On loss and in Memoriam

A friend of mine from high school lost his brother recently, and as is often said it help put things into even better perspective. I have a friend my age with multiple sclerosis who is slowly losing her mobility, my sister is at risk of eventually losing her large intestine if her meds don’t take, and my old mentor has almost completely lost his vision due to a degenerative retinal disease. Though the, “it could be worse” way of framing things can be problematic, in certain instances it illustrates the magnitude, or lack thereof, of certain grievances. Stated differently, your problems could easily be seen as blessings to others. As it concerns myself, at present the only thing I have to “complain” about is the dental situation, which next year’s tax refund could easily solve. Problem? Me thinks not.

But allow me to take it back to the impetus for this post, my friend Phil’s brother, Arthur. Though I have fond memories of playing video games with him during my high school years, whenever I think of him, one anecdote in particular stands out.

In middle school I was smoking one of my first cigarettes in the woods, with my best friend at the time, and a couple of acquaintances, one of whom was named Alex. Before the cigarette, which was being passed around like a joint, found itself between my eager fingers, Alex was quick to warn me: “Don’t nigger-lip it.” Though infuriated by the epithet, it’s always been in my nature to internalize anger, and play it cool rather than to get visibly upset, let alone do anything physical, however badly I may want to. The memory, however, remained ingrained in my mind as my humanity and innocence was accosted by his crude admonition.

Fast forward to the high school years. The “nigger-lip” incident had been pushed to the psychic recesses, until I heard that this same Alex had stolen something from Arthur. As the story goes, Arthur went to his house, politely knocked on his doorbell, and then proceeded to knock him with a right hand directly to the bridge of his now broken nose. Alex was left concussed, and I smiled thinking that Karma did indeed have a name, and it was Arthur, my avenger.