Survival Skills

I saw Joey for the first time in a week. The boy is amazing. Big, strong, loud and funny as hell.

He’s the complete opposite of his mother though, when she was 9 years old, she also possessed a keen sense of humor.

I’ve known Joey’s mother since she was in kindergarten and I’ve known Joey since before he was born.

I’m no blood or legal relation to them but I lived with Joey’s grandmother for 13 years and I helped provide for his mother when she was young.

Joey’s mother has always treated her mother like shit. This behavior was encouraged by her biological father and it made certain parts of my life with Joey’s grandmother…well, lookin’ back on it, unbelievably painful.

By the time Joey’s mother became Joey’s mother, she had aligned herself with her dad coz, according to her and her father, he was the only person who could “support her lifestyle habit.” Whatever that means.

And, whatever that means, this is what it looks like to me: Joey’s mother does nothing but sleep, do drugs, smoke and drink. She lives in a house owned by her daddy and, for a while, pretended like she worked for him but soon became unwilling or unable to show up at the office at least once a week.

Judging, by the ramblin’, rantin’ manifestos hand written on big sheets of styrofoam and cardboard left taped to the front door of Joey’s house, his mom and her Man Parent argued a lot about the money he spent on her “habit.”

Accordin’ to the notes (I’d read them all as I waited for Joey to answer the door every week day morning when I showed up to make sure he got to school), it was costin’ him $100 a day, plus her salary of $3000 a month and the “bitch” (his words written on several of the tracts, not mine) couldn’t even pay the “electric” bill.

Some notes called her other names but I won’t go into that here.

On mornings when there were notes pasted all over the door and picture window, nobody answered the door.

Joey’s mother lives a terrible life.

But Joey lives a life of wonder, enthusiasm and joy.

He doesn’t believe in keepin’ secrets from me though he’s been told to stay quiet. He worries about his mom coz he thinks she’s “not a survivor.”

He says, “I love my Pops but he can’t buy me.”

Then he asks me for a video game.


About joefingas

I am a songwriter, poet, blues singer, and a boogie woogie piano player. I have a grandson but I have no children of my own. All my women have wised up and left me. I was a bum, a wino, a drug/alcohol counselor, a prevention/intervention specialist and a pretender. I have no more time to pretend.
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