The Ungiven Gift

Curtis had sickle cell anemia, an incurable, painful and terminal illness that plagues young folks of African descent.

I would meander into his space to invest a little time with the rebellious loner and would frequently end up refereeing a screaming match...

He was pencil thin and walked with a limp. A thirteen year-old boy with enormous yearning eyes who was always an unlucky patient on the children's floor of the hospital exactly where my youngest daughter was all also usually incarcerated.

Curtis had sickle cell anemia, an incurable, painful and terminal illness that plagues young men and women of African descent.

I would meander into his room to spend a small time with the rebellious loner and would frequently finish up refereeing a screaming match between him and one particular of the nurses. The street-wise Curtis would usually win.

More than the course of a handful of years (the hospital was usually my house-away-from-home), I at some point learned of the horror of his upbringing, the sad reality of his present life and the apparent dimness of his future.

My expertise as a volunteer in the Massive Brother-like plan in our local Children's Help Society was that a modest dose of interest and some one particular-on-1 attention could go a lengthy way to helping a kid who was in difficulty with the law, failing school and in Curtis' situation, a social outcast.

So, when my time was over with the last boy I was involved with, I asked the CAS if I could hook up with Curtis, albeit 'unofficially' this time. Dilemma was, I was in the procedure of promoting my drycleaning enterprise whilst creating a music production studio (for my subsequent career) and my time was too much at a premium to commit to a structured arrangement. They agreed, and I began to hang with Curtis.

I learned in really short order that amongst his survival abilities was the tendency to cajole, cleverly manipulate and even outright steal. Although often type, I had to have a second set of eyes when in his presence and was forced at instances to be, well, curt with Curt.

Also throughout this time, I was involved in a major lawsuit immediately after obtaining had a song of mine "lifted" by a 1-time friend and co-writing partner in Los Angeles, who had grow to be a 'hot' producer of major recording acts. On 1 of his multi-million promoting records was the core of a song of mine he had heard and we discussed in my presence during one particular of my frequent music trips in the 1980's. I was a little far more than hurt and felt I deserved not only the royalties for my creation, but also the credibility that went along with a "cut" of that magnitude by a name recording artist.

I retained a very regarded entertainment lawyer in Detroit (he represented a lot of of the athletes on the specialist sports teams in Detroit as well as one particular of the all time greatest boxers and even some popular civil rights icons) who just happened to also be a truly wonderful and giving human getting.

It was in a meeting with this man that I casually mentioned Curtis and my wish to do some thing very unique for him. See, in my heart, I had a feeling Curtis would not reside for too several far more years. Sickle cell sufferers usually died in their early twenties, or even ahead of, a decade ago. I wasn't expecting anything from my lawyer in this regard, but the subsequent day the phone rang and I was instructed to have Curtis "dressed up" and at the Palace of Auburn Hills at a precise gate number 1 hour prior to a Detroit Pistons game later that week.

He was a enormous basketball fan. His hero of heroes was Isaiah Thomas, captain of the Motor City NBA Champs the prior two years. But I did not let on to Curtis exactly where we had been going that night. Just that we had been hanging out. I just asked his foster mother (and I use the term mother quite lightly) to have him dressed nicely with his birth certificate in hand by a certain time.

Curtis was on time, eagerly waiting on his rickety porch when I pulled up. But to my utter dismay, he looked as disheveled as he constantly did in his overbaggy, tattered clothes. And of course, great ol' foster mom could not uncover his birth certificate. Now, can you envision the fancy dancin' I had to do at U.S. Customs having this 'gang looking' teenager with no identification attempting to cross the border in my new BMW? Effectively, fate and some silver tongued talkin' prevailed and we had been soon racing up I-75 to The Game.

I tried to make idle conversation with the excited but slouching teenager. All Curtis could do was hound me. "Is it a ballgame? Is it a concert?" "Rick, exactly where are we going?" I love to tease. Lastly, he glimpsed the landmark dome of the arena from the freeway and knew he was going to get to see his preferred team play.

We identified the specified gate, parked and walked to the entrance. Walking with Curtis was often a small frustrating for me (he would do the 'slow, cool stroll' and I am a brisk walker) but this time I knew there was a thing unique awaiting that we must practically race to.

We had been met by a well-dressed, executive-looking middle-aged man, who just happened to be the Vice-President of Public Relations for the Detroit Pistons. Talk about 1st class! He escorted Curtis not to his seat, but straight to the Pistons bench, where Curtis' eyes grew practically as big as the basketballs the giant athletes had just began tossing around in their pre-game warm-up.

I was led to our primest of seats straight behind the bench. A waitress visited only seconds following that, taking my order for refreshments. Every little thing was "on the property". I saw a single of the assistant coaches introduce himself to Curtis, and next point I know, well, guess who's center court amish chicken coops tossing the ball around with his hero, Isaiah? Soon, he was operating the court and shooting hoops with Bill Laimbeer, Dennis Rodman, Joe Dumars and the rest of the elite players!

At this point, I couldn't even envision the exhilaration that this young man who life by no means seemed to smile upon was experiencing at this really moment! I mean, how could anyone's wildest imagination even envision this ravaged spirit and physique trying to "deek the Negative Boys of basketball?" I just sat quietly in utter amazement, misty eyed and SO grateful amazon ftp hosting to my legal buddy and the 'human' management of this skilled sports team who arranged all of this for 1 individual. A Canadian kid who was close to my heart

When the warm-up was carried out, Curtis climbed up with me. The 1st half of the game was great. The Pistons were pounding their opponents. A few of the players even glanced back and motioned at their new teammate! By the time the half-time buzzer sounded I was particular Curtis' dream day was complete.

But hold on, this was only half time! The exact same assistant coach who invited Curtis onto the hardwood floor pre-game, known as for him to hang with the team in the sanctuary of the dressing space during their significantly-needed break. Give ME a break!

I'll by no means forget what I consider was the widest smile I have ever noticed as the team emerged onto the floor afterwards and my tiny guy 'cool strolling' as amish chicken coop proudly as I've ever noticed any person. And much faster than I ever recalled. What a night!!

The ride residence was quiet. Opposite of the ride there. Curtis slept most of long way house. I could only think about his dreams. Canada Customs was kind and allowed him to sleep by way of their handful of brief concerns for me. It was sad to see him sleepily stagger up the sidewalk to his stark reality, after having just left a globe where I'd bet no 1 would think he had been.

Somehow I thought I would get a phonecall from Curtis the next day. But it in no way came. Two days later I had a really good purpose to call him. My lawyer and the team had arranged to have each and every player on the NBA Champion Detroit Pistons sign the game ball from that night, and Federal Express it to my residence address, to give to Curtis. An autographed yearbook was included as well.

I couldn't wait to tell him. I mean, I was flabbergasted at this unexpected and over-the-best gesture! I recall excitedly dialing his number and the deflation following hearing that "Curtis took off to Toronto yesterday." She went on to clarify that she did not know where he was or how to contact him. And neither did the Children's

Help Society.

Tiny did I know that evening would be the final time I would ever see Curtis. My instincts inform me that he is not with us any longer. But if he is, he has 1 excellent gift still waiting for him - The Ungiven Gift.