The Ungiven Gift

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

I would meander into his room to spend a little time with the rebellious loner and would usually end up refereeing a screaming match...

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

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

I would meander into his space to devote a tiny time with the rebellious loner and would usually finish up refereeing a screaming match amongst him and one particular of the nurses. The amazon ftp hosting street-wise Curtis would usually win.

Over the course of a couple of years (the hospital was always my house-away-from-residence), I eventually learned of the horror of his upbringing, the sad reality of his existing life and the apparent dimness of his future.

My knowledge as a volunteer in the Huge Brother-like program in our neighborhood Children's Aid Society was that a tiny dose of interest and some one particular-on-one focus could go a extended 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 final boy I was involved with, I asked the CAS if I could hook up with Curtis, albeit 'unofficially' this time. Problem was, I was in the process of selling 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 extremely brief order that among his survival expertise was the tendency to cajole, cleverly manipulate and even outright steal. Though often type, I had to have a second set of eyes when in his presence and was forced at times to be, nicely, curt with Curt.

Also for the duration of this time, I was involved in a key lawsuit following having had a song of mine "lifted" by a a single-time friend and co-writing partner in Los Angeles, who had become a 'hot' producer of key recording acts. On a single of his multi-million selling records was the core of a song of mine he had heard and we discussed in my presence throughout one of my frequent music trips in the 1980's. I was a little a lot 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 extremely regarded entertainment lawyer in Detroit (he represented many of the athletes on the specialist sports teams in Detroit as effectively as one particular of the all time greatest boxers and even some popular civil rights icons) who just happened to also be a really amazing and giving human becoming.

It was in a meeting with amish chicken coop this man that I casually talked about Curtis and my desire to do something quite special for him. See, in my heart, I had a feeling Curtis would not reside for as well several a lot more years. Sickle cell sufferers typically died in their early twenties, or even ahead of, a decade ago. I wasn't expecting something 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 specific gate quantity a single hour prior to a Detroit Pistons game later that week.

He was a large basketball fan. His hero of heroes was Isaiah Thomas, captain of the Motor City NBA Champs the prior two years. But I didn't 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 extremely lightly) to have him dressed nicely with his birth certificate in hand by a particular 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 often awesome chicken coops did in his overbaggy, tattered clothes. And of course, great ol' foster mom couldn't uncover his birth certificate. Now, can you imagine the fancy dancin' I had to do at U.S. Customs getting this 'gang looking' teenager with no identification attempting to cross the border in my new BMW? Well, 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. Finally, 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 discovered the specified gate, parked and walked to the entrance. Walking with Curtis was usually 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 some thing unique awaiting that we must virtually race to.

We had been met by a nicely-dressed, executive-looking middle-aged man, who just occurred to be the Vice-President of Public Relations for the Detroit Pistons. Speak about 1st class! He escorted Curtis not to his seat, but straight to the Pistons bench, where Curtis' eyes grew almost 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 right after that, taking my order for refreshments. Every little thing was "on the house". I saw one particular of the assistant coaches introduce himself to Curtis, and subsequent issue I know, nicely, guess who's center court tossing the ball about 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 picture the exhilaration that this young man who life never seemed to smile upon was experiencing at this really moment! I mean, how could anyone's wildest imagination even envision this ravaged spirit and body trying to "deek the Bad Boys of basketball?" I just sat quietly in utter amazement, misty eyed and SO grateful to my legal friend and the 'human' management of this skilled sports team who arranged all of this for one particular individual. A Canadian kid who was close to my heart

When the warm-up was completed, Curtis climbed up with me. The very first half of the game was fantastic. The Pistons had been 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 full.

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

I'll by no means forget what I feel was the widest smile I have ever observed as the team emerged onto the floor afterwards and my little guy 'cool strolling' as proudly as I've ever seen any individual. And significantly faster than I ever recalled. What a night!!

The ride residence was quiet. Opposite of the ride there. Curtis slept most of extended way property. I could only picture his dreams. Canada Customs was type 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 a single would think he had been.

Somehow I believed I would get a phonecall from Curtis the subsequent day. But it never ever came. Two days later I had a quite good reason to call him. My lawyer and the team had arranged to have every player on the NBA Champion Detroit Pistons sign the game ball from that night, and Federal Express it to my property address, to give to Curtis. An autographed yearbook was included as well.

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

Help Society.

Little 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 one particular fantastic gift nevertheless waiting for him - The Ungiven Gift.