Black People : Arrange whatever pieces come your way.

Discussion in 'Black People Open Forum' started by Metaverse, Jun 8, 2009.

  1. Metaverse

    Metaverse Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Share Your Inspirational Story.
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    By now we have all had a personal moment, an experience, a thought, a story that woke us up and made us motivated and inspired. A positive life changing event or an uplifting tale of humor and laughter. We take the time to cherish these moments because they evolve us in some way and make us eager to experience more.

    What inspires us, keeps us going.
    Share your inspirational story!
     
  2. Metaverse

    Metaverse Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    I remember a story that really changed my life and led me closer to learning and trying to understand the nature of things. One year- when I had just graduated from High School I found myself spending more time with my older cousins, most of them were drug dealers and spend most of their time on the street late at night. I remembered one very cold winter's night in Harlem, it had to be like 10 degrees below zero.

    3 of my Cousins and 2 of their friends were planning a robbery. My first cousin- the female was working at the grocery store they were planning to rob. She had been working there for about a year, and she said every Thursday night like clockwork, the white Jewish Man would make a bank drop at 2 am in the morning. The bank was across the street. She calculated that there was at least $10-15,000 in the bag.

    Now, unfortunately for me- I just happened to be with them on this night in particular. I was the lookout Man. My job was to stay in the subway which was right near the store and look out for any Cops coming up the stairs, if I saw anyone I had to do my best to give a signal.

    I tell you it was freezing that night. I remember I had on boots but thin socks, so my feet would've fell off had it not been for all the hot nervous blood pumping through my body. Afterall I had never-ever did anything like this before. Never had to rob a soul. Never had to sell anything illegal on the street. But there I was. Aka- a makeshift rite of passage into Manhood.

    My oldest Cousin was the Gun Man. He was right at the Bank waiting in the darkness for the White Man to come out. Everyone else was spread out near the store and across the street making sure everything ran smoothly.

    We started planning everything from 1 am. He was the only one in the store. We saw him moving around- busy tallying up all the cash registers. It seemed like everything was going as planned. Everyone was ready- all except me.

    For a brief moment, I saw everything that was going to happen. We were going to get away with the money but we were going to get arrested. I saw my Mother's tears and I saw myself going upstate for awhile. The freezing cold was telling me I needed to take my butt home to a warm house.

    So I told the Man to stay inside. I willed him. And even though, every Thursday night like clockwork- he would make a bank run right around 2 am....that night he stayed inside. He never came out.

    We stayed out there until 3:30 am until my cousin called everything off. When he said we could all go home my blood started flowing like normal again. Everyone disbursed. I went home to my warm bed like the cold was telling me earlier. And ironically, my Elder Cousin went into the subway- hopped over the turnstiles without paying and got arrested. He would spend the next 3 years in prison because of outstanding warrants.

    Now that story really inspired me. For some people it only takes a brush with jail time to set them straight. I always wondered however, was it really me that kept the Man in the store that night. After all, it was a very cold night- still- the bank was right across the street? My female cousin couldn't figure it out either. The store owner continued making the bank run as usual- every Thursday at 2 am.
     
  3. soulosophy

    soulosophy Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    My story...

    Thank you for sharing that DG MetaS. I don’t know if my story that I’m about to share is inspirational, but it did affect me in a big way and is something I shall never forget.

    It was the summer of 1971. My four brothers and I all attended Benson Road Junior School in Birmingham. It was the school outing to a seaside resort in Rhyl. I wanted to sit on the train with my best friend Catherine Clarke, a white freckled-face girl with the longest ginger-hair I ever saw. She was the kindest and sweetest girl I knew in my class. We would often wait for each other and walk to school together and would share our pineapple chunks and kay-lie (rainbow sherbet). While most of the other children called me names because of my dark skin, and teased Catherine because of her ginger hair, I guess Catherine and I took solace in each other.

    The trains back then had separate compartments with sliding doors. The teachers had already put us into groups. I don’t recall what carriages we were in but Catherine and I were in the same carriage but in separate compartments. She was in a compartment further along down the carriage.

    It was a beautiful sunny day. My classmates and I laughed, joked and sang on the way to the seaside.

    My parents had a thing that whenever my siblings and I started acting out of sorts they would say in their potois “ah what ah posses you suh?” Well I don’t know what had possessed me that day but on the way to Rhyl, I kept telling my classmates that the train was going to crash. “The train’s gonna’ crash… the train’s gonna’ crash…” I taunted in my Brummy accent as if chanting some kind of mantra. My classmates began to get fearful and told me to stop saying that. Growing up in an abusive household I had no fear of anything except my dad and wanted to die anyway so wishing for the train to crash meant nothing to me.

    The train didn’t crash and we reached our destination safely. We played on the beach, went on fun rides, swam in the sea, stuffed ourselves with ice-cream, pink candy floss, and toffee apples. I remember being in the shallow part of the sea and went behind a rock and the bottom of my feet began to feel sore. I walked back onto the beach and the soles of my feet had slashes as if I had walked on a bed of razor blades. The slashes were not very deep though. I’m not sure what it was that slashed my feet, but all I can think of was that it was some sort of coral.

    After having a grand time at the seaside, we were all ready to set back home. I remember I didn’t want to go back to a home full of hate and violence and thought of running away and staying at the beach forever. We had to sit in the same carriages we arrived in. I don’t remember how many stations we passed or how long we were on the train when we noticed our carriage began rocking real hard from side to side. Then the rocking got even more vigorous and the next thing I knew I was thrown violently out of my seat and something hitting me on my head and face and glass breaking. I don’t know whether I had lost consciousness for a while but all I remember it was dark and I could hear screaming and crying. I tried to move but I couldn’t due to there being debris on top of me. I laid there for some time unable to free myself. My friends and I were scared and crying. We stayed where we were waiting for the teachers to come and get us out.

    The time seemed to go by so slowly. I remember the floor being wet as water was coming in from somewhere. My face and arms felt sore and my back was hurting. It seemed as if hours went by before we heard a different sound from the cries. It was the sound of drilling. It wasn’t until I saw sparks and someone cutting into the train that I realized someone was coming to get us out. I hadn’t known then that the carriage had overturned. It was dark but once the hole had been cut, I remember seeing cows with buckets of water around their necks in a field from the light of the rescuers and the reporters. The firemen pulled the debris off of us and got us out of the carriage. We were taken to nearby hospitals. We were treated and though my back hurt I just had bruises and no broken bones. Fortunately, we were not seriously injured though I still have the scars on my face and etched in my mind. We were released from the hospital and taken back to our school by coaches where our parents anxiously awaited the return of their children. Mum and dad were there with my other siblings and my four brothers were already at the school waiting with them. Mum cried when she saw my face, arms and legs covered in plasters.

    Later we learned that Catherine had died and my brother’s friend Wayne had also died. It also took me a while before I traveled on a train. Even now whenever I travel, be it plane, train, boat or car, I say a positive mantra before setting foot on the means of transportation.

    That is one incident I will never forget. It took me a long time to get over losing Catherine and I would often dream of her after the crash and sometimes sleep walked. Losing my best friend so young affected me in a way I’d never been affected before. I began to get real sick and was vomiting and choking in my sleep and also began having oobe’s (though I didn’t know what I was experiencing at the time). My parents took me to the hospital and though they gave me tests and what have you they couldn't find anything wrong with me. Over time, this kept on happening and again I was in hospital. Again more test but no diagnosis. My Mum worked in a mental institution and she took me to see a psychiatrists. I remember it was a woman who had me spit on a piece of paper which she then held a piece of crystal dangling from a chain over the spit. I don't even remember what she told my Mum.

    Words with serious focus and intent are very powerful. As the saying goes, “be careful what you wish for…” To this day though, I sometimes wonder whether it was my fault that the train had crashed when I attempted to scare my classmates that the train was going to crash. Although I was only a child, today I sometimes wonder, like you DG MetaS, whether I had willed that incident.

    Rest in Eternal Peace and Love Catherine and Wayne!!

    The following extract is taken from The Times of Saturday July 3 1971. The front page report was headed: “Two killed as day-trip train crashes with 400 children on board”.

    Two children, a boy and a girl, were killed and five people were seriously hurt when a seaside day-trip train carrying 400 children and 30 adults was derailed after hitting a bridge near Chester yesterday. About 25 others were slightly hurt.

    The train, carrying children and teachers, mostly from Benson Road Junior School in Winson Green, Birmingham, was returning from Rhyl, North Wales, where the children had been on a day excursion.

    Police described the crash as a “major disaster” and 18 ambulances were sent to the area.

    Parents of injured children were taken from the Midlands to Chester by special train last night to see their children in hospital.

    Cheshire fire brigade sent fire machines, a breakdown vehicle and special cutting gear to the scene.

    Railway officials will hold an inquiry and a public inquiry is expected to be ordered by the Department of the Environment.

    More than 300 anxious parents waited in silence last night outside the Benson Road school for news of their children. Dozens of police attempted to answer questions.

    At one stage they brought blackboards out into the street and chalked up what sketchy details they had, such as the number of injured.

    Later, as the children arrived home, many mothers were weeping hysterically. Several children had cut marks and bruises and were crying.

    British Rail said last night that there were stretches of continuous welded rail on the line between Chester and Crewe, but it was not known whether the train was running on welded rail when the coaches were derailed.

     
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