Magic Moments

I guess it was supposed to be one of those sad moments. The turning point. Whatever. I remember my parents coming into my bedroom. They had been out to dinner or something, which was a pretty uncommon occurrence in my house. I assume that's where they were. Truth is, I have no idea. I was thinking of doing some quick research a la David Carr but decided against it. How I remember it is what matters.

Not that there is much to remember. They came into my bedroom (or did I go into their room?) and sat down and did the whole "we love you very much" routine and then told me they were splitting up.

I didn't really have a reaction. Actually, I didn't really express a reaction. I definitely had one. It was, "you mean this guy isn't going to live here anymore? I'm down with that."

My dad scared the shit out of me and scarred the shit out of me in those days.

What I do remember is being told it was OK to cry and me not crying. I later pretended to cry and asked if I could skip school tomorrow. My mother said no.

I was pretty pumped when my folks said they were splitting. I was not thrilled about moving to a crappy apartment across town where I was the only white kid. My mom probably could have stayed in the house or gotten more money out of my Dad for a better place but she was so short-sighted on that shit. My dad moved to the city and took a one bedroom on 23rd and Third.

That one year in Montclair was the best year in Jersey I had. With my dad gone, the clouds lifted. Suddenly I wasn't scared. I had friends. I was starting to live. I hung out with people. I smiled. I washed my hair. Girls even begin ever so slowly to notice me.

Of course, those fuckers decided a year later to not only get back together but to move to D.C. Never mind that my mom promised me we wouldn't move out of Montclair while I was still in school.

And that was when I cried.