The More you Know: Rev. Wade Watts

I first saw this video a few years ago. In it, former KKK leader Johnny Lee Clary details how he and his white-hooded cronies were trolled by the late Reverend Wade Watts, former president of the Oklahoma NAACP chapter. By maintaining a peaceful Christian demeanor, Rev. Watts not only duped the Klan, but actually ended up becoming close friends with Mr. Clary, who eventually renounced his racist beliefs. This video quickly made Rev. Watts one of my personal heroes. I salute you sir. R.I.P.

Messing with Audition

Aye I'm gettin kinda nice for just having a mic though lol.

Justice??

By now, I'm sure you all are quite aware of the outcome of the Zimmerman trial. I knew deep within my heart that once the verdict was announced, I was going to have to dust off the old blog because I knew that I  would have a lot to say; and I do.
As soon as the judge announced Zimmerman was not guilty, Twitter and Instagram WENT HAM. For the next few hours I sat back on my hotel bed, nonchalantly refreshing my timelines on both and observing the outrage from my followers...

"So much for justice!!" 

"How could the jury let Zimmerman off when a lot of them have kids? What if that was their kid??" 

"WELL IT'S OFFICIAL....BLACK PEOPLE MEAN NOTHING IN AMERICA" 

"The moral of the story is...don't walk around in Florida with a hoodie on at night..because someone might shoot you and get off." 

Yall....I just have to speak out on this. The fact remains that NONE of us will ever know what truly went down that night. Only Zimmerman and God know for sure. The role of a jury is to take whatever evidence is set before them and make a LOGICAL, UNBIASED decision based off of it. You cannot expect for the jurors that have children to put themselves in the shoes of Trayvon's mother. They are not supposed to let their personal feelings or emotions impact their decision in any way; that is the meaning of a fair trial. Regardless of how you feel about George Zimmerman, he has the right to a fair trial just as any American citizen.

As far as the whole "Black people mean nothing in America" claim, that is just absurd. Black people are making it seem as though a white man can walk up to a black boy any time, shoot him, and get acquitted of a murder charge; you all know that isn't true. The reason Zimmerman got acquitted is because the jury was convinced he acted in SELF-DEFENSE; they were persuaded by the defense that Trayvon put his hands on Zimmerman first and thus initiated the fight. Whether this was truly the case or not, we will never know, but that was the consensus of the jury.

I was shocked and horrified to see a particular tweet that contained George Zimmerman's address, the person who tweeted it encouraging his followers to find Zimmerman and harm him. Hurting or killing Zimmerman is not going to bring Trayvon back and I pray that no one takes the law into their own hands in some deluded attempt to avenge him. In fact, for a black person to do that would be COMPLETELY counterproductive if we DON'T want America to profile us as we're walking alone at night. And people threatening to kill George Zimmerman on Twitter isn't helping either. I wish my generation would sit TF down sometimes. Yall aint killin nobody.

As a Christian man, I cannot condone killing George Zimmerman. We must remember that he is a human being just like we are. He has a past and like us, he makes mistakes. To me, he just seems like a dumb guy who followed the wrong person on the wrong night; an overzealous simpleton who took his position a bit too seriously (and may be part black himself). In all honesty, I feel Trayvon Martin's death was just a tragic mistake. Zimmerman had his trial and was acquitted, but now has to live in constant fear of his life. I feel that is punishment enough, but that's just me.

Also, I just cannot take this outrage over Trayvon's death seriously when NO ONE says nothing about the 7,000 blacks who were killed by other blacks last year. That leads me to pose the question, are we mad because Trayvon Martin is DEAD....or because the person who killed him looked white? Is it possible that, as with our use of the word "nigga," it is OK for black people to be killed as long as it is by OTHER black people?? Food for thought.

I attribute people's heightened emotions right now to media manipulation. For weeks now, we've been shown images of Trayvon's dead body and made to listen to the phone conversation in which Zimmerman refers to him as a "punk," stating "they always get away." The media is masterful at manipulating people's emotions and that is just what is happening now. Being the conspiracy theorist I am, I think that the media WANTED a riot to happen after the trial because you know who loves a good riot? The media. You know who makes plenty of money reporting on damages and murders resulting from riots? The media. That being said, it is clear to me why the media has bombarded us with images meant to enrage the black community. It amazes me how the media machine has kept us all focused on this ONE murder of a black boy, causing us to turn a blind eye to the hundreds who die around us every day. America is a big country. People of all ages and colors have killed and been killed here way before Trayvon Martin died. All I will say is that my prayers and condolences go out to the Martin family; may God strengthen them during this deeply sad period.

REST IN PEACE TRAYVON BENJAMIN MARTIN 

My people....my people.

Friends, I have been watching several youtube videos for the past few days, many of which have been centered around problems that are plaguing the black community. From sermons by the good minister Malcolm X, to random channels of brothers and sisters expressing their frustrations at our current condition, it is clear that we are in a sad, sad state of affairs. I was not going to write this post because I know for a fact that what I'm saying is nothing that we have not all heard before. You cannot be black in America and be unaware of the high HIV rate among our people, the disproportionate number of black children living without fathers, or the objectification of black women in the media. I could go on and on about all the things that ail our community, but I will refrain.

What the problem is, I feel, is that many of us have just stopped caring. Many people will probably read this blog, say "whateva nigga," and go right about their day as normal. Now I'm no authority figure, nor am I a black leader; I'm simply an African-American who is keenly aware of what is going on in his community and that these things are not right. We're better than this.....so much better. We're better than 72 percent of our children living without fathers. We're better than making up 60 percent of the current prison population. We're better than living only to "TURN UP" every weekend with no long-term goals of any kind....or are we?

Are we??

Why does the black family unit in America have to be a joke? Why? As the only child of a single mother, I feel as though I turned out pretty well; however, I always wonder what growing up would have been like had my father been around. I'd certainly know a lot more about sports, talking to women, shaving, and automobiles than I know now. Don't get me wrong, I realized early on that I would have to teach myself a lot of things if I was to become a man. I was fortunate enough to have a few good male role models in my life; who knows where I would be right now had I not. I'm just saying, I don't think there is any presence in the world that can replace that of one's biological father.

I firmly believe that the decline of the black family is the single worst thing to happen to our community; worse than HIV/AIDS, worse than the crack epidemic, worse than anything. Think about it, when you are a child, your mind is very malleable. You are constantly observing and picking things up from your environment. If a child is raised in a loving home with two parents who are in a COMMITTED MARRIAGE, it should come as no surprise that that child is statistically less likely to go to prison, drop out of school, or have children out of wedlock. However...because so many black children are raised in single parent homes, sons grow up with few, if any, positive male role models and daughters grow up never expecting to find a husband because mommy didn't have one. Up until the 1950s, the black marriage rate in America was around 64 percent, which accounts for well over half of the population. Today that number has plummeted to around 30 percent. I attribute this to several things: shacking up, images and messages perpetuated by the media, and just pure laziness.

I am a Christian. And I believe that God knew what he was doing when he designed marriage. Nowhere in the bible does it say that marriage is supposed to be easy, but is anything worth having ever easy to obtain? That being said, many of us today are simply unwilling to put in the work it takes to build and maintain a loving relationship, instead opting to hop from one partner to the next whenever we get bored. Smh.

Black men, stop calling our sisters bitches and hos. It's not cool, it doesn't sound cool, and every time you refer to a black woman as such, you insult not only her honor, but the honor of the black woman who raised you. As black men, we are supposed to lead, not berate. We are supposed to exercise sound judgement and restraint. That's what kings do. A lot of my friends tell me "well Nick, I only call a female that when she's acting like one, you know?" I swear, we just love coming up with excuses to be disrespectful. I want you to do something; picture your mother, your grandmother, a niece, or young female family member. Now picture a man calling them a bitch. You cannot feel any type of way about that, but think it's ok to refer to another man's daughter, niece, mother, or grandmother as such. Watch this youtube video of Malcolm X and pay close attention to what he says about black women at the end (around 2:18).

Yall, white people are laughing at us. Seriously. 

...but can you blame them, really? With shows like Love & Hip Hop and Worldstarhiphop.com, why shouldn't they laugh? We do it to ourselves. Growing up, I was accused of "acting white" more times than I care to recall. I've been called an Oreo by black people and white people, and I didn't understand why until I got older. It's because the Black brand in America is built on athletics, entertainment, and ignorance. Hands down, we are the best athletes and entertainers in this country, but we also have a particular talent for making the most ignorant and profitable content America has to offer. Growing up, I wasn't an athlete, I didn't rap or sing, and I was too reserved to be ignorant; hence, I was "white."

I'm really just ranting and raving here, but I think yall get the point. Malcolm is gone, yall; so is Martin, Huey, and the rest of those figures who led the civil rights movement. The black community is slowly, but surely, getting worse with each passing generation. I truly fear for my people if things continue the way that they are now. Sisters, get some self-respect. Stop sleeping with every guy who sends you a flattering DM on Twitter. Stop dissing the nice guys for men who don't care about you or what you think. Look for a husband who will treat you like the queen you are. Brothers, be men. LEAD. Stop disrespecting our women because honestly, they have been holding things down a lot better than we have. And for God's sake, how about the next time you meet an attractive girl, you...I don't know...listen to what she has to say instead of trying to picture her naked? I understand that as men, we have urges; but I also understand that one thing that separates us from animals is the ability to CONTROL our urges. Go out and find a wife. Have kids with her. Be a good example for them, and the cycle will continue. I am sick of my people being a laughingstock in this country; the time has come for us to stop making excuses and handle our business....please.

The Evolution of Lil Wayne

I am writing this post today in an effort to provide an in-depth look at one of the most significant and controversial rap stars of our generation; I am talking of none other than Lil Wayne. Few rappers in recent memory have polarized audiences as Wayne has in recent years; many see him as one of the greatest of all time, while others see him as a washed-up sellout who embodies everything wrong with hip-hop today. Regardless of how you may feel about him personally, there is no doubt that Lil Wayne remains relevant in the game. From musing on the struggles of street life to playing the guitar and wearing Ugg boots, Wayne's evolution, I feel, is one worth examining.

The Early Years

As many of you know, Weezy got his start as a member of the Hot Boys. It was during this time that Wayne released his first album, Tha Block is Hot. 

20th century album covers were photoshop nightmares. 

Tha Block is Hot saw teenage Wayne spitting on issues such as violence, illegal activity, and family issues. You really can't help but admire Wayne's abilities on this album; here is a high school-aged kid painting vivid pictures of hood life and doing so with a surprising amount of insight and maturity. The track "F*ck the World" in particular remains one of my favorite Wayne songs to this day. If you have not heard this song, stop reading and click here. Right now.  Wayne's next two albums Lights Out and 500 Degreez kept Wayne relevant during this time. Neither was anything special or launched him to superstardom; that will come later.

Style: Before he was Weezy, Wayne's style was relatively minimal. He rocked bandanas, t-shirts, and struggle braids. When he felt like it, he would slap on a gold grill to show fools his talk won't cheap.

Lyrical Sample: Wayne's hunger was all-too-real during this period. His subject matter focused heavily on street business and watching your back when the cops are around. My favorite Wayne tracks from this era would have to be the aforementioned "F*ck tha world" from Tha Block is Hot and "Get off the Corner," from Lights Out.

Lyrics from "Get off the Corner" (Lights Out):

I'm a young dog, wild and ecstatic, violent when passin

Hem gangstas doin time in a parishment, role models 

And keep ya cup, we drink whole bottles, and cuss at niggas 

Like f*ck that nigga, I let my pump subtract niggas

Moving on....

The new Millennium 

Oh boy. Ok as many of you know, Lil Wayne dropped his fourth solo album Tha Carter in 2004 and the rest, as they say, is history. 

 After Tha Carter's release, Wayne's mainstream popularity increased tenfold. This album escalated him from a run-of-the-mill rapper to a respected hip-hop heavyweight. However, if Tha Carter catapulted Wayne into the mainstream, then Tha Carter II, released in 2005, marks the point where he BLEW ALL THE WAY UP. For pretty much the rest of the 2000s, Wayne saturated the airwaves--if not on his own songs, then as a feature on someone else's. This list of all his guest spots from '97 to 2012 speaks to his immense popularity following the release of both Carters. Say what you will, but numbers don't lie. Adding more fuel to Wayne's ever-blazing fire was the release of a slew of mixtapes between 2006 and 2009, most notably the wildly popular Da Drought 3, released in April of 2007.

You cannot call yourself a hip-hop fan and be unfamiliar with this tape. It is simply impossible. This tape represents everything that made Wayne such a brutal force of hip-hop during this period; he rapped over several random beats...and actually made BETTER songs out of them than the original artists. He first introduced this tried-and-true technique in The Dedication, but it was on Da Drought 3 that he PERFECTED it. On an unrelated note, it was also around this time that this damning photograph surfaced of Wayne and Birdman doing what no two grown men should ever do. But hey, at least he owned up to it.

Look at old dude in the back though hahahahaa

Following Da Drought 3 were 2008's Dedication 3 and No Ceilings in 2009. In 2008, he released Tha Carter III, which sold over a million units in its first week--a truly impressive feat for an era in which Gold is the new Platinum.

 STILL funny. 

Style: The new millennium saw Weezy growing out his trademark dreads. Aside from that, the one brand I can distinctly remember identifying with Wayne during this period was BAPE.

...until his enormous popularity gained him a few white friends, at which point his style became a bit more varied.

Pictured: Your modern-day Grammy Awards outfit

Lyrical sample: Seeing as how this period saw Wayne's popularity skyrocket, his subject matter varied widely; however, after the release of Tha Carter II, his subject matter gradually began to gravitate from his life and the street hustle to money, women, and his extravagant lifestyle.

Lyrics from "Aint That a B*tch" (Tha Carter):

I'm a muthaf*ckin man so respect me as one or the meet ya ass son

The tech heat ya ass son put ya f*ckin chest beneath ya ass son

Blooka blook blap bleep ya ass son 

Nigga tryin to see his grandson and we

Got niggas in the pen tryin to see me wit a Grammy

Lyrics from "Break Up" (No Ceilings):

Elevator in my crib cuz it's five floors. 

I'm not expecting you to have one inside yours. 

(F*ck you Wayne.)

I have way too many songs that I rocks with from this era, but if I had to pick a few, they would have to be "Aint that a B*tch" from Tha Carter, "Shooter" and "Feel Me" from Tha Carter II, "Upgrade U" from Da Drought 3, "Let the Beat Build" and "Comfortable" from Tha Carter III, and "No Ceilings" and "Sweet Dreams" from No Ceilings. 

Moving on.....

The Present: Experimentation

*Sigh..* Ok. Starting in 2010, Wayne decided that being a rap superstar wasn't trill enough and so decided to try his hand at rock and roll. His debut rock album Rebirth was released in early 2010 and received quite possibly the most hilarious Amazon reviews ever. 

Despite the initial mixed reception, Rebirth went on to go gold, effectively proving that Wayne's fans will support him even when he decides to sit on a stool and placidly play the guitar like Michael Cera in Juno. Wayne's next two albums I am not a Human Being and Tha Carter IV have achieved gold and platinum status, respectively; however, after Tha Carter III, people began to notice a decline in Wayne's ferocity and lyrical content. It seemed as though he had simply become bored with rap, which may explain why he's taken up such hobbies as skateboarding and fashion designing lately. Speaking of fashion design, Wayne launched his Trukfit clothing line a few years ago and seems to me to be the brand's biggest fan; I haven't seen many other people wear it, but the line is still in existence so someone somewhere must be buying it. 

Pictured: Who's buying it

Trukfit has become so important to Wayne, it influenced the cover art for his Dedication 4 mixtape. SPEAKING of mixtapes, Wayne dropped a tape called Sorry 4 the Wait in 2011. I don't know about you all, but I think it is a sad situation when you're a world-famous rapper and people throw your mixtape on to hear one song. For one verse. That's not even yours. 

WHOOOOOP!!!!!!

Style: A lot of dialogue has been had lately concerning Wayne's taste in fashion. Since the late 90s, Lil Wayne has gone from rocking bandanas, to BAPE, to rock star fedoras, to fluorescent shoes and animal print jeggings.

On a list of things that are NOT gangsta...this has to be top 3. 

Lyrical sample: I have a theory. I think that the immense amount of codeine syrup Wayne has consumed has slowed down his mind; this must be the case, because I know he can do a lot better than he has been doing lately. He has gone from the razor-sharp wordplay and liquid flows of the Drought 3 era to this. Wayne has beaten the "f*ck the world" metaphor to death and his flows lately are comparable to the simplest "AB" rhyme schemes one can think of. Don't believe me? 

Lyrics to "Rich as F*ck" (I Am Not a Human Being II):

Never talk to the cops, I don't speak Pig Latin (A)

I turned the penny to a motherf*ckin Janet Jackson (A)

Tell the b*tches that be hatin I aint got no worries (B)

I just wanna hit and run like I aint got insurance (B)

What's your name? What's your sign? Zodiac killer (C)

All rats gotta die, even Master Splinter (C)

 Now I am not necessarily down on Wayne's new direction; I have quite a few favorite songs from his recent projects. These include "Abortion" and the interludes from Tha Carter IV, the track "I am not a Human Being" from I am not a Human Being, "Gucci Gucci" and "Rolling in the Deep" from Sorry 4 the Wait, and "How to Love," "Prom Queen," and "On Fire" from Rebirth. 

In closing, Lil Wayne's ascension to hip-hop super stardom  has been an interesting one indeed. Regardless of how you may feel about him personally, he remains a relevant figure in rap. Not only has he released several pivotal albums during his career, he has launched the careers of both Drake and Nicki Minaj, both of whom have long and vibrant careers ahead of them. All I'm saying is, if Wayne were to retire today, his body of work would go down as one of the greatest in not only hip-hop, but possibly the entertainment industry in general. 

I aint got no worries. 

Twitter man.

Lately, it's dawned on me that....Twitter really aint about nothin. When I say that, I mean that it has literally turned into a billion-dollar empire by simply allowing people to say whatever irrelevant thing happens to be on their mind at that given moment. That being said, I speculated as to how exactly the idea of Twitter came about. Blame the following on my bored imagination.

 



Vagrant

This is a short story I wrote for a "wild card" assignment in one of my classes. I haven't written in a while and I did it in all of one day, but I think it's pretty good. Yall lemme know what ya think.

Vagrant

            The day was clear. The sky was sunny. I had just gotten out of my 12 o’clock class and walked out of the Johnston building; after two hours of sitting in that cold classroom, the sun warmed my face nicely. As the rest of my peers headed to the cafeteria, I decided that today I wanted to treat myself to a hot dog in the park; I had plenty of time until my next class, after all. I walked briskly, my stomach growling in anticipation.

“Chili…cheese…sauerkraut…onions.”

These were the thoughts racing through my mind as I picked up speed towards the park. As I got closer, I saw the hot dog cart stationed next to the big marble fountain of five kneeling women. The water above cascaded pleasantly, reflecting a golden aura from the sun. My feet pounded the pavement as I approached the cart manager. Breathing heavily, I leaned on the counter and looked at the menu.

“Ok…let me get a foot long dog with chili, cheese, onions, sauerkraut…and coleslaw please.”

“Sure thing, sir,” he replied.

He grabbed a pair of tongs lying on the counter behind him and took one of the dogs off the grill. My mouth watered as he grabbed a bun and placed the slightly charred dog inside. He put on the condiments, wrapped it up, and finally handed it to me.

“That’ll be $1.75 sir.”

I grabbed my wallet and hurriedly found two dollars to give to him. It was all I could do not to throw the money at him; instead I placed it on the counter and took the hot dog from him.

“Keep the change.”

I took a seat on a park bench in front of the fountain. I eagerly unwrapped the hot dog and took a minute to enjoy the aroma. I checked my watch. I had an hour and a half until my next class. I was good. I took an enormous bite out of the hot dog. My stomach gurgled happily as I swallowed and continued eating. In my voracity, I failed to notice the homeless man slowly approaching where I was sitting. It wasn’t until he took a seat to my left that I opened my eyes and jumped slightly. He was a squat, frumpy old black man with thick, unkempt dreadlocks. His coat appeared to be a size too big, and his salt-and-pepper beard was long and matted. He looked to be in his late fifties. I hadn’t realized that I was staring when he turned to look at me.

“Man can’t have a seat here?” He asked.

“Oh- I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Ah, that’s alright. I suppose you young folk these days can’t help it. You’re all so privileged, you see someone like me and don’t know what to think.”

He laughed. His snaggletoothed grin caught me off guard and I chuckled involuntarily.

“I guess so,” I replied with a laugh.

The man made me nervous. I saw homeless people every day, and when I did they were usually asking for money. The man’s closeness sparked the idea that any second he might pull out a knife and threaten to stab me if I didn’t surrender my wallet. 

As if reading my mind, he said, “Well, I didn’t come over here to bother you or anything. I just need a place to rest for a minute. Carry on.”

He slumped a bit further on the bench and closed his eyes.

“Oh alright then, ” I replied.

I continued eating my hot dog, a bit faster now. In his half-slumber, the man began humming softly. I didn’t pay much attention at first, but I soon noticed that the tune was familiar.

“Excuse me, sir.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Yo.”

“Was that Scott Joplin you were humming?”

He grinned a yellow-toothed grin.

“Yes sir. Maple Leaf Rag. What you know about that?”

“I love ragtime,” I said with a chuckle. “That’s actually one of my favorite pieces.”

“Really? You may be alright son. You may be alright.”

I laughed. “Wow…I didn’t think that…never mind.”

He looked at me incredulously.

“You didn’t think the homeless man knew anything about good music? That’s it right? Man I promise you young people….so quick to judge and jump to conclusions about EVERYBODY!”

He shifted indignantly in the bench. Sitting there with his matted beard, yellow teeth, and coat that was too large, somehow he still managed to look dignified. It was weird. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

He eyed me with slight resentment, then spoke again.

“Shouldn’t you be in school right now? You’re a college student, right?”

“Um, yea. I go to King’s University right down the road,” I replied. “But I don’t have class for another hour.”

“I see,” he replied, scratching his head. “What are you studying over there?”

“Art with a double minor in Music and Theology.”

“Wow,” he said with an amazed look. “Wide range of interests you have there. What exactly do you plan to do with that?”

I answered slowly.

“I’m….not entirely sure. Just yet.”

He laughed again.

“Sounds to me like you’re gunning for my job! I wouldn’t recommend it. Vacations are the only perks.”

His laugh was infectious. His tired brown eyes glinted momentarily.

“Ah man,” He continued.  “I hope you figure that out soon. This country already isn’t too fond of us, if you know what I mean. Going out into the world without a good plan is setting yourself back even further.”  

“Really? This guy is gonna counsel me about my future?”

“…I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered half-heartedly. I resumed eating what was left of my hot dog.

“Theology, huh?” He continued. “I take it you plan to preach or something one day?”

I swallowed the last of my hot dog before answering.

“Well, I figure I’ll apply to a few graphic design firms after graduation. If I don’t hear back from any, I’ll probably go to divinity school as a backup up plan.”

His eyes shifted from me and he appeared to gaze off into the distance for a few seconds before replying.

“So you want to preach? That’s admirable, I guess. I used to be the religious type until around high school when I realized there were too many unanswered questions.”

“What sort of questions?” I asked.

“Just things like who created God, why must we constantly worship him, all sinners going to hell, the problem of evil. Those sorts of things. Now I’m more agnostic than anything. I came to the realization that there’s no way for me to truly know. So now I just enjoy life.”

His use of the word “agnostic” threw me off. I felt guilty for automatically assuming that he would be another lazy bum hitting me up for change. There was one question remaining in my mind, however.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” He replied, scratching his head.

“You seem so well-educated. How did you end up….you know..homeless?”

He smiled and chuckled lightly.

“Young brother, lemme school you on something. Education has nothing to do with how well off you’ll be in this country. You can have all the book learning in the world and at the end of the day still go home to a roach-infested apartment with a broken toilet. Meanwhile, I know plenty of bona-fide idiots sleeping in million-dollar homes. Just goes to show you that education doesn’t run the world; money does. And I’m where I am today because I just didn’t have enough.”

He slumped down into the bench before continuing.

“No one is going to hire you because you can rattle off the events that led to the Civil War. I was foolish enough to believe that that sort of learning would make me successful.” 

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Really, I am.”

“Hey don’t feel bad for me, now,” he replied. “I’m bunking at the Deacon Ridge Homeless Shelter until next month; got a potential job lined up and everything, so I’m alright.”

He rolled up his long coat sleeve to reveal a wristwatch with a worn leather band.

“Speaking of which, it’s just about lunch time. And since you didn’t seem too willing to share that hot dog, I guess I ought to be heading back over there.”

I felt ashamed at his mention of the hot dog. I regretted not offering him a piece.

“If you want sir, I don’t mind buying you one.”

He slowly got up from the bench.

“That’s ok young blood. It’s Fried Chicken Wednesday and I’ve been fantasizing about a breast and a wing all day. But thanks for giving a homeless man the time of day. Good luck out there once you hit the real world. Hopefully you won’t end up bunking with me in a few years.”
He laughed loudly before walking off.

I watched him as he strolled away. Looking at my watch, I saw I had 15 minutes until my next class. I got up from the bench and started to make my way back to campus. I began to think about what the homeless man had said. I hadn’t even gotten his name or told him mine. I found it strange how he and I, two complete strangers, had just sat down and gained a little insight on each other’s’ lives.

“This is why I’m really in school, I guess.  Seems like the true learning happens outside of class.”

As I approached campus, I felt a strange sensation, almost an obligation, rise up inside me. The homeless man had worked hard and learned so much only to end up poor. The more I really thought about it, the more I felt as though I had no right not to make something of myself after receiving my degree. His words resonated with in my mind and I began to feel as though, for his sake and mine, I had to become successful. I looked up at the sky and made a silent promise.

“Sir, I don’t know you, but I promise you that my hard work—and yours—will not be a waste.” 

- Nick G.