PATTI AND THE RAPPER

Not sure if I have mentioned but I have an eclectic taste in music. Some types I like more than others but I pretty much run the gamut from the Blues to Classical. It is a mood thing. Only two forms of music am I unable to find a mood to fit, Rap and Progressive Jazz. Can't honestly say I have given either a serious try. Like a baby with a mouth full of strained peas, I will not suffer the whole jar to make a decision. I just spit it out and hope for better fare.

After my early retirement, I took a job as a toll collector on the Florida Turnpike that I have written about earlier. There was a terrific turnover of employees at the turnpike so we were always meeting new co-workers. Unless you enjoyed working with the public and could tolerate low pay, there wasn't much incentive to stay.

The constant turnover always interested me as I got to work with a huge variety of people from retirees like myself to a girl whom we were sure had been raised by wolves and an older gentleman who wasn't quite "paper trained", but that is for another post. It was rarely boring.

Paul was one of the newbies. He was a very nice looking young man, barely 20 with an open friendly face that immediately won me over. I am an easy mark for a quick grin and always enjoyed the lack of entrenched opinions the very young offered. They are some of my favorite people for they haven't learned to even spell the word "jaded".

I had my back to him while I collected tolls when I heard low mutterings accompanied by a rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the counter. When I asked him what he was doing, he got a bit red and said he was "spitting." Seems I had found the button to his flood gates with that question. He opened up about rapping for the next couple of hours.

I learned that freestyle rapping is "spitting" lyrics in ciphers(or alone) that is made up on the spot. While a person may sneak in a line or two that was written the night before, most of the flow was improvised. The often crude language and denigration of women of the popular rappers left me cold. After my few previous experiences with rap, the music form met the same fate in my world as strained peas. Brief, yuck and gone.

What little knowledge I had about Rap led me to believe it was strictly a "black thing" performer wise. I was totally unaware the hottest rapper at the time was Eminem ( pronounced M and M which is a take from his initials). Eminem's real name was Marshall Mathers and he is quite white. Paul had dreams to be the new Eminem.

With a captive, white haired, arthritic but curious audience of one, Paul would entertain on quiet nights. His "spit" was often too quick for me to follow and he cleaned it up for my benefit.

I could see the guy had an extremely fertile mind.He sometimes spit stupid stuff just to make a rhyme. However, when he strayed from free style and put his thoughts to paper, he produced profound and often beautiful phrases that amazed me coming from such a young man. The kid could really turn a phrase.

I actually badgered him to do something with it besides serenading a senior citizen. I told him to quit dreaming about his "music" and to actively see if he could make it. He wouldn't know till he at least tried. Oddly, he did just that and started making self recordings and putting them on the Net. He was invited to perform at area concerts. Being white made him a rarity and his good looks helped. He had moderate success.

Have to admit I was a bit sorry to have lit a fire under him. I was torn for while I think everyone should follow their passion, I feared for him getting into what is often a violent profession. He was a clean cut kid and I wondered how long he would stay that way. At that time, the Rap profession was riddled with drugs and murder. It is only slightly better now. The old lady in me feared he would either become an addict, imprisoned or dead.

Paul was also a talented graffiti type artist. No he did not deface walls and buildings but put his drawings on rolls of paper. When he wasn't talking or spitting, he was making elaborate and quite beautiful graffiti drawings. Again, an art form I was not the least familiar with but one that is actually getting recognition. I sometimes think Paul wished he had been born a poor black child.

Hoping the art might take him away from the possible violence of his music choice, I talked to him about combining his talents of writing and art and perhaps go for the development of graphic novels which he was keenly interested in.

It was fascinating to see how the young mind so eagerly sought out the life paths to take and the lack of fear as the decisions were made. He eventually got excited enough to decide to leave us to enroll in junior college to study computer graphics and composition.

I was going to miss this young man that I had all but made an honorary grandchild, but was thrilled with his choice. The night before he left, he worked feverishly behind me on a scroll of paper. Being both sad and happy he was leaving, I kind of wished our last night working together would have been spent talking, but he quietly labored away.

At the end of the evening he presented me with an elaborate drawing he had spent his free time that evening making for me. I was totally blown away. It contained pictorial fragments of a lot of our conversations. It really was a picture of our friendship. He simply entitled it DREAMS. The other collectors totally loved it and wanted him to do one for them but he refused saying mine was special.

I know I still have it and wanted to take a picture of it to show you , but I fear I put it in one of those "safe" places that is really only safe from me. I still have a storage building with stuff that made the trip from Florida but that my small house will not allow space for.

It seemed from the drawings that I had touched him as much as he had touched me. Sadly, I do not know what became of him. We occasionally ran into each other after he left the turnpike and I once met his delightful girlfriend by accident. She said he was still in school and happy. He may have made several different career choices since I have seen him. That is the wonderful luxury of youth.

Do you find the "different" people or lifestyles threatening or interesting?