|
|||
|
Emerging from the woods on the outskirts of our subdivision, a mysterious character of mythological proportions was how I remembered, Jay.
As a BMX bike riding, pre-teen that dreamt of being the next Dr. J, anyone who possessed an ounce of what I thought was cool took on heroic shape in my eyes. Jay was at least a couple years older than I was, 13 maybe and he rode a BMX bike of his own design, unlike anyone else in my neighborhood. On one occasion, I remember Jay riding a Wheelie for a 1/2-mile down a strip we had marked off for just such a purpose. We were optimistic, hopeful and confident when Jay was around so when he said he could do it, whatever it was, we did our part as assistants and attendants. Jay's skill however on the bike was second only to his skating ability. The one skating rink in our midwestern town was routinely packed every Friday and Saturday by local youth. Jay would arrive as he did to our neighborhood, out of nowhere immediately commanding attention. Being able to skate well meant instant cool points, Jay was not only a great skater but also the fastest speed skater in the rink, and every weekend he proved his mettle in a take on all comers race. But, I know now that Jay's aloof coolness was his alone and we could not have pulled it off if we tried. I wonder still to this today where Jay lived and what his life was like away from our neighborhood. Even though he came to our houses, we never went to his house. The furthest anyone from the neighborhood went with Jay was the edge of the woods on the outskirts of the subdivision when it was time for Jay to leave. There were rumors from sad to outlandish. One said that his father was an alcoholic and he was ashamed and when he did come around it was to escape his father’s wrath. Another rumor said that he was the son of an international spy and the reason he stopped coming around was that he was selected to go into spy training, that being the family business and all. In true Jay style after about two years of coming around from time to time, Jay just stopped coming to our neighborhood. Perhaps, he moved on to more interesting and challenging adventures. A more realistic answer is that Jay probably just grew up and riding wheelies for BMX groupies as we were, didn't hold the same appeal. The mystery remains surrounding Jay’s identity after these many years but a heroic truth accompanies my memories about Jay. He was an original not like anyone just his self and this is what made his coolness so enduring these many years later. I think if I could talk to Jay, today he would say, “If you want to be remembered be yourself, that’s what’s really cool.” Go To Page: 1 2
The copyright of the article Hero Lessons in African-American Authors is owned by . Permission to republish Hero Lessons in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.
For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to Walter Benefield's African-American Authors topic, please visit the Discussions page. |
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||