Where Does the Parent Stand?

by Tolerance Lamar

Overview

A week before his fifteenth birthday, Tolerance Lamar became a father to a baby boy. At the time, he knew he wanted to be a good dad. But for this underage dropout with a weakness for theft, parenting would be a long and arduous journey. In this memoir, Lamar reflects on his life journey as he fathers six children with three women and examines a parent’s role in the proper upbringing of today’s youth. In Where Does the Parent Stand? Lamar talks about his past—one that’s littered with betrayal, resentment, and bad choices. He discusses his mistakes, and in retrospect, provides parenting advice to help make a difference for others struggling with today’s issues of raising children. Where Does the Parent Stand? presents a true, dramatic story about what it’s like to become a parent at a young age and the daily struggle to not only survive, but also provide. Lamar offers a testament to how he escaped the concrete jungle in order to live a meaningful life. Tolerance Lamar lives in Tampa, Floida.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475981384
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	08/13/2015
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	238
File size:	279 KB

About the Author

A week before his fifteenth birthday, Tolerance Lamar became a father to a baby boy. At the time, he knew he wanted to be a good dad. But for this underage dropout with a weakness for theft, parenting would be a long and arduous journey.

In this memoir, Lamar reflects on his life journey as he fathers six children with three women and examines a parent's role in the proper upbringing of today's youth. In Where Does the Parent Stand? Lamar talks about his past—one that's littered with betrayal, resentment, and bad choices. He discusses his mistakes, and in retrospect, provides parenting advice to help make a difference for others struggling with today's issues of raising children.

Where Does the Parent Stand? presents a true, dramatic story about what it's like to become a parent at a young age and the daily struggle to not only survive, but also provide. Lamar offers a testament to how he escaped the concrete jungle in order to live a meaningful life. Tolerance Lamar lives in Tampa, Florida.

Read an Excerpt

Where Does the Parent Stand?

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By Tolerance Lamar

iUniverse

Copyright © 2015 Tolerance Lamar
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-8086-8

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CHAPTER 1

AUGUST 17, 1980 TAMPA FLORIA

On a hot, sunny day, seven days after my 15th birthday, I officially became a father to a beautiful baby boy. Ms. Bennett, Roxann's mother smiled as she announced that I was a daddy. I was excited by the news as I headed out the front door. As I walked through the hot sand and made my way home, I couldn't help but notice that this was not the place for a child to live. As a young teen, it was hard to see my little 3-year-old sister, Keitha playing outside. The dirty hot projects, what we called Central Park, were a chokehold on my pride. The thought of my baby sister playing with my son in the backyard of a fifteen by fifteen foot area in hot sand, peppered with patches of dead grass surrounded by five foot of concrete blocks made me wish that I was rich instead of poor. The crack heads and drug dealers walked about as if they were content.

As I entered my mom's apartment, I grimaced at the dirty kitchen that was infested with roaches. It was always humid and I felt swallowed by the dirty walls and worn furniture. My mother's home was not like my father's apartment. He too was poor and lived in a low income apartment across town, but his apartment was clean, comfortable and well-furnished. I called for Rena, my 17-year-old sister from the staircase, but there was no answer. I climbed the stairs and went into the bathroom. As I splashed water onto my face, I could hear my mother calling hogs, snoring, from her bedroom. There was no need to wake her and tell her that Roxann had a boy. She was too drunk off of her cheap gin to give a sincere response. So, I left the house and headed for the bus stop. When I got there, I lit my celebration cigar and waited anxiously for a ride to the hospital so I could welcome my son to the world. While traveling on the bus, I had a strange feeling of importance that I, Tolerance Lamar, at the age of 15, was now the youngest father in Tampa Bay. That day I named my son after myself, and as I held him, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of the need to make sure that my son had the best of everything that life had to offer. However, my son's mother Roxann and I had to live with my mother. In order to get our own place, I had to find a job somewhere, somehow, even if it meant quitting school. I began to feel the pressure knowing Roxann and my son depended on me.

I vowed to myself that I would go looking for a job that following day and if I didn't find one, I would keep looking until I did. Even if I couldn't find one, I knew that I had darker alternatives. At the tender age of 8, I learned from my father how to be a thief. I know that may sound strange, but when I was a kid, my dad would yell for my sister and me to get in the car. He would then drive us to a store of his choice, which was usually a small grocery market or convenience store. My sister and I would go into the aisle and stuff canned goods and other food items into our clothes and walk out. We would hit two to three stores, until the backseat of the car and its floor was full.

I remember one day we were out stealing and we stopped at a convenient store. We parked in front of the door that you go in at. Dad told my sister and me to stay in the car. He went inside to steal a case of beer. On his way out the cashier hit the electronic locks, locking him inside. I remember hearing the click sound as the door locked. I just stared at the door with my mouth open. I was like, oh boy, this is not good. Suddenly the door flew open and out came our Dad with blood on his clothes and his open pocket knife in hand. He was limping as he dashed into the car and fled the scene. He said nothing to my sister and I, it was a silent ride back. Right to this day I still don't know what happened inside that store. I do know one thing, I'm glad my sister and I weren't in the store to see it.

During that time, we were actually living with my father's mother, our Grandma Stacey. She was down to earth, but very stern. When she told us to do something, she expected it done promptly. Grandma reminded me of the dark skinned lady that played in Beloved; the movie with Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover. Oprah played as a slave named Sethe, whom escaped from a cruel Kentucky plantation. Sethe recalled this elderly dark skinned woman who would preach in the woods to her slave friends and family; she would have them dancing and singing in the woods. Grandma Stacey looked just like that old woman.

I recall one night my dad's television blew out on him.

He must have been complaining to his mother about it because she yelled, "Go steal you a TV!"

I was smart enough to comprehend that Grandma Stacey was the root behind the stealing, which back in the day, everyone called it hustling or hit a lick. Although I was more than willing to work to support my family, I knew that if push came to shove, I would hustle or hit a lick, if you will.

Months passed and nothing was going as planned. I could not find a job because I was an underage dropout. I did end up stealing to get by, but even that had decreased because the stores were tightening up their security. I had been caught twice and was sent to W.T. Edwards Juvenile Detention Center for twenty one days on each charge. At that time, W.T. Edwards was easy time because the girls that were locked up could go to the meetings with the boys. Although the girls were fun, that place wasn't for me and I didn't want to wind up there again. I couldn't fathom the thought of not being around to look after my son and Roxann. They meant the world to me.

Roxann and I were in it together and we did our best to make it work. When our son was born, she was seventeen, almost two years older than me. She stood about 5 foot 4 inches and 110 pounds soak and wet; her skin tone was smooth brown. What she lacked in height and weight, she more than made up for in feistiness and frankness.

I was bright skin in complexion an only stood 5 foot 5 inches and 158 pounds. We both are short in stature and I was also short in temper as well. Roxann's feistiness and frankness to talk crap to me would sometimes result to her running across the field in full speed like a Grey Hound; and I was right in her tracks like a Rhodesian Ridgeback snapping at her buttocks. I didn't like when my woman got too mouthy with me and she knew it. Anyway, we both attended Monroe Junior High together. Many times, we would skip school and play cards, gambling from dusk till dawn. We pretty much did what we wanted to do, which eventually led to our predicament.

While we were a good pair, our relationship was turbulent. I was Roxann's first and only, and I wanted to keep it that way. Yet I was promiscuous during our relationship. One day, she got back at me by having an affair with my blood brother Jensen. Jensen was also a couple of years older than I. The fact that I had only sisters and no brothers, I thought Jensen would be a good friend; a pair of brothers if you will. With that in mind, we performed a ritual to become blood brothers. We sliced a thin incision into our index finger and then tightly held our hands together, allowing our blood to merge. I was the doctor who couldn't take his own medicine. In a jealous rage, I attacked Jensen when I learned he had relations with my Roxann, and that's when I discovered something about fighting and that the knee is powerful, because I got my ass whipped with a capital W.

The first thing Jensen did was grab my hair, which was lengthy at that time. When he got a good grip onto my hair, he repeatedly drove his knee into my stomach and upper torso while holding down my head. I was good and dizzy by the time he let me go. Embarrassed, I stumbled away looking like a drunken Don King. From that experience, I promised myself that I would never pursue a fight with a head full of hair and, not to mention, trust a blood brother again.

Such was the nature of my relationship with Roxann, but my problems didn't end with joblessness and girlfriend issues. Not long after getting my ass whipped, my 21-year-old sister on my father side named Angela, suddenly fell ill and was admitted in the hospital. Within a few hours, she was pronounced dead. That was another big pill for me to swallow. Life seems to be unfair, and it is, but it is something we should not take for granted.

When I turned 16, my life seemed to go down a more destructive path. I didn't finish school, but I graduated from stealing food, diapers and clothes to breaking and entering and auto theft. Things got so bad and desperate that I even tried to snatch a purse and failed. The little old lady held a surprisingly tight hold on her purse as I dragged her, and the look that was on her face made me let go and flee the scene. I vowed to never do that again. Even today, years and years later, the look of shock and sadness on that old lady's face is something I will never forget.

Along with my increasing desperation, my juvenile criminal record was increasing as well. Eventually, I found myself partying with the boys in the hood and the consequences of this led to numerous street fights. I got into fights to earn respect from both the guys and gals. Most of the girls in the hood admired how I stood my ground. However, some girls would flirt with me, telling me that I was a pretty boy with hands. The girls that admired me were pretty much the ones that dropped their panties. It was this type of temptation that made it easy for me to sometimes forget how bad things really were.

Before I knew it I started getting violence charges against me such as concealed firearm and assault charges. These charges came about because the thugs were growing bigger and stronger and would sometimes pick fights with me. Consequently, at the age of 16, with a little juggling by the States Attorney, I was certified and bound over as an adult and thrown in jail with some of the stinkiest, greasiest and most ruthless drug-crazed adults I have ever seen. This was enough to scare me straight, at least for a while. I needed to get out of there, and I knew that my mom and Roxann didn't have money to bond me out. Their little welfare checks would be almost gone by the time they hit the mailbox. Thanks to my Dad, I was eventually bonded out. Upon walking outside the jail house, my father greeted me with a pat on the back as if he had my back.

I was put on probation and yet, my stealing did not stop. In fact, my experience in the county jail ultimately didn't deter me from a life of crime; it inspired me to be more cautious and find more clever ways to get over. Furthermore, shortly after my release, I found out that the mother of my partner-in-crime, Larry, was trying to convince him that I was bad news and that he should stay away from me. This left me feeling hurt and angry. It stung knowing that his mom thought badly of me; I was getting the bad rap when she did not see that her son was not the little angel that she thought him to be. Hell, to be honest, Larry was the master mind of most of what I did. He was the one who knew what crime to commit and where. And, on top of that, he did not care what it took to get what he wanted. That's why we made such good partners-in-crime; I was bold and he was cold. However, Larry preferred stealing cars and breaking into stuff, while I felt more comfortable shoplifting. I remember walking through the projects to Larry's house; and I called out Larry's name to let him know that I was outside. His mother came to the door and confronted me about leading her son down the wrong path.

"It's not me! It's your badass son!" I said angrily before walking off.

Shortly thereafter, I was arrested on a grand theft charge that violated my probation. Again, I was reinstated. It was this situation that convinced me that my five-finger discounts had to stop. There had to be a better way to make it in this concrete jungle.

Days passed and in the midst of my struggles, I was informed of some shocking news. Marshall, a girl I once dated, was murdered by her estranged boyfriend. She had beautiful brown skin with unusually long natural hair, and was now dead from a bullet to her head. A couple of days before that, a woman was found in the park naked and dead with a soda bottle stuck up into her vagina. This, along with a string of other brutal murders that were committed, made me realize how cruel people can be. Black on black violent crimes had become a norm and I knew that I didn't want to grow old in this neighborhood. I began to try to figure out how to escape.

Finally, I landed a job at Morrison Cafeteria. Later, I landed a second job at a local bar as a DJ. I was pretty proud of myself; things were looking up. As for Rena, who was now 19, she had become a mom to a baby boy, by a young man named Don. Don and I befriended each other shortly after meeting. He agreed to open and DJ until I got off work from Morrison.

Disc jockeying at the age of 17 was beyond exciting and even though I was underage, my boss didn't mind. All he wanted was a DJ who could bring in a crowd and I most certainly did that. My DJ name was T.T., better known as Terribly Terrific. On occasions, my mom and dad would come out to drink and dance the night away. My paycheck didn't amount to much, due to my bar tabs, but we all had big fun.

The good time came to an end one night when Don forcibly lifted me up off the ground by my collar and threatened to kick my ass for no apparent reason. The crowd had been good that night. Everyone was jamming off of the latest song by Barbara Mason, Another Man Is Beating My Time. Next thing I knew Don jacked me up; my hand hit the turntable and the music stopped to a scratching halt, everybody turned toward the disturbance. Don was well over 6 foot tall and was very muscular, so I had to think fast. I tried to reason with him.

"Don! What is wrong with you? Put me down and tell me what I did!"

Don proceeded to drag me out the back door of the club by my collar. As he was pulling me, I was pleading for him to let me go, while at the same time, I was easing my pocketknife out of my back pocket.

Click! His ass was mine!

I sliced Don across the chest and he let me go turning to get away from me; when he turned I tried to slice his ear off. I was so mad that I was crying, and slung a couple of pool balls at him as he dashed around the pool table and out the front door. Finally I cooled down and started packing up my equipment when Don returned with the cops. He was wrapped with ace bandages like a mummy from Egypt.

I grimaced as he pointed his finger toward me to be seized. In a flash, I was arrested and charged with a violent crime. My probation had been violated; therefore, there would be no bond.

After three weeks sitting in jail, I finally went to court. My father was there to speak on my behalf. Thankfully, my probation was extended with a written order to stay out of bars. Morrison Café was my hope to have something positive going for me. My request to resume work was denied, I was terminated. So there I was, right back in the same old ball game, a game that I was getting tired of playing. I was frustrated and I knew that I was walking on thin ice. A judge had already become tired of Larry's behavior and sentenced him to prison. I knew I had to stay out of trouble or I could easily be next. I didn't know what else to do but daydream and hope for a miracle.

Nineteen eighty three was a busy year. I was 17 when Roxann gave birth to a baby daughter, whom we named Tina. In addition to that, in the same year, I fathered another daughter by another woman, whom I named Theresa. Theresa's mother was Roxann's next door neighbor, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was a 15-year-old girl from the Carolinas. She was a dark, gorgeous girl about 5 foot 7 inches, was big-boned, had a curvy frame, weighed about 140 pounds, and was crowned with shiny, thick, shoulder length hair. Hell, I didn't even know of her until she started whistling at me from her bedroom window; which was fifteen foot from Roxann's window. It seemed as though Elizabeth staked out and watched to see when she would have an opportunity to seduce me with bold whistles. A whistle is usually something a man would give a good looking woman. I wasn't expecting a girl to do that to me. Needless to say, her bird calls landed me in her bed.

How could I resist?

She would often exude a smile that I found to be irresistible. She would flash the same smile whether she was giggling or fuming. When it came to Roxann, however, she had only one setting on her dial of emotions: pissed. Whenever she spotted Roxann, she'd never hesitate to fix a fiery stare on her to make it clear that she wanted her head on a platter. And yet, Roxann never blinked. The two inevitably started fighting one another. I remember Elizabeth, fueled by jealousy, started the first fight and lost as Roxann got the best of her. Elizabeth was a girl who ran on pure emotions. Her anger and false pride fueled her to attack Roxann on many occasions. These scraps were no little cat fights either; those girls battled like gladiators, scratching each other's eyes and bruising each other's faces. During one fight Elizabeth swung on Roxann who quickly ducked causing Elizabeth's fist to land right smack in Roxann's mother's eye. From that day on, Ms. Bennett made sure to yell stop it from a distance. A lot of neighbors were impressed with how Roxann handled Elizabeth, who was much bigger and meaner. The fight between the two young mothers was ceaseless; they scrapped before their pregnancies, during, and after. It got so common to see them going at it that I started betting on who would win. To be honest, to see the girls fighting over me made me feel like I had it going on.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Where Does the Parent Stand? by Tolerance Lamar. Copyright © 2015 Tolerance Lamar. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

1. AUGUST 17, 1980 TAMPA FLORIDA, 1,
2. THE CRACK ATTACK, 13,
3. THE STEP MOM, 20,
4. STUNNING STORIES, 26,
5. BAD DECISIONS, 39,
6. SHE LOVES ME SHE LOVES ME NOT, 48,
7. HOME SWEET HOME, 56,
8. RON'S RECALL, 63,
9. LOVE, LUST AND INFATUATION, 72,
10. HOLIDAY BLUES, 85,
11. HOW THE TIDE TURNS, 96,
12. SAD EYES, 112,
13. TEARS OF A CLOWN, 132,
14. AMBIVALENCE, 158,
15. THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD, I SHALL NOT WANT, 171,
16. DAM I SLIPPED!, 196,
17. A WORLD OF ITS OWN, 204,
AFTERWORD, 223,