Life
When I was a boy growing up in Jacksonville, Florida, my brothers and I had a friend our age. I’ll call him Ricky.
Ricky had a little brother, whom I’ll call Timmy.
Ricky and Timmy lived in a house down the street from ours. One particular Christmas around 1980 or 81 my brothers and I got an Atari 2600 with at least 10 new games, a bunch of other toys, and brand new clothes, which my mom charged on her credit card and paid back over the next ten years.
I remember being so excited, and I couldn’t wait to go out and tell everyone all that we got for Christmas.
My brothers and I went and visited our other friends, one house after the other, each showing off our new treasures. Then we went to Ricky and Timmy’s.
Walking into their house was strange. Immediately, the first thing that caught my attention was the floor, which was almost covered in grey sand. In their bedroom was a pile of old clothes that they used for a bed, and they had almost no furniture.
This was Christmas. Everything should be shimmering with lights and shiny decorations, with the smell of a Christmas tree and turkey or ham baking in the oven. Ricky and Timmy were alone in their house. Their mother wasn’t home. I’m not sure where she was on this Christmas day, but I do remember that they had presents.
Their presents weren’t like ours, with the smell of new clothes and toys, and the shine of freshly opened boxes and wrapping paper.
One of their presents was a board game that was torn on the corners, repaired with masking tape, and a small, black and white television with a coat hanger for an antenna. I don’t remember anything else.
I do remember that on a few occasions, Ricky climbed in our window of the porch that was made into a bedroom where we kept our Atari. He’d be in there about six in the morning playing video games.
Ricky was in jail about ten years ago, where my younger brother, who’d gotten into some trouble, saw him. Ricky said his little brother, Timmy, died of malnutrition. I’m not sure what happened to his mother.
I tell this story to remind myself, that no matter how rough I think my life can be at times, there are always those who have it rougher.
Grace and peace,
Johnny
2 comments:
Wow...that is so true.
Sometimes I have no idea why God chose me to have it so easy...I sometimes think that something terrible must be coming because there's no way I can have it this good...but I guess I should just shut up and be thankful. Thanks for reminding me of that.
My brother, Ronnie, called me yesterday after reading my blog. He and I have talked on a few ocassions about these two friends.
I didn't add in the blog that Ricky was often made fun of in school because of his clothes and that he was one of those kids that were always picked on.
I hope he's having a better life.
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