I didnt raise you to be a little bastard.........

It is always with the deepest appreciation and absolute humility I go where ever I am sent. A hard life, yes, but so rewarding. I have the opportunity to visit and spend time with so many. Sometimes a few days, sometimes longer. Always gives me the warm and fuzzies when I hear from folks after I have left and they share with me what the relatives continue to do for them. These old ones who drive me around like a car, park me in someones' life. Get out and start healing. It certainly isn’t me. I'm just a person like anyone else. Nowhere close to being that enlightened or intelligent. Hell of a life I tell you. I get to witness so much beauty. Some damn ugly in the process, but even that they turn into something that heals.

I had a family not too long ago I visited with. They are quite wealthy and live an extremely comfortable life. Unlike what the majority of us live today. Living paycheck to paycheck trying to bring two ends of a rope together to meet in the middle and the rope is simply too damn short. Seems we'll never get a knot tied in it. These folks however didn't have those concerns. Much more than they needed, and they were aware of it. Good people, who understand it isn’t what you have, its what you give away. All except that evil self centered little bastard of a son they have.

Seventeen years old and knows it all already. He probably should get a job quick with all that knowing before he forgets some of it. Has everything he could ever want, whenever he could want it. Doesn’t even have to ask most times as his parents love him deeply, and want to give him the best they possibly can. Like any of us, with or without money. We want our children to have what we didn’t and we work our asses off trying to give it to them. Sometimes, as in this case, that’s the worst thing we can do. For some, they appreciate what we do for them. Its that appreciation that keeps us wanting to do more. Conversely, its those insolent, self indulgent petulant little shits who think they are entitled that give us a different feeling. The ones who feel we are their servants. They don’t need to work. They don’t need to pay bills, help out with the groceries. Absolutely nothing wrong with them physically. They are healthy, intelligent, capable. They know how to hustle, how to make a buck. Just don’t want to get off their lazy asses because someone is going to give it them. After all, the world owes them.

This young man was exactly like this. Had it all handed to him and believed it was supposed to be that way. He was born into this world to be served by everyone else, starting with his parents. No respect for anything. No respect for women. The gift that is woman. The power, the awe that is woman. Watching him push his girlfriend around, ordering her like she was a dog. It wouldn’t be long before he was raising his hands to her, beating her. She wasn’t a person to him. Not an individual with thoughts and feelings. She was something to be used, abused and taken advantage of him.

His folks and I talked, and they finally came to a conclusion. They had tried everything already, to no avail. The Ancestors told me what to tell them, I gave them what had been given to me. It was their choice to do it, and they did. It was hard for them, hurt them deeply. They understood what they had to do was out of love, even though their son didn’t. One afternoon they called him from his room, letting him know they were going for a ride. Of course he whined and cried, but they weren’t taking no for an answer. “Get your ass in the car and shut your mouth.” You can picture the look on his face when they walked outside and his brand new Escalade they had just bought him, was idling in the driveway and ready to go. Into his car they went, Dad driving much to the sons surprise, Mom in the passengers seat, him in the back. He had never ridden in the back of his car before. Hell, the only time he used the back of the car was to get high, drunk, or take advantage of a young girl.

They drove their son to the local Goodwill. Inside they picked out a complete outfit for him. Shoes, t-shirt and pants. They found an old pillow and an old blanket. All the while they didn’t say a word to him. He walked around that Goodwill, nose stuck up so high its a good thing it wasn’t raining or he would have drowned. Sour, ugly expression on his face. Nasty, biting expletives vomited out of his disrespectful mouth. The things this child said to his parents would make someones skin crawl. His folks ignored him, continuing with their shopping. Can you imagine? Super rich white folks, foul mouthed wretched child beside them, in a Goodwill? Damn and then some.

When they had found all they needed they headed back to the car. Their son demanded the keys but this time Dad wasn’t taking his shit. In no uncertain terms he told that boy to shut his damn mouth and get in the back. Something about his tone and facial expression let that boy know he best not argue. From the Goodwill they drove to the seediest, most run down part of the city they could find. Dilapidated buildings, hookers and crackheads on the corners. Cars up on blocks, homeless passed out where they could find a spot. They pulled over, and got out. They then had their son remove all his new fancy, pretty clothes they had paid for and handed him what they had bought him at the Goodwill. They handed him the blanket and pillow. His father told him, “Welcome to your new life. Tomorrow you turn eighteen. I have spent your entire life giving you everything I could and you don’t appreciate a damn bit of it. You're ugly, you’re rude. The things you say to your mother are revolting. The way you behave, treat other people, treat your girlfriend, is disgusting. This is not the boy I raised. I got you to eighteen, now you're your own. When you can grow up, learn humility, respect and honor, the door will be open. Its your home son, but its my damn house”. Then they got in his car and drove away.

It took about three weeks for that boy to find his way home. He doesn’t behave like the spoiled rotten little bastard he used to. He is respectful to women, to his mother and father. He appreciates all he has and goes out of his way to share, to do for others. No one really knows what happened to him on those streets. He doesn’t talk about it and when its mentioned he hangs his head, wont look at you. Whatever happened, it was ugly. It hurt, as much as it hurt his parents to do it. One thing is for sure, it got his attention. Seeing many of the kids I see today, I'm thinking this, or a similar version of it, might need to be done for them too.