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Jesus And The Pine Cones 3.18.99
In local news, an eleven-year-old was held up at gunpoint and robbed of $1.35 a few blocks from here at Rocheblave and Lafitte. Jacque Lewis, who lives at Rocheblave and Orleans, a block away from the crime scene, was heard to exclaim, "I don't know jack."
In seemingly unrelated news, volunteers prepare pignolati, bits of fried dough held together with caramelized sugar that represent the pine cones Jesus played with as a child.
Kojack and 2-year old son, Peanut, were in the block yesterday. Peanut runs up the steps, plops himself down next to me and responds to my greeting with--"No."
In the bright sun across the street, newly released from jail, G's mom, Annie, holds Kojack's baby girl, Jeanine. Jeanine cries.
"I know this is our first meeting so let me just say what a pleasure it is to meet you."
"No."
"So much negativity, I think we should accentuate the positive."
"No."
"I can make you, on account of I am a grown up with superior brain power."
"No."
"Just watch me."
"No."
Kojack in his 626 with Texas plates practices the art of the deal. Jeanine cries. Peanut is about to be tricked.
Across the street, Hunter fakes left, reverse dribbles behind the back right, stutter steps, and drives left, stops short of the basket and sinks a ten foot jump shot.
On the hitman's steps, a kid from J 's posse rolls a joint using regular Zig Zags. Just as sure as blunt rolling became commercialized with honey-dipped leaf-like wrappers sold in stay fresh pouches, kids on the street revert to the more common cigarette papers.
"I am nothing, but you are the great Peanut."
"No."
Kojack instructs his associate, "Get the fuck away man, this got nothing to do with you. Go on, get your sorry ass up the sidewalk."
Annie shifts Jeanine to her right arm, Jeanine cries. Kojack yells across, telling Annie to bring the baby over. Kojack admonishes Annie for holding Jeanine face up in the bright sun. "Little babies don't like that, why you do that?, give her to me." Jeanine stops crying. Kojack, standing below the elevated porch, stands Jeanine up on the porch so that she is eye level with him. He coos and cuddles with her, and she drools on his head.
Shelton drives left, defended closely by Hunter. Shelton trips, falling, throws up a desperate fade away, scores.
J takes a small hit, passes it on. The exhaled smoke is a cloud obscuring the faces of boys with caps turned sideways and backwards on their heads. Boys who advertise Nike, and FuBu, and Tommy Hilfiger. Boys who know little or nothing about the Yankees, or the Angels.
Hallie approaches and I tell her again why I don't like her to use the phone. "About an hour after you use the phone yesterday I get a call from a man wanting to know what I want and who I am. Calling me and asking that. And I have to start sounding rude, talking like--I am the number you called, this is Dumaine, blah, blah, blah, so even if you didn't leave this number on a beeper, everybody's got Caller ID these days, it's a nightmare, I hate
telephones."
"Man shouldn't call and ask who you are," Hallie agrees.
I look right and Kojack is gone, back in his car, which he moves up the block so his associate will stay out of his business. Jeanine is nowhere to be seen, but is probably inside Mama D's.
Six-year old Erica is approaching, home from Phillis Wheatly Elementary.
"I will never amount to spit."
"No."
Erica seems surprised. "You know Peanut, Mr. Jim?"
"Well, I've been knowing who he is, but this is the first time we have talked."
Erica hugs Peanut, says to him, "I love you."
Kojack appears out of nowhere and says, "Tell Erica you love her, Peanut."
Peanut says, "Ruv U Eca."
G comes over and asks to borrow the football. A detailed Ford Explorer pulls up to the curb and Annie pokes her head in, talks to an old boyfriend in dress clothes. G and I overhear about her failing of a drug test. The man agrees with her at some point--"Yes, nobody's perfect."
Looking across to the basketball court, I recognize none of the young adult players in a heated three on three. Shelton comes across with a tennis ball, gives it to Peanut. We play catch. Peanut can't catch but has a hell of an arm.
The sun's too hot across the street, more people are crossing over.
Hallie is on the payphone at the corner.
I yell to a child I barely know and tell him to keep a toddler I've never seen before from walking out into the street.
Erica asks to borrow a jump rope.
Jesus plays with his pine cones.