As Spring brings with it more sunshine, longer days, The Beat Within is back again with another incredible issue for your reading pleasure through the extra hours of daylight. Our longtime friend OT, is back today, with a heartfelt story about asking for help from others. A topic that we can all relate to as I know it is often hard for anyone to ask for help. OT really lays it out in a way we can probably all relate to with the daily struggle.
Memories From My Adolescence
I remember when I first started high school, I didn’t have any money for lunch. They weren’t handing out free lunches anymore at that time, even though I knew I qualified, but whatever. I remember that a slice of pizza cost two bucks at school. I remember all my peers would buy pizza or burgers from the money that they would get from their parents, and I didn’t have any money to eat.
I felt embarrassed that I didn’t have enough money to eat, and I remember that my homeboys and homegirls would be like, “Hey, Casper, you want a slice of pizza? You want a burger?”
And I would always say, “No.”
I knew that it wasn’t their responsibility to feed me. How am I gon’ take food or spend money that their parents gave them? I remember asking my mom for money for lunch, and she said, “For what?”
“For food, mom,” I would say.
“I don’t have any money, Omar.”
“Okay mom, I understand.”
I took her word for it. I then asked my aunt, but I felt ashamed asking my aunt, because it wasn’t my mom that bought me school supplies or my backpack, it was my aunt. I felt like she had no obligation nor any responsibility to keep giving me money. She had her own kids. She had already gone out of her way to buy me school supplies and provide me with groceries, which included breakfast and dinner.
But one day I mustered up the courage to ask, because I knew that I was running out of options. Her son wasn’t in high school yet and she didn’t know that the free lunch we were getting in elementary school and in middle school would eventually run out once you hit high school. So, I asked her for money, and she told me, “I can’t give you money mijo, because I pay for the groceries in the house. Your mom doesn’t give me a penny. I pay for your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
She proceeded to tell me to hold out on my hunger all day at school and to just come home to eat lunch after school. She wasn’t wrong for saying what she said. She had a point. But there’s a problem that no one could comprehend.
School started at 8am. I ate breakfast at 6:30am, because I had to get on the bus that would take like thirty to forty minutes to get to school. So, if I got out at 2:45 I would be getting home like at 3:30 or sometimes 4pm because for some reason the bus was always packed after school. And when I mean packed, it looked like sardines packed in a can.
So honestly, how many of us youngsters, well not us, I’m no longer a youngster, but how can any regular kid, or human being go 8 or 9 hours without eating anything at all? That was the last freaking time I asked for help. I decided and resorted to selling drugs so I could eat at school, because at the time I was too young to even get a work permit.
Your parents always have to sign off on your work permit and my mom never signed off on it because she didn’t want to claim my earnings on her taxes because like every family that lives paycheck to paycheck, they look forward for tax season to collect the most money possible that uncle Sam returns to all the low income families. So I couldn’t even make money in a legit way like I originally wanted to.
I would eventually turn to selling drugs, would eventually help feed me, clothe me, and eventually by my first car. But this decision which I thought was the solution to my problem at the time, would eventually take me down an even darker path filled with more challenges and obstacles.
Now, I’m not telling you this story because I blame my Aunt or my mom. We are first generation immigrants. I knew they were struggling too. I didn’t want to be a part of the problem, but I wanted to be a part of the solution.
The problem was that maybe I DIDN’T choose the right solution. Because let me tell you something ladies and gentlemen, every problem has a solution, and every problem has more than one solution. There’s a correct solution and there’s a wrong solution. I chose the wrong solution.
So I say this to point out, that whenever you come across a problem and you want to find the best solution, remember there’s always a right way and a wrong way. Make sure you take the right way because the wrong way could lead you into more problems than what you originally started with.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Sometimes, listening to sound advice may give you the wisdom to make sure you choose the right decision. I now humbly exit, much love to all you readers and writers. The Beat keeps going and going.
Thank you OT for sharing your love with us all. You put a smile on many of our faces and we are grateful to have you in our lives too. All right friends, stay in touch, The Beat Within wants to hear from you, always, with love and respect.
Thanks for pointing out that there are often a few different ways to solve a problem. We should always try to consider all the options, weigh the consequences, and try to find the true path to the best decision for our future, for your future.
The future of The Beat Within continues but it has been challenging to continue the legacy of my beloved husband David Inocencio, big shoes to fill and hard to fly solo after working for so many years as the dynamic husband/wife duo. I was humbled and honored to participate as a judge for the Contra Costa Poetry Slam, a job that David has done in the past and would have done again, but this year I received the opportunity instead. I was impressed by the strength, truth and honesty of the young men who expressed themselves so creatively. They also helped to lift up each other while working through the nerves and challenge of public speaking while sharing your heart. We hope you take time to read the Special Feature in this issue from our friends at the Contra Costa Juvenile Hall with the amazing poetry from the Aspen Unit.