Man, the Stakes is High

4th grade was a good year.  I was thinning out SOME and becoming quite the ladies man.  They must have known business was going very well. 

My net worth was up to an all-time high, primarily due to my first real job as an Ad-Pak delivery boy.  I was a beast.  Every month they handed out bonuses for the kids who took on additional routes, and if I could get a ride, I was down to do it.  Ad-Pak had one rule: the paper must be delivered on the porch, not the steps, not the driveway, not anywhere but the porch.  This was a really tough rule for me.  I couldn't bear to walk up to each porch and place the Ad-Pak on it, as most houses in my neighborhood had accrued a backlog and probably hated me for continuing to deliver them despite the fact they obviously didn't give a flying f'.

I found my groove.  It got to the point that I could sprint between yards, I would say 25 feet from the actual porches, and with just a slight flick I could fire out a rocket that landed on the porch every time without fail.  It became a game, a competition, as so many small tasks in my life tend to become.  We weren't supposed to listen to music but I couldn't help but have my headphones in blaring bangers.  I was proud that I finished my route in no more than 40 minutes each week when the chump before me (and thus the expectation of time that I had to beat) was closer to one hour and 15 minutes, one hour at the absolute least.

I had other streams of income though. Car washing, cleaning, you name it.  I never did yard work for money though.  That was something that was never worth it for me.  Too much anxiety out there.  Too many bugs, too sweaty, too hot, too thirsty, too hungry, too tired.  Every time I attempted to do yard work I would go inside after 10 minutes and have anywhere from 3-6 assorted Little Debbie snack cakes.  I told you she was my queen.  So no yard work. 

I also started another business on the side selling art.  Sometimes I sold my own art, but often times I worked as an intermediary between parties, collecting interest in the form of candy or small change.  The children (my same age) loved the pictures they ended up with, I was doing something good.

I was counting my money on my bed and just knew this summer would be nuts.

Primarily due to the fact that it was the first summer where I was eligible to attend the overnight basketball camp at UNC.  My mom and her siblings all went to UNC; it was naturally the school I wanted to attend when I was young.  This was going to be a monster camp. 

We stayed in the then-new Granville Towers, right off Franklin Street.  There was something about being "on my own" that I loved.  I know, we had tons of counselors and also had a curfew to be in the building, but it still FELT like I was fending for myself.  That's always been a fun feeling for me.  I got to go to the pool and explore Franklin Street with others my age, it felt surreal.  

My roommate and I shared a bathroom with the room next to us, which was occupied by a couple of guys who's mothers never taught them to put the toilet down.  Maybe it is because my mother laid that expectation down very early, but I was always shocked at how many cats leave a toilet seat up as I was growing up.  Put it down, man, I do not want to touch it...so then we all have our shoes all over them because there isn't a chance in hell I touch that thing with my hands.  Dudes need to keep a little sign above the toilet. 

Their lack of manners wasn't the only thing I recall.  One of the two kids I will never forget - a little punk named Wesley.  Wesley was an  annoying kid who was a couple years older than I was, thus this his third year at camp.  He tried way too hard, bribing children to exchange their souls (er, friendship) for his candy.  This kid's candy game was so nice, I couldn't hate on it.  I was jealous but I had to respect it.  Wesley was a douche though, I saw past the candy.  He would use his new acquaintances to fight battles for him.  He talked a lot but became a shell when he was challenged to man up.  Wesley was "Fakin' Jax":

Although I didn't like Wesley, I was attracted to his room on one of our breaks when he was playing the classic "Crossroads" by Bone-Thugs-n-Harmony:

He may have had his issues, but could Wesley really be alright?

That night my roommate and I went to his room, more out of curiosity than anything.  My roommate had been one of the people who Wesley had swayed (this one was lost to a simple Snickers), so that night we went to Wesley's room.  My time was limited though, that night was the 1996 King of the Ring pay-per-view, and there was a new sheriff in town who went by the "The Ringmaster" that I had to see.

We were flipping through each other's CD cases, talking back and forth about which tracks we liked when we saw we had the same album.  We had a connecting moment on ATLiens.  I came to find out that Wesley had an older brother in high school and that Wesley essentially had stolen his brother's music for the week.  As I was flipping through, I recognized most of the artists within his binder, until we got to an album with kids on the front and a name that I wasn't sure was in Spanish or English - was this even hip-hop?  "Sort of."

I asked Wesley if we could listen to this CD next but he rejected me.  I vividly recall a look like, "and don't you ever ask me again."  He was embarrassed, and him feeling that embarrassment had me wanting more.  So I asked if I could borrow the CD for a bit and forgo the numerous cones of soft-serve yogurt in the cafeteria for dinner.  He agreed but I knew I would owe him something. 

I sat down at the desk, popped the headphones in, and opened the CD case of De La Soul's Stakes is High.  I had to be efficient; I couldn't waste time on any one song.

Skip the intro. Gave "Supa Emcees" half a minute before I was on to the next (over time, grew to adore this track)....the third song, the day my Com-cherry was popped, "The Bizness":

Dave started the track off real nice.  Dude is real smooth.  This was the first track I really, really LISTENED to Common, and thank the lawd I did.  He fits a gang of metaphors, similes, puns, and references into a short period of time, yet it didn't feel forced at all to me.  And then Pos comes through again leaving you thinking, "OK, this cat would whoop my ass in Chess."

I like all 12 of the next tracks, each have their own mind state, so I wouldn't ignore them; if you do you will regret it.  After these 12 comes another first for me with another legend I would become very familiar with in the coming years... "Big Brother Beat" feat. Mos Def:

I never mind a back-and-forth track such as this.  Sure, there is something incredibly special about a lyricist able to keep you on the edge of your set for bars upon bars.  If you only listened to Mos' first run through you would understandably walk away feeling like you were missing something, "Just two lines?"  He teases again about a minute through, but finally takes off the gloves come 1:45 and goes to verbal war.

Wesley had, in a way, introduced me to two of the finest lyricists.  Does one thank someone for this?

"Down Syndrome" wasn't one of my favorites, neither was "Pony Ride", but I was still going to buy the album.  I had a few minutes before King of the Ring started, and just a couple tracks left - I had checked out a bit. 

"Stakes is High" (Prod. by J Dilla)

The voice in my head went nuts.. Wait, what was that?  WHAT THE F*#& WAS THAT?  No.. No way.. Stop playing with me.  This must be a dream.  Is that James Brown in the background? What was this sound and why had it taken this long to find it.  I went to look in the book, got a quick glace before noticing I had two minutes to get down to the commons area to watch history unfold.  That night a legend emerged, changed his name, and proceeded to become one of the all-time greats in the game.

But all I could think about was...

WHO IS YANCEY?