FOOL THAT I AM

There are four of us--my three sisters then me. I'm somewhere between all of them, with two older sisters and one younger. The saying goes beware of those who walk in three's, and to that, I firmly agree. See, because I was the only male child, they spared no expense in making sure I knew that they didn't take shit off of anyone. Except for my younger sister, I tried the bullying thing for awhile, but she beat me at my own game, talking trash and getting me into trouble on a regular basis by letting the tears go once mama got home, knowing good and well there wasn't anything wrong with her. But now it's years later, and here we are, all grown and doing well for ourselves. It's no surprise that men learn how to be better men from women.

If it weren't for them, I wouldn't know the first thing about respect. They demanded it! None of that lazy business of thinking my life came before theirs. Talk about equality, everyone did everything, and I find myself even now happy for all of the influences that our mother directly and indirectly exposed us to. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, catching public transportation around Chicago...we all had to know the same things. Beyond that, she was a cool mom, too. How many other black kids in the projects could sing the whole "Aja" album by Steely Dan in the same breath as Rapper's Delight? We were no strangers to Maria Maldour, Marian Anderson or Nina Simone, either. She'd have disco parties for us where she would take a flashlight and shine it on us while shaking it to give the feel of a strobe light. It was my mom who taught me how to do the football, which I will break out with at any given moment.

It has always been music and laughter that have kept us close. I used to collect joke books with such titles as "101 Pickle Jokes" and "1001 of the Best Jokes This Side of the Mason Dixon Line" and then have the unmitigated gall to think that they would listen to me read each joke from each book OUT LOUD. They conspired together and rid me of that phase, but by then, I'd memorized most of them and realized that if nothing else, I was corny enough to be considered funny. My resolution for 2004 was to develop my sense of humor more--better delivery, better material (I actually put that in writing, too). Did it work? Let's see, I haven't been stabbed yet and I haven't gotten the "talk to the hand" movement from those that I lure into my world of jabs and jokes. So either I'm really good or not worth it. But my sisters and I laugh all the time. We usually start conversations off with strolls down memory lane--like "do you remember when mama gave us that curl right before we went to Arkansas that summer? What the hell was she thinking?"

They all have made me laugh entirely too much, though some of the ways in which they got a joke off were a little cruel. Like years ago, my sister whose closest to me told me to put my tongue on a 9-volt battery because it tickled. My uncle watched the whole thing go down, and after the shocking sensation he asked me just as plainly, "what kind of idiot are you to do that...that's a battery...it couldn't possibly tickle your tongue." We still laugh at that to this day, as now she tricks her own children into falling for that one. I call that motherly love to the fullest.

We weren't supposed to be this close, though. See, they're women, and their jobs at birth were to take care of their father, help mother with the younger one's and hope for husbands so that they could be second and third for the rest of their lives (second to their husbands and third to their children), but not these women in my family. They didn't accept any of that madness and when any man gave them too much, they were up and done. One of my sister's can love'em and leave'em and not feel anything about it, even when they're outside her building with gifts. My other sister is known for KANTFO (Knockin' A N**** The Fuck Out) for no reason at all. My youngest sister carries a can of beets inside a sweatsock in her purse, ready, willing and able to do damage on men, women and children. Together, these three women have raised me and their own children as well, and as hard as it is just to get around to all of them, I know because of who their mother's are, they'll always be alright.

So what's with all the sap, you wonder? Well, one of my nieces had a sleepover last Friday, so all the siblings got together at my sister's, and when I say that we partied, we did the fool! Breakdancing, routines, and pictures that prove how nuts we can be when we get together. It was great. We sang every song we could think of while the children laid out in the living room braiding hair and watching scary movies were subjected to our soulful renditions of "Baby Come To Me" by James and Patti, "Oh Sherri" by Steve Perry, "De Ja Vu" by Teena Marie, and other assorted tunes that we MURDERED! The kids in the living room laughed all night at us, and when the breakdancing competition started, it was on. I tried to spin on my knee like the chick in Breakin' but my legs are too long and I kept hitting the stove and shit, so I stopped. But my sister whose shorter than I am not only did the knee spin, but did the head spin, getting one turn around before falling over into laughing fits. I couldn't believe it, but that's what can happen after a child's party in my family. That's the way it was back in the day--your parents sent all of you away from the kitchen while they laughed, smoked and talked shit, but just like then, some of the children kept coming to the back to see what was going on. The riverdancing contest between my youngest sister and I, though, was the funniest. She watches public television a lot, so she's seen that riverdancing special way too many times, but she's got a routine from it, which she debuted last Friday night. The kicks on that child...amazing...

After singing all we could, we turned the radio on and danced to music off the spanish language radio station. By that time, the kids in the front sent word to us that we were crazy and that we needed to really stop it, but we didn't bother with them, we were having a good time. Besides, they're lucky we didn't go give all them the drunken-hines speech (those little talks that only seem to come about when there's liquor involved, and its usually some god-awful hour of morning, and you can't get out of listening unless you want a black eye).

I love them all...I wonder can we all make it to the summer without wanting to cut each other...we'll see...

As of three days ago, I now have four grandnieces, ten nieces, six nephews and sons & godchildren across the midwest (and Atlanta--HEY PURPLE!). Shantell Winter Echo, welcome to the world...all of your aunts and uncles are crazy and you have your grandmother and her three siblings to thank for that...good luck, baby girl!