Today would have been my brother’s “Doc” 55 birthday. He was murdered (“shot”) on my birthday, Dec. 1st and officially declared dead on my sister’s birthday, Dec. 2, 1981. He was the baby boy. For those of you who remember Lawson School, he drew in the long hallway the history of Chicago from its beginnings to the Chicago Fire. An art teacher at Hess was so impressed by his artistic talent; he paid for him to attend the Art Institute of Chicago. He was also a mathematician and an expert draftsmen; all the dynamics needed for an architect or engineer. His murder ended that dream! His death changed my mother permanently. Every summer, she took all the neighborhood kids to 10 South Kedzie to sign them up for summer jobs; NYC (neighborhood youth corp.) its equivalent is now CEDA. Younger kids would see her in the street and excitedly tell her they would be 14 soon so she could take them to sign them up for a summer job. After Doc’s death, she never did it again. He would ask me if he could take my kids to the store to buy them some chips and return 6 to 7 hours later. My babies were in diapers and still used bottles. He always came back with a new box of diapers, bottles and milk. He would laugh at me for being so angry at him, smile and walk out the door to go home as I watched my children chase after him. I miss him. Other than older family members, I seldom if ever run into someone who remembers him anymore. My fear is this little story will replay itself over and over. Particularly with the new “Conceal & Carry” gun law in Chicago. If someone wants to do you harm and approaches you with their gun drawn; what chance do you have to pull out your concealed gun to defend yourself before you’re shot. With the African American history with Chicago Police, how many young men (or women) will be killed by an officer who “thought” you had a gun? I pray every day, every day! - there are no more Yvons or this century’s equivalent Trayvon. It is a pain you never learn to let go or get over. It just becomes an integral part of your life; like breathing. RIP Yvon (“Doc”). It is has been 31 years since your transition and the pain remains. I truly love and miss you so much.
Posted on: Tue, 13 Aug 2013 15:28:29 +0000
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