noble NOOK edition are below. The link to the Amazon Kindle version is also immediately below:

scr2555-proj697-a-kindle-logo-rgb-lg

Boy @ The Window on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Boy-The-Window-Memoir-ebook/dp/B00CD95FBU/

iBookstore-logo-300x100

Boy @ The Window on Apple's iBookstore: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/boy-the-window/id643768275?ls=1

Barnes & Noble (bn.com) logo, June 26, 2013. (http://www.logotypes101.com).

Boy @ The Window on Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/boy-the-window-donald-earl-collins/1115182183?ean=2940016741567

You can also add, read and review Boy @ The Window on Goodreads.com. Just click on the button below:

Boy @ The Window

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