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Chapter II 

The Shepherds

My mother and father were young when they had me. Mom, a straight-up church girl, was about 16 and my dad was about 17. My dad was from 42 & Pike. I've got to say this though. They were young, but they were still real parents with ethics, morals, rules, and regulations. I wasn't allowed to sit around and listen to or interrupt grown folk's conversations unless it was an emergency. I had to do my homework before I was allowed to go outside to play. I had to come in the house before it started to get dark. Now children run up and down the street until two or three o'clock in the morning.

I loved my dad and still do, even though when I was young he took his frustrations of being a young parent out on me. That's one of the reasons I believe child abuse exists. The child becomes the punching bag. But at least he taught me and my brothers how to fight back. We were from Haines Street and my father was Deac. We had to know how to fight.

My dad wasn't my role model. I didn't want to be like him because I was afraid of him. I believe he loved me despite his abusive behavior, but I didn't like his brand of love. He wanted to protect me from the streets, so he did his very best to keep me from participating in neighborhood events, such as parties at recreation centers, and the like. And because he was who he was, anything going down in the neighborhood he knew about it before I did. For example, one day there was going to be a big party happening that night.

Everybody was getting ready for the party and so was I- picking my bush out, throwing on my rolled-up khakis like the OG's around the way, buttoning up my shirt to the neck, and hanging the handkerchief out of my back pocket. I was about to roll out when I heard my pop say," Where you think you going, boy?" “I’m going to the party,” I answered. I always called him dad. It was a respect thing that we were taught.

Elders were always to be respected and Dad was at the top of the food chain. “Oh, no you're not,” he said. “How come, Dad? Everybody else is going,” I said. He said, “I named you Michael not everybody else, and

Michael is not going.” I was mad as hell until I found out what he already knew. The gang was going to attack a gang from across town that they were beefing with, at the recreation center. Somebody got killed that night and somebody went to jail or at least that was what I heard.

When I was about 7 or 8 years old, I remember old heads from a gang called Summerville walking from Germantown High School right down Haines Street through our territory. Even at a young age, I knew that was a violation. One of them told me to tell Haines Street that Summerville was here. Haines Street was outnumbered in Germantown High in the ‘60s.