“I won't deny it, I'm a straight ridah
You don't wanna fuck with me
Got the police bustin at me
But they can't do nuttin to a G”
You don't wanna fuck with me
Got the police bustin at me
But they can't do nuttin to a G”
heeyyy, just a little 2Pac to set the pace. RIP Pac
So it’s 1996, I’m working in the criminal justice system,
getting my strength in street knowledge and conspiracy theories from the homies on
lockdown. I’m making the best of
living in Yakima. Working at
Yakima County Department of Correction, attending Yakima Valley Community
College, and my mom, the natural born hustler that she is calls up one day and
says:
“Well since you think you’re grown, living on your own, you
need more money so that you can properly furnish your apartment, so I got you a
job at the Yakima Herald.”
You can imagine my surprise when I was like, “uh, why did
YOU get ME a job when I already have one?” I guess she felt guilty since although I wasn’t living
under her roof, she was still monopolizing my paycheck every two weeks.
Sidebar: why do
you moms do that? Why do you all
think that you have reign over your child’s paycheck? Just take it and do what you want. Luckily for me, I threw a couple “I’m going crazy” tirade’s,
you know, adult temper tantrums and my mom would go from straight jackin my
paycheck to “borrowing” my money and paying me back when she got paid. I mean I used have to really snap the
hell out on Antoinette a couple of times for messing with my money, and if you
knew me and knew my mom, you knew those were pretty ugly. It got to the point where my dear ol
granddaddy, bless his soul, would have to interject:
“dammit Antoinette, leave that girl and her money
alone. Nisa, don’t you give your
momma no more money.”
“Granddaddy, I’m trying not to give her money but she keeps
taking it. I already bankrupt my
Carlos Rossi jug for $350 to get clothes, pay my bills, and now she wants more.
” I’d respond in the middle of my fits.
My mom: “you had $350 in that wine jug, damn? You must get saving money from your
daddy because you damn sure didn’t get it from the Gardner side. Shit, shut up and quit crying, I’ll pay
your ass back when I get my check, shit just give me $400.”
My mom was a real comedian, up there trying to laugh it off
like $400 wasn’t anything in 1996.
Hell $400 is a lot right now! I sure wish I had a 19 year old I could
punk for their money right now.!!!
But in return, sometimes she would hook me up with her rental car to let
me drive to Spokane for the weekend and stunt. AND she was the one who was planning and paying for my 21st
birthday bash in Las Vegas. She
was a good mommy when she wanted to be.
So anyways, as the sole controller of my life and my
destiny, my mom got me a weekend job working at Yakima Herald, stuffing the
Sunday morning inserts (coupons, parade magazines) into a machine that fed the
inserts into the paper. I worked
on Saturday night/Sunday morning, 12am-5am. Can you imagine the tight face I would have when my BFF, Kym,
who I was roommates with, would go out to kick it with my mom, in the cleezy
drinking Alize while I was at work--burning the midnight oil. Yeah, they was straight punking me…no
Ashton.
I on the other hand had another agenda to gain extra money, so
when I went to part time at the county jail, (I could reduce to part time since
I was administering the GED tests for them, so while I was at school myself,
that counted towards being at work since I had to go on campus and pick up and
deliver the tests to the school on behalf of the jail). Therefore, with part time
hours, I decided I’d apply for The Bon Marche. If anyone from Washington State remembers The Bon, it was a
cool place to work, and I worked in the The Cube. Oh, to you all on the East Coast, the Bon really is Macy's and actually was bought by Macy's. Anyways, like I was saying, I worked in The Cube and it was like working at Brass Plum in Nordstrom. So I thought I was real fly, and I was
about to reinvent myself with an entire new wardrobe!
So, I have the job at the jail, the Yakima Herald on the
weekends and The Bon everyday from 4-10pm and on Saturdays 8am-5. I was working 3 jobs AND going to
school. I was holding it down for
Maurice out there in the streets of Yakima! No, Maurice did not become my incarcerated boyfriend, I already had my share of writing
inmates and accepting collect calls from Walla Walla State Pen…got over that phase in
1993!!! Sheesh! Lol
Things were looking good, and one day, while at The Bon, my
manager called me to her office and said, they needed me in HR. I was sweating bullets. I had only worked at the Bon for a
month and I wasn’t late and I didn’t steal anything…I thought about it, but I didn’t. So I got to HR, sweating bullets and
the Director of HR said,
“Lisa, I’m afraid I got a call, there is a family emergency, I have to take you home.”
I wasn’t sure what was going on, and although Yakima is only so big, I
remember that long drive from Downtown Yakima to the West Side of town to my
mom’s house. This was before cell
phones…. well, before I could afford a cell phone, so I couldn’t call my BFF to
find out if she knew what was going on.
I got to the block of my mom’s house and saw police and ambulance
everywhere. I immediately started
crying in the car because I thought something happened to my 86-year-old
granddaddy, which was my entire life, my heartbeat. I got out of my HR manager’s car, only to be told, “Lisa,
your mom was found dead this morning.”
Next: The Bon Marche – Seattle
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