The Ungiven Gift

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

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

He was pencil thin and walked with a limp. A thirteen year-old boy with large yearning eyes who was always an unlucky patient on the children's floor of the hospital exactly where my youngest daughter was all too frequently 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 tiny time with the rebellious loner and would often finish up refereeing a screaming match in between him and one particular of the nurses. The street-wise Curtis would typically win.

More than the course of a few years (the hospital was usually my property-away-from-property), I eventually learned of the horror of his upbringing, the sad reality of his existing life and the apparent dimness of his future.

My experience as a volunteer in the Huge Brother-like program in our nearby Children's Aid Society was that a modest dose of interest and some 1-on-one attention could go a extended 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 more than with the last boy I was involved with, I asked the CAS if I could hook up with Curtis, albeit 'unofficially' amazon ftp hosting this time. Dilemma was, I was in the method of selling my drycleaning business even though developing a music production studio (for my subsequent profession) and my time was also considerably at a premium to commit to a structured arrangement. They agreed, and I started to hang with Curtis.

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

Also in the course of this time, I was involved in a significant lawsuit following obtaining had a song of mine "lifted" by a a single-time buddy 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 selling records was the core of a song of mine he had heard and we discussed in my presence in the course of 1 of my frequent music trips in the 1980's. I was a small 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 attorney in Detroit (he represented a lot of of the athletes on the specialist sports teams in Detroit as properly as one of the all time greatest boxers and even some well-known civil rights icons) who just occurred to also be a genuinely wonderful and giving human becoming.

It was in a meeting with this man that I casually talked about Curtis and my want to do something really particular for him. See, in my heart, I had a feeling Curtis would not reside for also numerous a lot more years. Sickle cell sufferers often 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 precise gate number one particular 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 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 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 often did in his overbaggy, tattered clothes. And of course, good ol' foster mom could not find his birth certificate. Now, amish chicken coop can you think about the fancy dancin' I had to do at U.S. Customs obtaining 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, where are we going?" I enjoy to tease. Lastly, he glimpsed the landmark dome of the arena from the freeway and knew he was going to get to see his favorite team play.

We discovered the specified gate, parked and walked to the entrance. Walking with Curtis was constantly 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 one thing special awaiting that we ought to nearly race to.

We had been met by a effectively-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 directly to the Pistons bench, exactly where Curtis' eyes grew almost as massive 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 directly behind the bench. A waitress visited only seconds following that, taking my order for refreshments. Every little thing was "on the property". I saw one of the assistant coaches introduce himself to Curtis, and next point I know, effectively, 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 could not even imagine the exhilaration that this young man who life never ever 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 to my legal buddy 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 completed, Curtis climbed up with me. The first half of the game was wonderful. 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 particular Curtis' dream day was total.

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

I'll in no way forget what I consider was the widest smile I have ever noticed as the team emerged onto the floor afterwards and my little guy 'cool strolling' as proudly as I've ever seen anybody. 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 long way residence. I could only envision his dreams. Canada Customs was type and allowed him to sleep through their few short concerns for me. It was sad to see him sleepily stagger up the sidewalk to his stark reality, following getting just left a world exactly where I'd bet no 1 would believe he had been.

Somehow I believed I would receive a phonecall from Curtis the next day. But it never ever came. Two days later I had a really excellent purpose to call him. My attorney 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 residence address, to give to Curtis. An autographed yearbook was included also.

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

Help Society.

Tiny 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 anymore. But if he is, he has 1 wonderful gift still waiting for him - The Ungiven Gift.