Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [123]
As my career started moving forward, my children were my greatest support. They were excited about the book, they helped me write and mail the ministry newsletter, and they took a front-row seat every Sunday morning. I wasn’t able to keep Damon home very long after the Norfolk incident. He said he wanted to be with his wife, who was still stationed in Virginia. He promised that he was finished with the drug life. He lied.
Over the course of several months, Damon was arrested in every state along the eastern seaboard. Each time he was arrested, he would call me, profess his innocence, and beg me to pay his bail and get him an attorney. On the first two occasions, I did exactly as he asked. I didn’t help him because I believed he was innocent. I knew he was guilty. I did it because I felt so guilty. Every time he called with some new trouble, a dagger would stab my heart. Not only had I failed as a mother and caused my son to ruin his life, people were going to talk about me: “How can she be out there saving the world and her son is in jail?” When you hold yourself out in the public eye, people sometimes forget that you are still a human being. They forget that you have feelings, and they forget that you have a history. They act as if you popped out of a pumpkin patch one day, fully equipped to do whatever it is that you are doing. I knew better.
When Damon was arrested in Philadelphia, I called some of my law school buddies. They were willing to help, but I didn’t have the money to pay them. When he was arrested in New York, I got the brilliant idea to call his father, an ex-corrections officer, to see if he could pull some strings.
“Gary, have you heard from Damon yet?”
“His friend called here and said that he needed eight hundred dollars to pay his bail.”
“I know. Would you be willing to put up half if I put up the other half?” I asked him.
“I have fifty dollars. You can have that if you want it.” This from a man who lives in a mansion, receives a state pension, works as a locksmith, and sells used cars.
“You know, Gary, this is the first time in his life that your son has ever asked you to help him do anything. I think this may be a good time for you and him to really build a relationship. He needs manhood training. He needs something that I cannot give him.”
“The only thing wrong with Damon is the environment he grew up in. What did you think was going to happen to him? Look where he grew up! Look at the things he grew up around. He is only doing what he saw done in his environment.”
I was livid. This is a man who passed through twice a year to give his son twenty dollars and occasionally took him to eat lobster.
“I did the best I could, Gary, but you know what? I don’t have to defend myself to you, because you are his father. Right now he needs a father.”
“You say he needs manhood training. What is that? I never got that. How am I supposed to give it to him if I don’t even know what it is? What he needs is a good butt whipping, but it’s kinda late for that now.”
“What he needs is a man to talk to. He needs a man to tell him the things it takes to be a man. I sure don’t know what that is, because I’m not a man. He is reaching out for you, so I guess whatever you know can help him.”
“I don’t see why I should be forced to have a relationship with my son. Do you want the fifty dollars or not?”
“Please forgive me. You are absolutely right, Gary. Forgive me for calling you. I have no right to call you about anything pertaining to Damon, because you have demonstrated your commitment to him all of his life. And you know what, Gary? You don’t ever have to worry about me picking up a telephone to call you again. As long as