Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 63

“I got into a bit of a situationship, and now it’s over. We...

“I got into a bit of a situationship, and now it’s over.  We weren’t exactly ‘together,’ together.  Nothing official.  But we were together every day for like three months: hanging out, talking every day at school, things like that.  But then he just switched up on me, switched up crazy.  Didn’t call me after twelve on New Year’s Eve.  Completely dubbed me.  Then he’s trying to have breakfast the next day, but I ignored him, because he dubbed me on New Year’s Eve.  After that he stopped texting completely.  I spent five days in bed.  Looking at old pictures.  FaceTiming with friends.  Crying.  Then yesterday I texted him and he responded with one word.  He might as well have not responded.  And I was like whatever, fuck it.  So I made myself a smoothie.  I came outside to sit in the sun.  And it’s all over for him now, because I’ve got that New Year energy.  I can feel it.  It’s on me.  If he comes back now, it’s a dub for him.”

“I’m running for congress. I’m actually on the way right now to...

“I’m running for congress.  I’m actually on the way right now to meet with some union representatives to ask for their endorsement.  The whole experience has been a whirlwind.  I’ve been working as a special education teacher for the past eight years, so all of this is new to me.  Fundraising is definitely more soul-sucking than I expected it to be.  I don’t have many millionaires in my network, so it involves making thousands of cold calls.  Sometimes I can spend four hours on the phone without making a single connection.  I’m running against an entrenched incumbent.  And he’s been in power for over thirty years, so he collects $2800 checks without even asking.  My only real chance is to expand the electorate.  Only ten percent of the people in my district even voted during the last election.  So I’ve been spending most of my time in lower income communities, and communities of color, speaking directly to them.  These people are often excluded from the conversation because it’s assumed they don’t vote.  But I’ll talk to anyone.  About the military industrial complex.  About climate change.  About the school-to-prison pipeline.  I just stand out on train platforms during rush hour, and if somebody makes eye contact, I’m going for it.“

“Drugs are ‘cunning, baffling, and powerful.’ They teach us...

“Drugs are ‘cunning, baffling, and powerful.’  They teach us that in NA.  Drugs can change your soul.  I’ve seen it happen to so many people.  But through twenty years of crack addiction, I always maintained my sense of self.  I took so many beatings from drug dealers.  I had my skull fractured, my nose broken, I lost an eye.  I was shot twice with a 44 magnum at point blank range.  But despite all these afflictions, despite all that darkness, I was able to maintain my sanity and self-respect.  I’d never rape anyone.  Wouldn’t attack anyone.  Would never rob with a gun or a knife.  Wouldn’t yell, or scream, or frighten people.  That’s not who I was.  I never forgot my name.  I never forgot my birthday.  I used to go to the library, and open the encyclopedia, and memorize all the muscles and nerves and organs.  I wanted to document myself.  I could always locate my sternohyoid.  And my thyrohyoid.  I’ve always known my human worth.  I think so much of that came from my mother.  There’s a word called ‘superego,’ and it means how you’re trained by your parents and stuff like that.  It’s the thing that guides you.  I can still hear my mother’s voice talking to me today.  Telling me to take care of myself.  And to respect myself.  Saying: ‘You’re a good person, Frederick.’  That’s one thing she always did.  She always called me by my name.  Even when I let her down.  Even when I stole from her.  Even when the whole world was ignoring me.  She never called me ‘son.’  Never ‘boy.’  Never ‘idiot.’  She always called me Frederick.  And she told me that I’d always been a good person.”

“My mother came to New York from Alabama at the age of nineteen....

“My mother came to New York from Alabama at the age of nineteen.  She had nothing but a high school diploma.  She almost didn’t make it.  There was so much pressure because she was all alone.  Later in life she came clean.  She told me that she’d gotten so depressed that she turned on the gas one night.  But my brother and I started crying in the crib.  And she was so touched that she decided to keep going.  She became a nurse at Lenox Hill hospital.  She was married three times.  Three sets of children.  Each time her husband claimed she wouldn’t make it without him.  Each time she said ‘Go on ahead.’  She taught us all the proverbs.  She taught us to love ourselves.  The punishments could be harsh.  Sometimes she’d go at us with the extension cord.  But I always knew there was a steak dinner waiting for me at the end.  She was only hard on me because she wanted me to succeed, which I never did.  Thirty years on the street.  Twenty years addicted to crack.  But she never gave up on me.  Even during the darkest times, whenever I showed up, she’d open the door.  She’d cook me a meal.  She’d let me get warm.  She’d let me shower.  But she’d never give me a dime.  And I always had to leave.  But on the way out, she’d always say: ‘I love you Freddy, no matter what you do.’  We had ten good years together after I got clean.  She’d come to some of my programs.  She’d tell me how proud she was that I turned my life around.  The last time I saw her, when she was lying in the hospital, with one hundred percent cancer, I kissed her forehead and told her I loved her.  And she said: ‘I love you Freddy.’  Those were her last words.  Two days later she passed.  She didn’t wheeze, or sigh, or scream, or grunt.  She just went to sleep.”

“I’m trying to be an actor. Right now I’m on the way to a call...

“I’m trying to be an actor.  Right now I’m on the way to a call back, which is good.  But it’s for a low budget promo video.  And the day rate only applies to the shoot.  Even if I get it, it’ll barely be minimum wage.  And that’s a problem.  Because I don’t have one of these situations where my parents are comfortable.  I can’t just go home and take a break from the world.  Everyone in our family has to chip in, so I’m not able to go very long without a paycheck.  There have been periods where I’ve stopped auditioning for months while I work another job.  It’s been years of not being fully in one thing or another.  I’m 36 now, and I’m in the same place I was when I was 28.  Living paycheck-to-paycheck.  Living with roommates.  Not much changing in my lifestyle.  So I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions.  Can I afford to still be in this place when I’m 44?  Do I even want this enough to stay in the hustle?  Does anyone deserve something they won’t go after 100 percent?  And if the answer is ‘no,’ what does that mean for someone like me, who doesn’t have the stability or confidence to go after anything 100 percent?”

“They call me the Filipino James Bond. I was personal lawyer to...

“They call me the Filipino James Bond.  I was personal lawyer to the station chief of the CIA in the Philippines.  My forte was public and private international law.  You know, if a German guy has a child with a prostitute in Hong Kong, and it’s born in Africa, who gets custody?  That kind of stuff.  It was twenty-two months of stories and adventures.  The CIA got everything out of me.  Then they left me for dead.  So I retreated into the jungles for seven years of silence.  These were the deepest and filthiest of jungles.  The worst in the world.  Witches everywhere.  Genuine cannibals.  Eaters of flesh and blood.  I kept silent for seven years and only emerged when called by the Lord.  You don’t have to ask my name.  Just read Revelations 12.  Then tell everyone I’m here.  And that you met me.”

“I’d just started grad school in Tennessee. I was a...

“I’d just started grad school in Tennessee.  I was a little lonely, so I might have been looking for some familial bonds.  But I actually got the idea from an episode of West Wing. One of the main characters was a Big Brother.  So I did a quick Google search, and found that the East Tennessee chapter was one of the strongest in the country.  What really prompted me to join was learning that the little brother list is much longer than the little sister list.  The organization gave me a personality test, and I got matched with Brandon.  He was extremely shy.  I had no idea what to do.  In the beginning there was a lot of silence.  And whenever he did talk, I’d just say: ‘I get that, I get that.’  After a few days of that, he told me: ‘Thanks for trying to get me.’  Soon Brandon became my best friend in Knoxville.  And I think I shared that title for a little while, until he got older and met more friends.  Food was a big part of our friendship.  We always went to Shoney’s.  I still have a picture of the first time we went.  He filled half his plate with red jello, and the other half with chicken nuggets.  I focused a lot on his academics.  I’m a big school nerd, so that was my comfort zone.  We did a lot of homework together.  I wasn’t aiming for him to get A’s.  I was just aiming for a feeling of progress.  His improvement at school was huge.  He even got ‘The Turnaround Award’ in 8th Grade.  That was such a big moment for both of us.  We’ve come a long way since then.  Now we’re looking for the right college.”

“I’d just turned twelve. I think Dad realized that I needed...

“I’d just turned twelve.  I think Dad realized that I needed somebody in my life.  He was working two jobs so I never had anyone to talk to.  Mom wasn’t around.  Middle school was a complete disaster. I had no friends and was getting bullied tons.  Then one day I came home from school, and Dad was home, which was shocking, because he normally worked until 9 pm.  And he introduced me to this guy.  I had no clue who he was.  He said his name was Adam, and that he was my ‘Big Brother,’ and he was going to help me.  But I had no clue what that meant.  I just thought it was a friend of my dad’s or something.  We were only supposed to meet two times a month.  But it ended up being more like three times a week.  He helped me study.  I could call him whenever I felt sad.  And he helped me with my anger outbursts.  Whenever I was having a bad day, we’d go to a bridge near his house and throw a bunch of rocks in the creek.  He helped me so much over the years.  Even after he moved to New York, I was able to do the last two years of high school by myself.  He promised me that if I graduated with all B’s, he’d fly me up to New York for a visit.  Well I did better than that.  I graduated with all A’s and B’s.”

“My mom’s on her third round of cancer treatments. It’s...

“My mom’s on her third round of cancer treatments.  It’s getting worse.  And she’s only 58, so she’s pretty young.  But she’s been a champ.  She’s this indestructible force.  We actually look a lot alike, which is terrifying, as any woman in her thirties will tell you.  She’s stout.  And strong.  Her entire life she’s worked in factories, and sanded muscle cars, and thrown bales of hay.  We lived in Appalachia, and she was basically a single mother.  The dad stuff was messy and violent.  But through it all she’s been a total bad ass.  So it’s been especially hard to watch her go through all this.  She’s losing a lot of weight.  She gets tired easily.  But mainly, she just seems worried.  And it’s hard to watch.  Because I’ve watched her go through this long, tough life.  And she’s never seemed worried.  But now she seems worried.  But I know when she sees this on Facebook, she’s going to call me up, and shout into the phone with her raspy, southern voice: ‘Why’d you say I’m scared?  You’re the one that’s scared!”

“My husband hasn’t been home in 153 days. There’s a legal case...

“My husband hasn’t been home in 153 days.  There’s a legal case right now, so I can’t say exactly what happened.  But he suffered a catastrophic brain injury in July.  And so many of his memories are gone.  Some days I’ll go visit him and it just won’t stick.  He still remembers my name, but his memories about me are all wrong.  Or the details are mixed up.  But he’s one hundred percent convinced they’re true.  He can’t be corrected.  He’s steadfast in his memories.  Right now I feel like we’re on two different tracks.  I’m just trying to find the places where they merge.  He recognized our wedding ring yesterday, even though it was around my neck, that was big for me.  It was a moment when our realities came together.  Our 45th anniversary is this Saturday.  I’m just hoping it will be as normal as possible.  I’m going to cook him dinner.  Hopefully he’ll eat.  And maybe we can share some of the same memories.  I’m not sure if that’s enough for me, but it has to be.  It has to be enough.  Because he’s not going anywhere.  And neither am I.  We’re in this together.”