Judy isn't present at QUEST this week. She's in Las Vegas for a gang violence seminar. So, for this week, we have a conglomeration of QUEST stories. We have two stories and and two poems from QUEST's very own.
First, we have Judy's recollection of something very interesting that she heard from her assistant, Nu.
Police Incident #2
This one was witnessed by my top assistant -- ironically, my wonderful new help is called "Nu." Last week, he was called in as an independent witness for an incident on his street.
Nu has a neighbor whose wife suffers from serious mental illness. On this particular day, this sad woman had lost control of herself and was sobbing and threatening suicide. "She's really bugging out. She needs help immediately," the neighbor said, who was pretty upset himself and very, very concerned. So, Nu and the neighbor called 911, explained the situation and asked for some kind of psychiatric intervention.
Police came and were advised that the wife's meds were not working and that she was lying on the bathroom floor totally out of control, sobbing hysterically. The officers then questioned the young woman, who by this time was totally incoherent. They then viewed all the meds that were currently in use.
These fools (and I do use this term advisedly) started employing frick-frack routines.
"Here, take some more Zanax, and sweetie, just calm yourself down. Yeah, yeah. That's the good stuff."
And then, and then -- they left. Picture this: worried husband, abandoned woman, and frightened children in a tableau of misery as the curtain comes down on what easily could've been a happier ending.
Next, we hear from Izzy. Izzy tells us about his friend, a young boy, whom he cares and worries for very much.
This past weekend, one of my friends, also a kid that goes to QUEST, had a birthday. I asked his mother what time I should come over and she told me, and I quote, "Oh, you can come by anytime. It's not like we're doing anything." The little boy we are talking about is the one that sits in the corner playing by himself. He's made his own world where he's a real cool kid when in reality, he's craving for attention and I'm his freedom. He says I'm his oldest brother and he looks up to me and his mother told me to come up to his party, that he would like it and I agreed and I told her I would surprise him. The next day was Ricco's birthday. I called before I came over and she told me she sent him to his friend's house for the night because she was going out that night and she said she needed someone to watch him. I told her she should've given him to me. I really worry about him sometimes these past weeks as Miss Judy has been on vacation and QUEST has been closed. All I've been doing is lazing about my house, probably gained a little lbs because I like to run around at QUEST.
Next, we have a poem from Smokey.
"Questioning my Personality"
Destroyed by my past,
Faces are constant reminders of what I've done.
What happened to the days when worries weren't an issue?
I want to prosper, I want to be, but I feel like a destroyed man trying to pick up the pieces.
Argument, fights, tortured in my mind.
Is this any way to live?
Is it right? Is it me?
Who am I really?
Am I this good man that is a father,
Or am I this beast that is lurching on the inside?
Two personalities of me fighting for dominance.
Who is gonna win this battle?
Good or bad, right or wrong?
Right now I am not sure who I want to win.
Only time can tell what I will become.
Am I going to become the man I am preparing for?
Or the animal that infested my mentality for such a long time?
Who am I today?
Who will I be tomorrow?
Can't call what's in store for me.
Finally, we have a short story by DA RAVE (aka Raymond Gonzalez).
"Ghetto Cry"
Chapter 1: I can't see you walking alone in the middle of the road with a rip in your belt and a hole in your clothes. I get a chill through my bones knowing you're all alone, crying until the morning, "The ghetto's too strong." My dream is to take you away from the hunger, the killing, the horror; my life is no longer without you. I wonder if you'll be at home if I call you on the telephone. Would you be lying in a rut with your guts on the floor 'cause some thugs thought it would be fun if they killed someone? I see women on the block selling their bodies like a shop to feed their little ones. Is this ever gonna stop?
- Ghetto Cry -
The Ghetto's Too Strong. For you and me to go alone
The Ghetto's Too Strong. Crying all night long, 'til the early morning.
The Ghetto's Too Strong. No more lonely nights, no more gun fights baby.
The Ghetto's Too Strong. Together, we can try to live a meaningful life.
Chapter 2: I see that crime rates increased. Stole the shoes off your feet and your purse for your dough. Do we know the police to be putting our trust in? Their guns are gonna rust on them. Scared to be using them when gangs keep on using them. It must be hard living alone, a young lady, in the Bronx going crazy, family death delaying. I try, baby. Should I go on or should I die, baby? Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. "The Ghetto's Too Strong" -- but together, we're much stronger. Let's unite our strengths and we'll live a lot longer. I'll miss you if anything happened to happen. If gangs keep on trapping us, hating us, slapping us. Stop being stubborn, I love you, I need you. You need me, a lover that keeps on with the love.
- Ghetto Cry -
Chapter 3: I know that welfare's a pain and it's hard to maintain 16 years old with a child both of you and your own. I want to be anything that you want me to be. A father, a friend, anything that I can. Who can I help besides you? My family is already secure, but you, your on your own. Who the hell can I help? The ghetto is not worth all the pain, the crying, the cheating, the dying and the weeping. "The Ghetto's Too Strong" -- can't let you go alone. Together, we can withstand anything the world brings on. But, the ghetto's too strong. The ghetto's too strong. THE GHETTO'S TOO STRONG!
- Ghetto Cry -
Dedicated to all the young ladies who made the mistake of trying to become adults in the ghetto. The mistake of falling in love with the first guy to say "I love you," and took away what makes you special: your innocence. The mistake of leaving your real family to go and start a family that, in the long run, will suffer from poverty, violence, immaturity and lack of love. The mistake of destroying your childhood before actually living it. Dedicated to all who try to escape the troubles and the stress that the ghetto brings on. To all who do what they can to survive. But, this is not only a dedication. It's a calling. The ghettos cry to all who have it good; no worries, living wonderful lives. Please don't ignore this cry. Reach out and do anything you can to help those who are trapped by gang wars, prejudice, and lack of community respect that the ghetto goes through. "The Ghetto's Too Strong." Alone, we are nothing. Together, wee are everything, and can face anything.
