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Aint Never Done...



I ain't never gone

be done feelin how

I'm feelin bout dis.



I mean how am I s'pose

to feel bout somebody

who helped me come to

manhood?



Bout somebody helped me

learn to fix things (and

how to delay fixin em too)?



Bout somebody who showed

me what an electric guitar,

a saxophone, a conga drum,

or bongos was about? Yet

couldn't carry a note in

a bucket wit a crane.



Bout somebody who showed

me what a camera does and

how a leica or a polaroid

really works?



Bout the joys of coffee and

cheddar cheese, bout chili

wit rice, bout chop meat,

rice as a breakfast cereal,

real homemade hash, baby

ruth, snickers, almond joy

and most of all...

the Butter Rum Lifesavers

in that left coat pocket

that always made a 5 year

old smile wide.



Bout how to live in the

projects and looking for

him to come home from work

so we could race to the

building?



Bout how to drive and long

trips to North Click in

the Summer with stops at the

Howard Johnson rest stops

and vending machine Pez

dispensers?



Bout working in the church

or goin along for the ride

or laughing as he snored

with his mouth open or

seeing him with his hair

slicked down with pomade

when he got dressed up or

teaching me to tie my

first necktie?



Bout leavin for college and

him warning me gently as I

got on the bus to "watch out

for pickpockets"?



Bout him seeing me in my

Navy uniform and saying how

proud of me he was and then

repeating it after I got

married and had my first home

built?



Bout callin to check on him

and Aunt J every month and

him saying something crazy

that always made me laugh

out loud?



Bout how he's gone now and I

still can't really believe

it and how it breaks my

heart that Aunt J doesn't

even remember who I am?



Bout how he's the only real

father I've ever known (when

my biological didn't bother)

and through good and bad and

whatever how he loved me

anyway and always considered

me one of his sons.



Bout how I ain't never gone

be done appreciatin what he

(and Aunt J) have done to make

me the me that I am.



This is an ode from a proud

son to a wonderful black man

who did his best to raise him

right.  



Please God let me be worthy

and may he live on through

all of his sons wherever

we are. And ensure that the

memories...



ain't never done.