David Joiner- March 25, 2012 to April 3, 2012
I once had a mighty and trustworthy young man in my life, who had always looked out for me under extreme circumstances; he was my hero. My big brother. My friend. His name was Lorenzo Joiner, Jr. I loved him extremely! I loved him more than words can possibly describe. All of the kids in our neighborhood were glad to have him around. He was no bully. There were kids in our community who were afraid of Lorenzo, because he had authorized himself to fight with and against them, because such kids were known as bullies. Lorenzo had been a big brother to all the children in the neighborhood; he was especially a big brother to those children who had no brother at all. He protected all little children. I was known as a hero also, because I was part of the protection program that my big brother had come up with.
My big brother taught himself everything he needed to know about fist fighting. He used to be into boxing, kick-boxing, and all kinds of martial arts. He was compelled—and possessed—to do what was needed to keep a safe and happy environment for the children of ours and surrounding neighborhoods. He worked really hard to do just that.
My brother wasn’t a troublemaker; he solved problems that occurred in the neighborhood. Actually, the problems we had did not originate in our neighborhood, but in places where we went. Places like parks, theaters, and schools, etc. Something out of line always happened. Like an incident that occurred while we were watching a movie at the Logo Theater.
We had been in the theater for about an hour, when a bad group of guys came in. They sat about four to five rows away from us. These guys were loud and pushy. They could not be avoided. Even though they kept up a lot of noise, everything was going just fine, until the movie messed up. One of the dudes, who was sitting far behind us, made it his business to throw a shoe at the blank movie screen. The shoe hit its target. The next throw hit my big brother right in the back of his head.
My brother was going to let such an incident pass, but the dudes who had thrown the shoe began to laugh and point at my brother. Whether those dudes had known it or not, they had some experienced competition on their hands. We began to get the family together—placing them in a safe spot—before we went to meet with those idiots.
After getting our two sisters and baby brother in an area of the theater where they would be safe, my big brother and I headed down the row of seats that led to the enemies. When we had come face to face with our enemies—leaving them no choice but to remain seated—we stepped between their legs and began beating them. They could do nothing but take the ass-whipping that was being issued to them.
After taking care of our business with about four dudes, we excused our way from in front of the enemies. They were so surprised! It never occurred to them that a couple of gentlemen, like my big brother and myself, had the nerves to crack down on them like we had just done. We left those dudes sitting in their seats, as we went to get the family from their hiding spot. We then quickly exited the theater and headed for a laundry mat that was stationed just across the street from the theater.
Once inside the laundry mat, my big brother and I began locking doors. We helped our two sisters get into a dryer, shut the door, and began looking and searching for weapons. There was this old-style soda machine stationed near the washers that was so old, we had no problem breaking into it. We broke open the door of such a machine, and began lining bottles of soda pop on the floor, just in front of the entrance of the laundry mat. We were set to throw the full bottles of soda at the dudes who were now out in front of the laundry mat. Our battle ground was perfect. Everything was set beautifully.
My big brother asked me whether or not I was ready, and I said yes. He then signaled for our baby brother to unlock and open the door, and he did. It was on now. We instantly began throwing bottles of soda at the heads of our enemies.
After hitting several of the enemies upside their heads with full bottles of soda, the gang of boys began to retreat. There was blood at the entrance of the laundry mat, and there was more of the same covering the sidewalk just outside of the laundry mat.
The battle wasn’t quite over yet. As my brother and I began getting our sisters out of the dryers to head out of the back door of the laundry mat, we were approached by another group of the enemy. We had to shut the back door of the laundry mat, and wait to see what happened next. Meanwhile, we put our sisters back into a dryer. We gave them sodas to drink, while we stood in wait of another attack.
The front and back doors of the laundry mat were closed and locked. Nobody had the nuts to break the doors down, but there were quite a few of our enemies waiting for us to come out of the building. There were out there on the sidewalk looking through the window of the building; finally, they began to kick at the front door. The door gave way, and even though the door came wide open, the enemy would not step inside of the building.
Now, it was on us. My two brothers and myself did what we thought was best to do. We grabbed as many sodas as we could and headed out of the entrance of the building. There were about seven guys out on the sidewalk waiting for us. We immediately began fighting with them. The main person those guys were interested in beating was my big brother. My brother hit a couple of those guys upside the heads with bottles of soda; after that, we had to go for what we knew with our naked hands.
Since the whole army of dudes were out to get my older brother, my baby brother and I had to try to make the enemy recognize us. There were planks of wood on the sidewalk near the curve of the street, that my baby brother and I used to help our big brother break free of the enemy. For some unknown reason, these guys would not hurt my younger brother and me. When I had made an attempt to get those idiots off my brother, with the help of a plank, a couple of the guys would grab me by the arms and legs and would carry me out to the middle of the street and just drop me there.
My brother was self-taught in martial arts, and he proved himself to be good at it. He got those dudes to runnin’ away from him. Everything was taken care of. We got our sisters out of the dryers, and we headed down some back streets to make our way home. We made it home safely.
Even though my big brother (Lorenzo) had been the object of the attack that had been organized against us, he sustained no injuries. He was in good shape.
Journal, I was just thinking. My two brothers and myself had a few run-ins with the Gaine brothers. The oldest brother of that gang was Befoe. Then came Timothy, Kenneth, Michael, and Stevie. When it comes right down to it, all of the Gaine brothers were older than my brothers and me; except for Michael and Stevie. Stevie was the baby boy. I believe that Kenneth had been the same age as my older brother, Lorenzo. Personally, there really wasn’t but one person in our family being harassed by the Gaine family, and that was my older brother. All of the older boys in the Gaine family wanted to try my big brother. The only person of the Gaine family who actually gave my brother a good fight was Timothy Gaine. This guy had been in and out of correctional institutions all his life. He had been a damned good fighter. He was the only person I had ever known who could make my big brother run for safety.
I had a run-in with Befoe at one time. We were at a river fishing one day, when Befoe looked at me and said, “Give me some booty, man.” You could not imagine what I felt like when this dude had made such a request. I immediately jumped up from the riverbank and took off running. Befoe was right on my ass, but he could not catch me.
Befoe was a fast runner and he was known for it. I was also known for being a fast runner. I don’t know what high school Befoe was from, but I was from J.N. Irving Elementary/Middle School. I had been the second fastest runner in the whole entire school.
When Befoe approached me about my ass, and chased me to a wide opening at College Park, he quickly made a detour and headed back to the fishing area. At the park, I met with Michael and told him about his brother. Michael just laughed. We went to my crib and smoked several joints. I had decided to tell my big brother about Befoe’s actions, but then, I thought about that. I would let my big brother know if Befoe tried some shit like that again.
Journal, how do you describe a young man as loving and sweet as Lorenzo, my big brother? You can start by saying that Lorenzo was an excellent thinker. Even though he had been in special education during his school years, Lorenzo was really bright and very appropriate in his self-discovered skills. He was very highly capable of doing many things that he was mentally and physically concerned with. He had been the person who authorized all of our plans for charging an enemy. He was an appeaser, because he knew exactly what it would take to bring peace to our environment. Lorenzo was a super masculine figure in the lives of many children. At a young age, he had all the qualities of a grown man.
Lorenzo reminded me of myself. And he mostly reminded me of our dad. He was a very beautiful person at heart. He was highly deserving of admiration, because he was so felicitous in comparison. He was gentle and gracious. He was so spectacular. You’ll have to excuse the adulation in my tone, but Lorenzo had been a very influencing figure in my life. He was affectionate and extremely audacious. He taught himself everything he knew. Lorenzo was a real wonder. He showed an avid desire, with a want to become an awesome and inspiring figure in the lives of those who believed in him. He had an artless charm about himself that no one could take away.
Journal, Lorenzo is dead now. He shot himself in the head about 3 and a half years ago. I will always love my big brother with all of my heart. He was my hero; my inspiration. I think he only had one child—a little girl—but she ended up in a foster home for some reason or another.
I wish I had children!