…believe

…in yourself, even when no one else does…

I didn’t, believe in me, why should I, no one else did and they told me so, until…

But wait I want to show you something, this…

…these are gloves I bought in a hardware store in Buffalo, NY in 1977. I bought them because they had the finger tips already cut out and I needed them that way so…

…I could type term papers and projects in college. This photo was for an experimental photography project in film school.

I needed the gloves because we lived in a 2nd story flat, only bb was working at the time so during the winter we couldn’t afford to turn up the heat much. You see how I’m dressed I have on THREE layers of tops, gloves, and what you can’t see is the blanket I had over my legs under the dining room table.

Our flat was heated by gas and back then, as tenants, we had to read our own gas meter in the basement of the double house. You would mark down the numbers on the gas thing, fill the numbers in on a card and send it to the gas company and would be charged on the difference between the last reading and the present reading.

We lived at the time in Buffalo, NY, and in the winter it snowed a bunch, and got pretty cold, not Frostbite Falls cold, but cold enough, and it was an old flat with old windows and lots of drafts and things.

So what I would do is all spring, summer and fall I would add 30 numbers to each form I sent to the gas company, during those seasons we didn’t use the heat hardly at all so the bill would always be low but I would add to it as sort of a bank, and when winter came, when January & February came, usually the coldest months, we could turn the heat up some, normally 60 or so during the day, and not take a huge hit on the bill because I never marked down the true gas number until those months and the false numbers I sent in built a buffer that helped money wise.

Not sure you can even do that anymore, that was 43 years ago…no computers to catch ya.

But we were flat out broke.

At Christmas & Birthdays I drew stick figure cards with words in the bubble above the head of the stick figure…true story.

For Christmas presents and to buy books, I sold my blood. Every 10 days or so, maybe every 2 weeks, forgot what the schedule was, bartended some, shot pool some, private detected some, bb worked at a TV station in town and was the main/only real breadwinner.

Every Friday my Grandmother would slip me a $10-bill and bb and I would use that to go to a Happy Hour that night at a bar where we knew a bunch of people (importantly the owner & bartender) have a couple of beers, some of the free food.

I was 25 years old.

Broke.

Married.

And a future I know bb’s parents worried about.

Here’s why…

Yeah dig that…Knock Knock in-laws…

…it gets worse.

In high school I majored in “gang” and “flunking.” I was put into what was called a “work-study” class meaning I went to school for 3 classes in the morning (for me it was English 9, 10 & 11) and then around 11:30am I would leave school to go to my “work” class where I got credit for painting cars, cutting grass, and working selling records in the basement of Sears & Roebucks.

I never took or was offered to take the SAT because as my guidance counselor kiddingly said to my parents, “Not sure he can even spell S A T.” I could spell though:

B A T which I took to the mirrors on his car in the school parking lot and ended up with “permeant detention.”

I was told by the Assistant Principle at the school that “If I was good…” he could “…pull some strings and get you (me) on the 3rd shift line at the Chevy-Tonawanda plant.”

I declined the factory career.

And being good.

Which I wasn’t until I met some young lady, who actually asked me out, and who was way above my league in most areas, certainly gang and baseball bat areas.

Somehow…

…this beautiful young lady believed in…

…this guy, and also unbelievably…

…this dude too.

Yeah I know (and that’s why I don’t allow comments on this page) certainly out punted blah, blah, blah.

It was bb who suggested I try to get into college, it was bb who worked so that when the University amazingly took me (but only if I proved myself for a semester or 2 in their night school division) and it was bb who on the snowy night, my first night of University night school where my first class was….English 101…it was bb who said…

“…No problem I believe in you.”

I stopped on the way to English 101 class and bought 3 pretzel rods at the 7-Eleven at the corner, it was dinner that night (and what became damn near a study habit) and drove up to campus and sat in the car, the snow was blowing, miserable night, and I swear to God turned the car back on to go back home telling myself “what the hell are you doing, you have no shot, and it’s fu*king English for Christs Sake.”

But what would I tell bb.

what would I tell the FIRST ADULT WHO EVER TOLD ME FACE TO FACE THEY BELIEVED IN ME.

And I reached up and turned the car off, and went inside.

To fu*king English 101

The University Student

“Um, you wrote about what, again, exactly, hon…”

“She said (the grad instructor who I thought was some sort of Professor) to write 1,000 words about something memorable in your life.”

bb was just looking at me, she knew intrinsically that would be a BIG range of stuff to write about.

“I just wrote about Prostitution in Hotels.”

“….” that’s the symbol for bb just looking at me.

“It was funny babe.”

“Did you actually hand it in.”

“Uh Huh.”

“Hoh-boy.” I’m sure she was thinking I hope he hasn’t forgot how to make a Martini.

Fast Forward to English 101 one week after my paper was submitted.

The Professor/grad student “So class that was for the most part pretty underwhelming, come up here, get your papers and do it over again, do it with some feeling if in fact you have that.”

Now, I’m in a class where at 25 I’m the old guy and the one person who doesn’t smell of Budweiser.

I also sat in the wayback of the room.

“Is this your paper…” The Prof/Grad student possibly younger than me was looking at me holding my paper “…it was certainly interesting, and you know, hilarious, you’re good to go, don’t worry about re-doing the exercise. What’s your name again.”

“Don um Barone.”

“Good to know…”

And when I got into my car I finally unfolded the paper and saw this written on it:

A+ “a little weird in the grammar area and spelling yikes…but one of the funniest things I’ve ever read.” Peggy Henderson

The first A+ in my life and it was only my 1st week in The University.

That week changed my life, funny I owe it to two women, one a young grad school lady stuck teaching an English 101 class (I’ve tried to find her to thank her but have not had any luck) and two, and most important…bb.

If you’ve lasted this long, here’s the nut-graph: I never believed in myself until bb and the A+ believed in me.

And then I believed in myself with a vengeance especially during the bad times, during the really bad times, during the how-can-it-possibly-get-worse-bad-times, and as importantly during the good times as well.

The point of the story is, believe in yourself from the start, even if those around you don’t believe in you because in the end…

…in the end…

…it is on you, only you.

Here’s proof, real world no bullshit…no one thought I was anything or would be anything in high school which lead me to believe that as well.

F**K THEM.

I can spell S A T now, I can also spell Magna Cum Laude, I can also spell full-ride University Scholarship my final year which BTW was a 4.0.

And then there’s this, in our 2nd floor flat with not much heat we had two Cockatiels, we humorously called them “Oscar,” and “Emmy,” a dream of mine to win both those awards.

I never got a chance to work in the movie business, but I did get to work in the Television business…

…and I did believe in myself…

Damn straight I did.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you who you are or what you can or can’t be.

You are you and that’s all you need to be…and it helps to have a little help along the way…thank you bb much undying love…

…and to you Peggy Henderson wherever you may be.

And to you…Simply…believe.

db