The Ungiven Gift

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

I would meander into his space to invest 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 massive yearning eyes who was always an unlucky patient on the children's floor of the hospital exactly where my youngest daughter was all as well typically 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 space to spend a small time with the rebellious loner and would frequently finish up refereeing a screaming match between him and 1 of the nurses. The street-wise Curtis would typically win.

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

My expertise as a volunteer in the Large 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 long 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 more than 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 amazon ftp hosting process of selling my drycleaning business although creating a music production studio (for my subsequent career) and my time was also significantly 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 amongst his survival abilities was the tendency to cajole, cleverly manipulate and even outright steal. Though always kind, I had to have a second set of eyes when in his presence and was forced at occasions to be, properly, curt with Curt.

Also during this time, I was involved in a significant lawsuit right after getting had a song of mine "lifted" by a one particular-time friend and co-writing partner in Los Angeles, who had grow to be a 'hot' producer of significant 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 for the duration of one particular of my frequent music trips in the 1980's. I was a tiny 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 highly regarded entertainment attorney in Detroit (he represented a lot of of the athletes amish chicken coops on the specialist sports teams in Detroit as effectively as one particular of the all time greatest boxers and even some famous civil rights icons) who just happened to also be a actually wonderful and giving human becoming.

It was in a meeting with this man that I casually mentioned Curtis and my wish to do a thing very special for him. See, in my heart, I had a feeling Curtis would not live for too numerous far more years. Sickle cell sufferers typically died in their early twenties, or even just before, a decade ago. I wasn't expecting something 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 precise 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 didn't 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 specific 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 always did in his overbaggy, tattered clothes. And of course, very good ol' foster mom couldn't find his birth certificate. Now, can you imagine the fancy dancin' I had to do at U.S. Customs having this 'gang looking' teenager with no identification trying to cross the border in my new BMW? Properly, fate and some silver tongued talkin' prevailed and we were 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 adore 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 little 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 should practically race to.

We were met by a nicely-dressed, executive-seeking middle-aged man, who just occurred to be the Vice-President of Public Relations for the Detroit Pistons. Talk about 1st class! He escorted Curtis not to his seat, but directly to the Pistons bench, exactly where Curtis' eyes grew virtually as big 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 directly behind the bench. A waitress visited only seconds immediately after that, taking my order for refreshments. Almost everything was "on the house". I saw one of the assistant coaches introduce himself to Curtis, and subsequent factor I know, nicely, 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 picture the exhilaration that this young man who life never seemed to smile upon was experiencing at this very moment! I mean, how could anyone's wildest imagination even envision this ravaged spirit and physique trying to "deek the Undesirable 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 professional sports team who arranged all of this for one particular person. A Canadian kid who was close to my heart

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

But hold on, this was only half time! The very 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 in the course of their a lot-necessary break. Give ME a break!

I'll never ever forget what I believe was the widest smile I have ever seen as the team emerged onto the floor afterwards and my tiny guy 'cool strolling' as proudly as I've ever noticed any person. And considerably faster than I ever recalled. What a night!!

The ride home was quiet. Opposite of the ride there. Curtis slept most of long way property. I could only imagine his dreams. Canada Customs was sort and allowed him to sleep through their couple of short concerns for me. It was sad to see him sleepily stagger up the sidewalk to his stark reality, after getting just left a planet exactly where I'd bet no 1 would think he had been.

Somehow I thought I would obtain a phonecall from Curtis the next day. But it never ever came. Two days later I had a very great cause 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 amish chicken coop give to Curtis. An autographed yearbook was included also.

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

Aid Society.

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