OBSERVATIONS By Eddie Griffin

Part 1 -Young Mr. Droopy Drawers


I stopped by the neighborhood grocery store where the riff-raffs hang out. Standing in the doorway was a hood rat, notoriously known for his low sagging pants. No one in Fort Worth sagged more than Young Mr. Droopy Drawers.

But this morning he was clean, new pants and new hooded coat covering his lowers, just in time for the cooler fall temperatures. There were also older men hanging around the store, drinking coffee, and shooting the bull.

“Good morning,” I announced as I came in.

The ones just milling around seemed to recognize the goodness of the morning. They answered, "Good morning". But the kid never said a word.

OMG! I noticed. He had taken a bath. Indeed, it was a good morning, not having to smell his body odor or look at the backside of his underwear.

Since he was oblivious to my entrance, I made certain to speak again on my way out.

“Excuse me,” I said, louder than before. “I thought I said good morning to everybody when I came in.”

The old men chimed in again, “Good morning.” And, the kid smiled and returned my greeting.

“You look nice this morning,” I told him. “You’re going somewhere in life. You really look nice. You're not sagging today.”

There was a chuckle or two from the elders, but the young man thanked me. However, he retorted, “I don’t sag that much.”

I knew otherwise, but said nothing and made my exit.

REFLECTIONS: I had seen this kid grow up on the streets, since his teens. If other ‘hood rats sagged their pants, he sagged even more, down to his thighs.

To these kids, I'm nothing but the old, invisible, gray head, outside the limelight, and not worth much attention. And likewise, whenever I see them on the streets or standing outside the store, I treated them as if I were blind and deaf.

This morning, however, when seeing him for the first time, I recognized his being and respected his presence. The feeling, I could tell, was mutual.

From now on, I'll probably think of this kid as being one of my little adopted 'hood rats. Not out of disrespect to 'hood rats and riff-raffs, this is just what I call "my kids" that grow up in "my neighbor-hood".