The Ungiven Gift

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

I would meander into his room to devote a little time with the rebellious loner and would often finish 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 often an unlucky patient on the children's floor of the hospital where my youngest daughter was all too usually incarcerated.

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

I would meander into his room to devote a little time with the rebellious loner and would typically end amish chicken coop up refereeing a screaming match between him and a single of the nurses. The street-wise Curtis would generally win.

More than the course of a couple of years (the hospital was usually my house-away-from-property), I eventually 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 system in our neighborhood Children's Aid Society was that a tiny dose of interest and some 1-on-a single interest could go a lengthy way to helping a kid who was in trouble 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. Dilemma was, I was in the approach of promoting my drycleaning enterprise whilst building a music production studio (for my subsequent career) and my time was too a lot at a premium to commit to a structured arrangement. They agreed, and I started to hang with Curtis.

I learned in very brief order that among his survival abilities was the tendency to cajole, cleverly manipulate and even outright steal. Although constantly kind, 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 key lawsuit after obtaining had a song of mine "lifted" by a one particular-time buddy and co-writing partner in Los Angeles, who had grow to be a 'hot' producer of major recording acts. On one of his multi-million selling records was the core of a song of mine he had heard and we discussed in my presence in the course of one of my frequent music trips in the 1980's. I was a small 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 very regarded entertainment attorney in Detroit (he represented a lot of of the athletes on the specialist sports teams in Detroit as nicely as a single of the all time greatest boxers and even some popular civil rights icons) who just occurred to also be a truly great and giving human becoming.

It was in a meeting with this man that I casually mentioned Curtis and my desire to do something quite special for him. See, in my heart, I had a feeling Curtis would not reside for also a lot of far more years. Sickle cell sufferers often died in their early twenties, or even just before, a decade ago. I wasn't expecting anything from my lawyer in this regard, but the next 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 one particular hour prior to a Detroit Pistons game later that week.

He was a massive 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 where we were going that night. Just that we were hanging out. I just asked his foster mother (and I use the term mother very 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. amish chicken coops And of course, great ol' foster mom could alternative ftp not find 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? Properly, 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 located the specified gate, parked and walked to the entrance. Walking with Curtis was constantly a little frustrating for me (he would do the 'slow, cool stroll' and I am a brisk walker) but this time I knew there was something unique awaiting that we really should almost race to.

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

I was led to our primest of seats straight behind the bench. A waitress visited only seconds after that, taking my order for refreshments. Every little thing was "on the house". I saw 1 of the assistant coaches introduce himself to Curtis, and subsequent thing I know, well, guess who's center court 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 think about the exhilaration that this young man who life never ever seemed to smile upon was experiencing at this extremely moment! I mean, how could anyone's wildest imagination even envision this ravaged spirit and physique attempting 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 specialist sports team who arranged all of this for a single 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 fantastic. The Pistons were pounding their opponents. A couple of of the players even glanced back and motioned at their new teammate! By the time the half-time buzzer sounded I was specific Curtis' dream day was complete.

But hold on, this was only half time! The identical 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 room for the duration of their considerably-necessary break. Give ME a break!

I'll in no way forget what I think was the widest smile I have ever seen as the team emerged onto the floor afterwards and my little guy 'cool strolling' as proudly as I've ever noticed any individual. And a lot faster than I ever recalled. What a night!!

The ride property was quiet. Opposite of the ride there. Curtis slept most of extended way home. I could only envision his dreams. Canada Customs was sort and allowed him to sleep through their handful of brief concerns for me. It was sad to see him sleepily stagger up the sidewalk to his stark reality, following possessing just left a world where I'd bet no one would believe he had been.

Somehow I thought I would receive a phonecall from Curtis the subsequent day. But it by no means came. Two days later I had a really good cause to call him. My attorney and the team had arranged to have every single 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 couldn't wait to tell him. I mean, I was flabbergasted at this unexpected and more than-the-best gesture! I recall excitedly dialing his quantity and the deflation after hearing that "Curtis took off to Toronto yesterday." She went on to explain that she didn't know where he was or how to speak to him. And neither did the Children's

Aid Society.

Small did I know that evening would be the last time I would ever see Curtis. My instincts tell me that he is not with us any longer. But if he is, he has one excellent gift nevertheless waiting for him - The Ungiven Gift.