"Thank you": But How Thankful Are You

Edward L.

At some point in our lives we all are taught certain mannerisms that are only courtesy. There is one phrase in particular, "thank you", which, said to show our gratitude, can be the most controversial word. How can you truly mean "thank you" if you are not truly thankful? I wasn't as thankful as I should have been coming up as a young boy. I wasn't thankful for the stable environment I had living with my father because I wanted everything my way. Between the loss of two friends, the death of two friends, and getting caught up with the police, I finally realized that I had been very ungrateful. It took me being all the way at the bottom of my rope to realize my problem. Life is too short to be living it ungratefully so when saying "thank you," mean it.

My life was made easy for me but I wanted to do things my way instead of the right way. I really wished I had listened to all the things my father told me as a child growing up. I should have listened when he said, "don't hang out with those boys, they're nothing", "go to college get an education or your going to wind up flipping burgers for a living" or "I make the rules in this house if you don't like it get out." If I would have only took his advice I would never [have] seen two of my comrades buried, I would have never had to sleep outside in the rain, and I would have never had a run in with the police.

I started life out like everyone else except; the difference between them and me was that I had a flame of rebellion that grew as if some one was fueling it. I was already getting in trouble in the second grade. It was Mr. Chaplain's class, Columbia, South Carolina; I was the class clown. I was always cracking jokes about people with no regards to their feelings. It was the same all the way throughout elementary. I was getting teacher conference notices, which were discipline notices, almost every day. At the time, I refused to listen to anything the teacher was saying. Things went that way through high school. I had been so nonchalant about rules and my schoolwork; I was held back a couple of times but thankfully I graduated.

After high school I started to hang with the wrong crowd. I had many friends but I had always hung out with the troublemakers. At this time, the majority of problems came from disobeying my father's rules. I started hanging out late every night with my so-called friends. I say so-called because if they were really my friends they would have told me to go home instead of influencing me to stay out. My father began to get tired of my tardiness and told me when I got off of work to come straight home. I thought that was unfair so when I came home late I would tell him I had to work late. One night I had gotten fed up with the rules imposed on me and stayed out at my friends' house. I knew that was going to get me kicked out of the house, so I dropped my car off back at my fathers' and move in with my friends. That's when I noticed a change in their attitude, my friends that is.

When you are growing up everyone develops a sort of cocky attitude towards something they are good at but you're not supposed to act that way with your friends. The thing that was different between us was that I am from the projects. I was seeing we had two different out looks on life. They were your average pretty boy type or least trying to be, and I was the "rough around the edge" type. Well like I said before I notice[d] a change. So, instead of being a good friend they were plotting against me. I had this DVD player that was given to me by another friend of mine, and there was no food in the house so I pawn[ed] the DVD player to get some money for food. Well, my roommates told their mother that I stole their DVD player and pawned it! I was given a lecture from her and told to pack my stuff and get out. I had asked for a few days to find somewhere else to stay but she wanted me out as soon as possible. So I left my stuff over there and started to look for a temporary place to stay. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a place to stay and all my friends that had house[s] of their own refuse to let me stay with them for a few days. I was homeless with no money and no job.

I slept outside in someone's backyard on his or her porch at night. During the daytime I would walk around to different places just to pass time. I became cold hearted during this time because all my so-called friends cared about me when I had money but now that I was broke they didn't care at all. So I stayed in a homeless shelter for two weeks. I had found a new job and moved back home with my father. Things were going good until one night I had gotten drunk at someone's house. I called home and my father told me to come home and pack my things. I had three days to get out of his house. I couldn't stay in the shelter because there was a rule to where I could only be there two weeks every year. I didn't want to be homeless again so I took what little money I had and left Texas. I was going back home to New Orleans!

You know how when you do something there is always that one thing that tells you whether or not you made a bad decision right off the bat? Well, I had gotten a bad sign as soon as I got off the bus! I had been in contact with my cousin telling him I was on the way and to be at the bus station to pick me up. When I got off the bus, I was looking for my ride and there wasn't one. Imagine having to walk two miles carrying a suitcase and a duffel bag in ninety-degree humid weather. That's what I had to do so I didn't get to do anything when I first got back but go to sleep. I moved around New Orleans from different family members house until I had to move to the projects. I made it back to my old hood Mary Poppins.

In Mary Poppins I had to struggle for everything I wanted no matter if it was money, food, clothing and even respect. The job market for a young black man down there was extremely low so I had to make my living anyway possible. I began running with the dealers and sort of fell into that lifestyle. It was great at first. I was making money without punching a clock! It wasn't too long until my own family snitched on me. Then a good friend of mine named Hambone was killed in a hit and run on Manhattan Boulevard. Not too long after that my friend named Jean was shot in front of his mother's house. He died before the police arrived. The thing that gets me is that I just saw the both of them before they had died. That showed me how short life really was and how I had taken for granted the time and the things that were given to me on this earth.

So in conclusion, there were times when my gratitude wasn't where it should've been but I know now the true meaning of saying "thank you". Everybody is given a chance at life but how many people get as many chances that I have gotten? I can now look back on every event that took place in my place in my life and say "Thank You" and mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you.