Generation to Generation

Generation to Generation.

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Generation to Generation

 

102

 

I’m scribing some ramblings as I recently encountered yet another dramatic illustration one of the many faults within urban society.  As you know reading this “urban” is the term used to describe the poor or disenfranchised who seem to toil through life until their deaths seemingly unaccounted for.

I digress.  Arriving to a local store to full up my tank, I noticed as I was pulling into the space there seemed to be a small gathering immediately at the store’s entrance.  Putting the car’s gear in park It was clear that I would soon be in the midst of those persons awkwardly looming about in front of the store’s entrance.  While some would likely assess the situation prior to exiting their car, admittedly I’ve become so callous in this regard and my age likely has played a part in not allowing “anyone” to intrude on my liberties.

Moving toward the door it was very clear what was occurring.  While I could see three “urban” teens with their backs facing me, the only teen I could see the face of seemed disturbed and in total fright in his expression as I moved toward the door passing the group.  The teen who was outnumbered, and surrounded was asked to leave the store, where he likely retreated to for refuge.  The employee of the store was preoccupied with the sight of the four young men blocking the foot traffic as several other patrons had also walked passed the group to and from the store.

Dialing 911 the employee of the store continued to attend to steady flow of customers, while cradling the phone head set between his ear and left shoulder. The fearful teen was larger in build than the other three, and as I passed the group returning to my car it was clear the fearful teen was engaged in a negotiation of sorts, with the booty being his own physical safety.

Growing up in the South Bronx, Queens, and Brooklyn steadfast adage was learned early on. “mind your business!”  New Yorker’s are known for our coldness, or disconnected dispositions regarding those around us.  I myself have witnessed occasions in New York that in other regions would cause a public out pour in the defense of the one accosted.  Although in these instances, the entire melee was almost invisible to the passerby.

On this day however, I felt the need to at least let the teens know the police were on their way, and more than likely they all would have to spend some unpleasant time explaining their trivial points of view to an officer who neither empathized or would rather the group disperse than to cuff them all and forcibly remove them from the store.

“Yo you guys need to bounce”, I said.  The three potential assailants all turned to me, then back toward the larger teen who had his back to the door of the store’s entrance.  The shortest of the three, his pants resting below his buttocks revealing his underwear print grabbed the arm of the teen to his right and as if to pull him away.  “C’mon yo!” they barked at the last teen still standing in the face of the teen in front of door.  Running past me to catch up to his two counterparts as they left the area of the store, the last teen said “good looking out” in my direction as he trotted by.

Hanging up the pump and tightening the gas cap on my car the fearful teen was still standing in front of the store, but now moved slightly out of the door’s frame.  I looked at his facial expression which was now less frightened, and more enraged.  I closed my car door and rolled down the passenger window to make sure the teen understood that the police should be arriving any moment.  Without looking in my direction the once fearful teen who had scarcely averted a physical beating (or worst) said “F*** You, mind your bizness old head!”  “WOW” is all I could muster in response.