Growth of a Man

By James G. Houston

The story is about the growth of a little boy who was introduced to the streets and sex at a very early age. His mother and grandfather were from the South. They were poor financially but rich with love. His mother instilled in him and his siblings to take care of one another. He was very close to his siblings. They took good care of him. At an early age, he was left by his siblings in Indiana with their grandfather, while they were taken to New York by their mother. He survived his environment for three years before he was reunited with his siblings in New York. He looked up to his oldest brother, who guided and taught him that school and hard work can lead them to a better way of life. His brother was an excellent role model. They both worked hard to help their family in any way they could. After he finished college, he joined his older brother in the New York City Department of Correction. They both became ranking officers and retired after twenty years of service. He grew into a strong, positive black man who led his family to that better way of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503547667

Book preview

GROWTH OF A MAN

James G. Houston

Copyright © 2015 by James G. Houston.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2015903116

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5035-4764-3

      Softcover      978-1-5035-4765-0

      eBook      978-1-5035-4766-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/19/2015

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER ONE

At the age of five, I remember getting two new pairs of pants. One pair, plaid, and the other pair, blue jeans. My two older sisters, Melvin and Joyce, told me I was to wear the blue jeans the next morning for the first day of school. I wanted to wear the plaid one because it was more colorful. So I dragged the blue jeans across the floor, thinking if I got them dirty, I wouldn’t have to wear them. After they figured out what I did, I received a whack across my butt from Joyce. They both chastised me and told that I was still going to wear the blue jeans anyway. I don’t remember having any difficulties in school at all as the school year went on. Joyce always made sure I completed my homework and read my books. I remember her sitting on the floor with me in front of her.

When I was six years old, my two sisters as well as my two older brothers, John and Dwight, left me in Indianapolis, Indiana, where I was born. They went to live with our mother, Alberta Houston, in New York. I was left in Indiana to live with our grandfather Johnnie Houston. We all loved our grandfather, and we all called him Daddy, the only man we called Daddy, as far as I can remember.

Our mother started having children before she was fifteen years old. By the time she was twenty, she had my four older siblings. We all loved our mother too. She was born in Mississippi, as well as my four older siblings. She was a good person, tried her best. It’s difficult anytime a child has children. Our grandfather was by her side. During the year before they left, there was one incident that I’ll never forget!

I didn’t go to school due to a cold. My older siblings were either at work or in school. My aunt Barbra was the last to leave the house. She is my mother’s younger sister, and she checked on the family when possible. I was told by my aunt to stay in the house and not to open the door for anyone. Well, my aunt had on a red blouse. The doorbell rang while I was standing back out of the way. All I saw was red, so I thought it was my aunt. I opened the door, but it wasn’t my aunt. It was a social worker! Needless to say, I was in serious trouble. My mother was due to visit us very soon, and when she arrived, it didn’t take her very long to give me an old-fashioned butt whopping, as we called them. Back then it was normal in some households. Today she would be arrested if the authorities were aware of the severity of her whoppings. She dealt with the pressure and was ultimately given a chance to keep her children and not lose us to the system.

I was born in the sixties, and it seemed like I grew up fast, especially after my siblings left. It would take three years before I would be reunited with them. I witnessed, encountered, and got into things in those three years. I remember being seven or eight years old and sitting near the side door, just playing with something, when I was startled when this man ran through the side of our yard with a gun in his hand. He didn’t stop or even look at me, but it was still startling.

That last year in Indianapolis, I remember being bullied by an older boy. He’d collar me and take what little change or snacks I had. The strange thing is, I never told anyone! I would love to run into his ass today. Honestly, I don’t remember his name or his face, so it would be a moot point. I just know things would be different.

My grandfather (my hero) worked two jobs to take care of us and mortgage a pretty decent home for us. With my older siblings gone and my grandfather working, my uncle sometimes looked after me. Then there were times I was told to go to the corner Laundromat until my grandfather got off that night. There were times when there was no one to watch me. There were times I went over to a friend’s house or just on the streets. I was told to stay in the Laundromat, but I was hardheaded and curious! I remember finding my grandfather’s gun, playing with it, not knowing to this day if it was loaded or not. I remember lighting matches and spraying aerosol cans, giving off that fire torch effect. Pretty dangerous now, looking back! I remember even tasting liquor—it might have been more than a taste. I just remember pouring some gin in a glass and guzzling it down. The way I saw my grandfather guzzle it down. I was okay; I didn’t get sick or dizzy or pass out, but I learned at an early age that drinking wasn’t for me. To this day I never had another drink! Gin was my grandfather’s drink of choice. I always wondered why my grandfather made that twisted face every time he took a guzzle. After my guzzling, I knew!

When my siblings left me early that morning, they all kissed me and said good-bye, but my brother John (we call him Mac) came back upstairs and kissed me one last time! Eventually I fell back to sleep. When I woke up, my whole life had changed. The sisters that had taken care of me practically my whole life were gone. My two older brothers, who looked after me as well, were gone! The house seemed so empty. I was just six and a half years old. I was sad beyond belief. You go to bed and everything seems normal, lively, and family oriented. Then you wake up and everything is empty, quiet, and sad! My grandfather looked sad too.

Our grandfather remarried before I was born. We’ll just call my step-grandmother Ms. H. My older siblings weren’t very fond of our step-grandmother; as a matter of fact, the only time I ever heard them use the word hate was in regard to our step-grandmother! There were horrible stories about them being mistreated, from things like her spitting in the corn bread to other horrible stories. I don’t remember too much about her. I do remember her face and her stature. My brothers and sisters said she was very mean when our grandfather was at work and then treated them decently when he got home. I guess it was confusing to him because he witnessed decent treatment, but the problems came when he was away.

We were poor, and I was later told that my siblings’ clothes were packed in cardboard boxes and they took a Greyhound bus to New York. In school, instead of being that bright little boy I was, I became a kid seeking attention in many ways (the class clown). I was mischievous but well-mannered. When I knew my teachers were going to call my grandfather about my behavior, I would take the phone off the hook. I remember feeling bad because I thought it was costing my grandfather money when I took the phone off the hook.

I remember there was a boy named James, like me, who was killed after running out in the street. James was struck by a car after being chased by a dog. To this day I hate seeing stray dogs on the streets. It was sad, and he was a good friend. There was another kid named Charles whose house I would frequently go over, as well as the Jacksons’. We called the Jackson family our cousins because my oldest sister, Melvin, dated their oldest brother, and from that relationship my niece Kelly was born. Kelly was just a few months old when they left Indiana.

I remember my uncle who sometimes looked after me during those three years. Once he had me downtown and I was seven years old. I remember walking close to him, then all of a sudden, I was lost. I didn’t see my uncle anywhere. I was scared, but I knew my address and my phone number. I knew that I was supposed to find a police officer. I remember walking up to someone in uniform and telling them I was lost. Of course the first thing I was asked was if I knew where I lived and my phone number. It seemed hours went by before I was picked up from Monument Circle, Downtown Indianapolis. Guess who came to pick me up. The same damn uncle who lost me! There were other times he’d have me out in the freezing-cold weather distributing newspapers. Once we got back home, he watched me run hot water on my freezing hands, causing me to cry from the pain. To this day, I have never revealed to anyone that he touched me inappropriately and was definitely a pedophile that shouldn’t be left alone with children, period! I put it out of my mind for so long. He has been accused of child molestation through the years. I have no respect for him now, and sometimes, I still want to kick his old ass!

Before I turned eight years old, one Saturday night, I heard some yelling, so I ran into the kitchen and saw my grandfather bleeding from his head. My step-grandmother hit him in the head with a frying pan! It was another scary episode. He wound up being okay; I don’t think he even went to the hospital. I do remember her and my uncle leaving! It was just my grandfather and me from then on. My grandfather sometimes had his old friend Mr. Henry watch me until he got off work. I remember Mr. Henry treating me nicely.

I remember really enjoying when my uncle Dave and my uncle Jack, as well as my aunt Rose, came over. They were my grandfather’s younger siblings. This was mainly before my brothers and sisters left. My aunts and uncles were always very nice to us, and I remember my uncles picking me up and giving money! The house seemed so happy and lively when they visited. I also remember playing records on my grandfather’s old record player. I kept playing the records back until I memorized the words to the songs. That seemed to be my favorite thing to do. I thought I sounded pretty good singing them too!

Three years had passed and I was nine years old. Just the thought of reuniting with my brothers and sisters was exciting! Leaving my grandfather was so hard. I loved that man so much. He was my first hero. He was a very good person who worked hard for his family. His work ethic was impeccable. We all have flaws; his was drinking. He was a weekday functioning alcoholic. He worked tirelessly through the week, and when he got off on Friday, he’d drink until Sunday night.

I always knew he loved me—I felt it. I miss my grandfather. He raised me, but my life changed for the better! My mother took me to New York on a Greyhound bus and I couldn’t wait to get to New York. It was so exciting seeing my brothers and sisters again. They all seemed glad to see me.

My mother treated me differently when I got to New York. I was different; for three years, I endured things that no six-through-nine-year-old should encounter! She really didn’t have time to understand me, and I was intimidated by her. So the communication was lacking, to say the least. I admit, I did things I shouldn’t have and my mother was a no nonsense person. So if she found out I paid dearly. We were still public assistance poor! We grew up in the Old Mill Court project in Rockville Centre, Nassau County, Long Island, New York, about half-an-hour ride east of the city. It was very clean and very decent. We lived in 9c; it was only a two-bedroom apartment. My two sisters and two nieces shared one room. My two older brothers and I shared the other bedroom, while my mother and my baby brother were in the living room. After a little while, we moved to 35a Old Mill Court, which had four bedrooms. The families living around us were hardworking families. Some of the mothers were domestic workers like my mom. The families that employed my mom treated her with respect and dignity.

As kids, we played tag throughout the area and we also played lots of basketball. There were three local parks: The big park, which also had a pool, tennis courts, a baseball field, and of course, the basketball courts. The little park sat right in the projects, and we often played basketball there. The kiddie park sat closer to the back parking lot. Rockville Centre was a really good place to grow up in. People were nosy as hell but friendly. Grown-ups had no problem telling your parents if they caught you doing something wrong. The school system was good because Rockville Centre was actually an affluent town. Our projects just happened to be sitting on the west end of the neighborhood.

After I arrived in Rockville Centre, every building looked the same to me, but it was summertime, so it was sunny and I was so happy! I never had a bike before, so I really enjoyed riding my niece’s bike. It had training wheels on it, so I had so much fun! Every time I met someone new and told them who my mother or brothers and sisters were, I received a kind gesture or smile, and that made me feel good. My family was well liked and respected.

My brother Dwight was quiet and passive, and Mac was quiet also but possessed a very good physique and nobody really messed with him. He never started any trouble either. Mac’s friends were Dwight’s friends too. Their friends always looked out for me and treated me well. My brothers had really cool friends, and my mother seemed to really like them too. My sisters’ friends seemed really cool as well, but they were much older, so it was different.

Although I was only nine, I was getting a lot of attention; being the new kid was fun! I was adjusting to the fast pace of New York.

CHAPTER TWO

That same summer, little girls gave me lots of attention and of course, I liked it but had know idea where things would wind up. The little girl offered to give me some. Of course I said okay. She was a whooping ten. She was very pretty. This was an all new experience for me. She came over one afternoon when my mother and oldest siblings were working, so it was just Dwight and me at home. We were in the bedroom that I shared with Mac and Dwight. She kissed me and I kissed her back. Everything was going okay, until she told me I was supposed to get on top of her. I thought I would squeeze and hurt her. She had the audacity to call my brother in the room so he could tell me I wouldn’t hurt her when I got on top of her. He confirmed that I wouldn’t hurt her and left the room. Even at nine that seemed awkward as hell for me, but not her at