Thursday, April 06, 2006

The Party (part 1)

I was reading SistaGirls' post about her mother and felt inspired to write about my father. My love of music comes directly from my father. I remember one time when I was 4, he let me help him DJ a party at the rec center. Here’s the first part of that story.

It was a Friday night in 1979. I remember that because I was laying on the floor watching Bill Bixby morph into Lou Ferrigno on “The Incredible Hulk.” I was already in my Superman footy pajamas, the left insole worn thin by my constant pigeon toed stance. My mother and sister were in my parent’s bedroom doing whatever it is that females do when the fellas get together. My father (Pretty Ricky what they called him) was sitting on the gold hued sofa, rolling a cigarette with his homeboy, Polo. I sat there entranced by the coolness of my father (or maybe I just caught a contact, I found out later those weren’t really cigarettes.) as he and Polo shot the breeze about the party they were about to attend. My father was the DJ, and Polo was the hype man, a sort of late 70’s Flavor Flav. Come to think of it, he kinda looked like Flav. But I digress. I wanted nothing more than to hang out with my father so in my 4 year old glory, I asked “Daddy, can I go to the party with you?”

Ricky chuckled as he exhaled cannabis smoke and replied, “Sorry, Little Man, your mama won’t let that happen. You’re still too young to be on the scene.”

“But I can help you rock the house”, I retorted precociously.

“Is that right? Come show me what you got.”

Ricky got off the couch and extended his hand towards me, which I graciously accepted. He pulled me onto his back and we made our way to the dining room where he kept his records and turntables. Ricky pulled out a crate of albums and asked me “Which record should I play first?”

I paused for a second then with a sheepish grin, replied “Play that song about the guy who don’t swim.” I was referring to “Aqua Boogie” by Parliament. My 4 year old mind didn’t really grasp the whole concept of what George Clinton was talking about, but Sir Nose D’Void of Funk was my jam. I saw Ricky’s face light up as he realized his love of music had passed to his first born son. He took the record out of the sleeve and we jammed to P-Funk’s tale of dancing under water and not getting wet.

“What’s next, Little Man?” Ricky asked still in a music high.

“Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough”, I said, although I used to think it was “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Catch The Bus”. He was obviously impressed and we went back and forth as I compiled a play list that featured such future classics as “I Wanna Be Your Lover”, “She Used To Be My Girl” and my personal favorite at the time “Ring My Bell.” After a while, Ricky was convinced that I knew my tunes. It would take more than that though to convince my mother to let me go to the party.

Ricky went in the back to throw on his party gear, which if my memory serves me correctly, consisted of some tight ass pants and a paisley shirt with a huge butterfly collar. He also took out the curlers he had in his hair. He had what people called “good hair” which precluded him from naturally growing an afro, so he did what he had to do. I could hear him and my mother arguing in the bedroom as Polo poured out some white powder on the coffee table and started cutting it with a playing card. I couldn’t make out what Ricky was saying, but I heard my mother’s barrages of “no, absolutely not and no chance in hell.” Ricky emerged from the room defiantly and whispered in my ear “go get some clothes from your room, but don’t let your mama see you.” He took a hit of the Polo’s “grown folk’s candy” and started loading his turntable and crates of records into our burgundy ’77 Monte Carlo.

I went in my room and tried to find some clothes that matched my father’s style. I settled on a pair of blue jeans and a brown, orange, and red button up shirt, with a collar that matched Ricky’s. I got dressed and ran out to the living room careful to avoid my mother’s attention. Ricky told me to wait in the car as he announced that he and Polo were leaving. I didn’t realize until later that my mother forbade me from going to the party with Ricky. I was just ecstatic that I was able to hang out with my father as he prepared to rock a party at the rec center.

To Be Continued…

It was written…

13 Comments:

Blogger nikki said...

this story already has me engrossed. i can't wait to hear what happens next. you are indeed a great story teller.

Thu Apr 06, 11:03:00 AM  
Blogger NegroPino™ said...

AWW that was precious.....i wanna know if little T sneaks out hte house to go to the GROWN ppl's party

Thu Apr 06, 11:21:00 AM  
Blogger SistaGirl said...

I love your writing, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen and then upset when I hit the bottom. Can't wait to read more. Thanks for the shout out :-).

Thu Apr 06, 11:32:00 AM  
Blogger Miss Ahmad said...

ooh that makes me think of them good old family parties when my grandfather used to own a disco club. I spent more time in the DJ booth getting my music on...

great story!

Thu Apr 06, 03:34:00 PM  
Blogger BBB_0202020 said...

This was a great story, I like clffhangers...tell me more

Thu Apr 06, 07:14:00 PM  
Blogger cupcake27 said...

Bluelight in the basement....check out my page I have a vent for you.

Fri Apr 07, 11:05:00 AM  
Blogger cupcake27 said...

by the way did you ever catch that bus?

Fri Apr 07, 02:05:00 PM  
Blogger D- said...

T. Cas...hey babe. Been a minute. Just wanted to say hey.

Fri Apr 07, 02:20:00 PM  
Blogger P said...

T. . .

You really do have a wonderful writing style. I'm at work, but I feel like going somewhere laying down, turning out the lights, and listening to you (or playing like I am ) the comparable way that I listen to music. . .

Fri Apr 07, 06:00:00 PM  
Blogger T. Cas said...

I meant to post the second part of this post, but ummm.. my dog ate my homework. Wait, I already told ya'll i hate dogs. Hmm. I mean, my computer crashed... Wait, then how am I writing this now? Ok, I'll tell you the truth, I just got lazy. I'll get it done this weekend

Fri Apr 07, 06:46:00 PM  
Blogger T. Cas said...

@ thanks Nikki. That's high praise coming from a writer like yourself.

@ I went to the party, I'll tell you about it this weekend.

@ thanks for the compliment and thanks for the inspiration.

@ miss ahmad - A lot of my memories are tied into music.

@ tiger kiss - I'm glad you like cliffhangers. Some more this weekend as well as your damn tags. *mutters curse words*

@ cupcake - Cut me some slack on the lyrics, I was 4. But that's where my music obsession comes from

@ d~ I was about to send out an APB for you. By the way, happy birthday.

@ P - thanks a lot. Glad I could sooth you with my melodic words LOL

Fri Apr 07, 06:52:00 PM  
Blogger Cocoa Girl said...

You have a music obsession, too? I dunno know where mine comes from...surely not my mom or my dad...

Wed Apr 12, 04:18:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

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Fri Feb 16, 06:07:00 AM  

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