The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates

The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates ⌧ Free PDF Reading The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates ը Kindle Ebook Author Wes Moore ᠄ Chapter OneIs Daddy Coming with Us 1982Nikki and I would play this game I would sit on the living room chair while Nikki deeply inhaled and then blew directly in my face, eliciting hysterical laughs on both sides This was our ritual It always ended with me jabbing playfully at her face Shed run away and bait me to give chase Most times before today I never came close to catching her But today, I caught her and realized, like a dog chasing a car, I had no idea what to do So, in the spirit of three year old boys everywhere whove run out of better ideas, I decided to punch her Of course my mother walked into the room right as I swung and connected.The yell startled me, but her eyes are what I remember.Get up to your damn room came my mothers command from the doorway I told you, dont you ever put your hands on a woman I looked up, confused, as she quickly closed the distance between us.My mother had what we called Thomas hands, a tag derived from her maiden name hands that hit so hard you had to be hit only once to know you never wanted to be hit again The nickname began generations ago, but each generation took on the mantle of justifying it Those hands were now reaching for me Her eyes told me it was time to get moving.I darted up the stairs, still unsure about what Id done so terribly wrong I headed to the bedroom I shared with my baby sister, Shani Our room was tiny, barely big enough for my small bed and her crib There was no place to hide I was running in circles, frantic to find a way to conceal myself And still trying to comprehend why I was in so much trouble I couldnt even figure out the meaning of half the words my mother was using.In a panic, I kicked the door shut behind me just as her voice reached the second floor And dont let me hear you slam that Boom I stared for a moment at the closed door, knowing it would soon be flying open again I sat in the middle of the room, next to my sisters empty crib, awaiting my fate.Then, deliverance.Joy, you cant get on him like that My fathers baritone voice drifted up through the thin floor Hes only three He doesnt even understand what he did wrong Do you really think he knows what a woman beater is My father was in the living room, ten feet from where the incident began He was a very slender six foot two with a bushy mustache and a neatly shaped afro It wasnt his style to yell When he heard my mothers outburst, he rose from his chair, his eyes widening in confusion My mother slowly reeled herself in But she wasnt completely mollified.Wes, he needs to learn what is acceptable and what is not My father agreed, but with a gentle laugh, reminded her that cursing at a young boy wasnt the most effective way of making a point I was saved, for the moment.My first name, Westley, is my fathers I have two middle names, a compromise between my parents My father loved the sound and meaning of Watende, a Shona word that means revenge will not be sought, a concept that aligned with his gentle spirit My mother objected Watende sounded too big, too complicated for such a tiny baby It wasnt until later in life that she understood why it was so important to my father that Watende be a part of me Instead, she lobbied for Omari, which means the highest Im not sure what was easier or less lofty about that name, but I was well into elementary school before I became comfortable spelling either.My parents debate continued downstairs, but their words faded I went to the rooms only window and looked out on the world My older sister, Nikki, and I loved to look through the window as families arrived at the swap market across the street Our home was on a busy street that sat right on the border of Maryland and Washington, D.C., stuck confusingly between two different municipal jurisdictions, a fact that would become very significant in the near future I pulled back the thin diaphanous curtain that covered the windows and spotted my friend Ayana outside with her mother She was half Iranian and half Italian, with long, dark hair and warm eyes that always fascinated me They were light green, unlike the eyes of anyone else I knew, and they twinkled as if they held stars I wanted to tap on the window to say hello as she walked past our house to the tenement building next door But I was afraid of making trouble for myself, so I just smiled.On the dresser by the window sat a framed picture of me with Nikki I sat on her lap with my arm wrapped around her neck, a goofy smile on my face Nikki is seven years older, so in the picture she was nine and I was barely two Colorful beads capped the braided tips of her hair, a style she shared with my mother, and large, black framed eyeglasses covered half of her face.Nikkis real name was Joy, like my moms, but everyone called her Nikki My mother was obsessed with the poet Nikki Giovanni, in love with her unabashed feminine strength and her reconciliation of love and revolution I spent nearly every waking moment around Nikki, and I loved her dearly But sibling relationships are often fraught with petty tortures I hadnt wanted to hurt her But I had.At the time, I couldnt understand my mothers anger I mean this wasnt really a woman I was punching This was Nikki She could take it Years would pass before I understood how that blow connected to my moms past.My mother came to the United States at the age of three She was born in Lowe River in the tiny parish of Trelawny, Jamaica, hours away from the tourist traps that line the coast Its swaths of deep brush and arable land made it great for farming but less appealing for honeymoons and hedonism Lowe River was quiet, and remote, and it was home for my mother, her brothers, and my grandparents My maternal great grandfather Mas Fred, as he was known, would plant a coconut tree at his home in Mount Horeb, a neighboring area, for each of his kids and grandkids when they were born My mom always bragged that hers was the tallest and strongest of the bunch The land that Mas Fred and his wife, Miss Ros, tended had been cared for by our ancestors for generations And it was home for my mom until her parents earned enough money to bring the family to the States to fulfill my grandfathers dream of a theology degree from an American university.When my mom first landed in the Bronx, she was just a small child, but she was a survivor and learned quickly She studied the other kids at school like an anthropologist, trying desperately to fit in She started with the way she spoke She diligently listened to the radio from the time she was old enough to turn it on and mimicked what she heard Shed always pull back enough in her interactions with her classmates to give herself room to quietly observe them, so that when she got home she could practice imitating their accents, their idiosyncrasies, their style Words like irie became cool Constable became policeman Easy nuh became chill out The melodic, swooping movement of her Jamaican patois was quickly replaced by the stable cadences of American English She jumped into the melting pot with both feet.Joy Thomas entered American University in Washington, D.C., in 1968, a year when she and her adopted homeland were both experiencing volatile changeVietnam, a series of assassinations, campus unrest, rioting that tore through the nations cities, and an American president who no longer wanted the job Joy herself was caught between loving the country that offered her and her family new opportunities and being frustrated with that country because it still made her feel like a second class citizen.At college, Joy quickly fell in with the OAASAU, the very long acronym for a very young group, the Organization of African and African American Students at the American University The OAASAU was rallying AUs black students into engagement with the national, international, and campus issues roiling around them.The battling organization elevated her consciousness beyond her assimilationist dreams and sparked a passion for justice and the good fight.A charismatic AU senior named Bill was the treasurer of OAASAU, and two months after they met early in the exciting whirlwind of her freshman year, Joy was engaged to marry him Despite the quick engagement, they waited two years to get married, by which time Joy was a junior and Bill a recent graduate looking for work Marriage brought the sobering realities of life into focus The truth was, they were both still trying to find their feet as adults and feeling a little in over their heads as a married couple.As the love haze wore off, Joy began to see that the same qualities that had made Bill so attractive as a college romancehis free and rebellious spirit, his nearly paralyzing contempt for the Manmade him a completely unreliable husband And she discovered that what she had foolishly thought of as his typical low level recreational drug use was really something much worse In a time of drug experimentation and excess, Bill was starting to look like a casualty.As the years passed, Joy kept hoping that Bills alcohol and drug use would fade She was caught in a familiar trap for young women and girlsthe fantasy that she alone could change her man So she doubled down on the relationship They had a child together She hoped that would motivate Bill to make some changes But his addiction just got worse, and the physical, mental, and emotional abuse he unleashed became intense.One night things came to a head Bill came home and started to badger Joy about washing the dishes His yelling threatened to wake up one year old Nikki, and Joy tried to shush him He kept yelling He moved in on her The two of them stood face to face, him yelling, her pleading with him in hushed tones to lower his voice.He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down She sprawled on the floor in her white T shirt and blue AU sweatpants, stunned but not completely surprised by his explosive reaction He wasnt done He grabbed her by her T shirt and hair, and started to drag her toward the kitchen He hit her in the chest and stomach, trying to get her to move her arms, which were now defensively covering her head Finally, she snapped She screamed at him without fear of waking Nikki as he dragged her across the parquet floor She kicked and scratched at his hands.Bill was too strong, too determined, too high Her head slammed against the doorframe as he finally dragged her body onto the kitchens linoleum floor He released her hair and her now ripped T shirt and once again ordered her to wash the dishes He stood over her with a contemptuous scowl on his face It couldve been that look Or it couldve been the escalating abuse and the accumulated frustration at the chaotic life he was creating for her and her daughter But something gave Joy the strength to pull herself up from the floor On top of the counter was a wooden block that held all of the large, sharp knives in the kitchen She pulled the biggest knife from its sheath and pointed the blade at his throat Her voice was collected as she made her promise If you try that shit again, I will kill you.Bill seemed to suddenly regain his sobriety He backed out of the kitchen slowly, not taking his eyes from his wifes tear drenched face Her unrelenting stare They didnt speak for the rest of the night One month later, Joy and Nikki were packed up Together, they left Bill for good.My mom vowed to never let another man put his hands on her She wouldnt tolerate it in others either.My parents finished their conversation, and it was obvious that one of them was heading up to speak to me I turned from the window and stood in the middle of the room, mentally running through my nonexistent options for escape.Soon I could tell by the sound of the steps it was my father His walk was slower, heavier, deliberate My mother tended to move up the stairs in a sprint He lightly knocked on the door and slowly turned the knob The door opened slightly, and he peeked in His easy half smile, almost a look of innocent curiosity, assured me that, at least for now, the beating would wait.Hey, Main Man, do you mind if I come in Im told that he had many terms of endearment for me, but Main Man is the one I remember I didnt even look up but nodded slowly He had to duck to clear the low doorway He picked me up and, as he sat on the bed, placed me on his lap As I sat there, all of my anxiety released I could not have felt safer, secure He began to explain what I did wrong and why my mother was so angry Main Man, you just cant hit people, and particularly women You must defend them, not fight them Do you understand I nodded, then asked, Is Mommy mad at me No, Mommy loves you, like I love you, she just wants you to do the right thing.My father and I sat talking for another five minutes before he led me downstairs to apologize to my sister, and my mother With each tiny step I took with him, my whole hand wrapped tighter around his middle finger I tried to copy his walk, his expressions I was his main man He was my protector.That is one of only two memories I have of my father.The other was when I watched him die.My dad was his parents only son Tall but not physically imposing, he dreamed of being on televisionhaving a voice that made an impact Armed with an insatiable desire to succeedand aided by his natural gifts, which included a deeply resonant voicehe made his dream come true soon after finishing up at Bard College in 1971.As a young reporter, he went to many corners of the country, following a story or, in many cases, following a job After stints in North Carolina, New York, Florida, Virginia, California, and a handful of other states, he returned home to southern Maryland and started work at a job that would change his life He finally had the chance to host his own public affairs show And hed hired a new writing assistant Her name was Joy.Startling and revelatory a rocketing real life narrative.Balti Sun A moving book a call to arms Chicago TribuneThis intriguing narrative is enlightening, encouraging, and empowering Read these words, absorb their meanings, and create your own plan to act and leave a legacy.Tavis Smiley, from the Afterword A compassionate memoira story that explores how some survive and others sink in urban battlegrounds PeopleMoore vividly and powerfully describes not just the culture of the streets but how it feels to be a boy growing up in a world where violence makes you a man O The Oprah Magazine Inspiring a story for our times.Alex Kotlowitz, author of There Are No Children Here The Other Wes Moore One Name, Two Fates Wes The on FREE shipping qualifying offers kids named were born blocks apart within a year of each other by is Rhodes Scholar and combat veteran Afghanistan As White House Fellow, he worked as special assistant to Secretary Condoleezza Rice at the State Department He was featured speaker Democratic National Convention, one Ebony magazine s Top Leaders Wes Wikipedia Westley Watende Omari October , an American author, social entrepreneur, television producer, political analyst, decorated US Army officer author Anderson IMDb Anderson, Writer Fantastic Mr Fox Wesley Wales in Houston, Texas His mother, Ann Burroughs archaeologist turned real estate agent, his father, Melver Leonard Spearfish Lake Tales Boyd Spearfish site for online mainstream novels Boyd There are several completed novels, new serial Welker Carter May former football wide receiver who currently coach Houston Texans Football League NFL Learn Node best way learn Nodejs, Express Summer Sale Price Join others learning with Runs out All movies, ranked from worst From Rush latest, Isle Dogs, here all Backflow Testing, Complete Repair, Parts Service Magic Valley Request Online, Pay Invoices Online Visa, MasterCard, Discover Co Curates New Museum Exhibit Pitchfork set launch art exhibit Austria Kunsthistorisches Vienna November It called Spitzmaus Mummy Coffin Treasures Museum, it will showcase curated work culled museum extensive catalogWes Robin Hood CEO Hood, bestselling entrepreneur previously served Hood Veterans Advisory Board, which brought together leaders military, non profits BridgeEdu College Success Balti Student Retention Our latest public private partnership BridgeEdU company that started help students their first APB Speakers Book speak your next event Contact Speakers bio, videos, topics, inquire about speaking fees availability Speaker TED life transformed these words mother mouth I m sending you military school book, Moore, now vocal advocate America youth well fellow veterans returning iamwesmoore Twitter Tweets RobinHoodNYC, Founder BridgeEduteam, Youth advocate, veteran, Best selling theotherwesmoore thework, Husband Father tapped York based foundation Apr educator briefly considered run mayor last year, has been foundation, fights poverty funding schools, food pantries, job training centers programs national became instant Times Wall Street Journal bestseller story conveys importance individual decisions alongside community support Home Facebook likes talking this BridgeEdu, HuffPost War Poverty Has Become TIME We need be abundantly clear people living victims, not perpetrators it, writes PenguinRandomhouse chilling truth could have mine tragedy my Student Founder success goal our founder, believes providing higher education career opportunities promise Military Wiki FANDOM powered Wikia The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates


    • 3.1
    • 240
    • Format Kindle
    • 0385528205
    • Wes Moore
    • Anglais
    • 12 November 2016
    • 272 pages