The Secret to Success

After my freshmen year I could truly say that college was everything that I heard it would be and even more of what I dreamt it would be. In fact, my grades were an indicator of just how much fun I had my freshmen year. I traveled more than I had ever traveled in my life and most of my travels were outside of the Midwest. I went as far as I could go and made it back in time for my Monday classes. We went to Nashville, Louisville, Knoxville, Atlanta, Birmingham, Memphis and Miami. I took full advantage of the campus life. I went to every basketball game, played in every spades tournament, played in every intramural sporting event available, never said no to a bowling tournament and missed work as many days on the job as I could without losing my work study job. But nothing made my freshmen experience as memorable as the time I spent with De. We did not have her mother to contend with, I could see her everyday and we even had class together. Our love for each other grew on campus in a way I don’t think it could have grown in Detroit. For instance, at least the first two quarters, we would go to church together and some co-ed worship services together and in between classes we would walk through the campus and have worship together. One thing we did not have to worry about was De getting pregnant and having to leave college and go home. All the strict school rules helped us to take our relationship slow and focus on getting to know each other. Huntsville wasn’t a big city like Detroit so we spent the majority of our time walking, talking, studying, and getting to know each other on a deeper level.

“I don’t want to grow up, ‘cause if I did, I wouldn’t be a Toys R’ Us Kid.”

That year I got married, and you couldn’t tell me anything. I used to joke with my boys and say, “Take out your cameras and get a snapshot of this, because this, my friend, is what a grown ass man looks like.” But it did not take long for reality to set in and bust the air out of my bubble. Once the honeymoon stage ended, it was back to real life. I soon discovered, dreaming is one thing, but at some point I had to get up, get out and get something. Somehow, I had been led astray. I thought all I had to do was dream about how I wanted my marriage and life to be like and from time-to-time share the dream with my wife over a candlelit dinner. But I forgot I married a Detroit sister, and from my experience, they were cut from a different cloth. It did not take long before my wife started in on me. “You call yourself a man, what kind of man plays video games all day? When are you going to fill out a job application and get a real job?” she bellowed. She thought as soon as we got married I was going to make a swift transition from a boy to a man. But somehow I came back to school still immature. Instead of looking for a job I was over my boy’s house playing Techmo Bowl. If I wasn’t playing video games, I was on campus in a planning session for Bell Tower. What I wasn’t doing was handling my responsibilities as a new husband. Until one evening or should I say one early morning, I came home about 2 a.m. from the Bell Tower. The Bell generally ended right at curfew, 10:30, but sometimes we would go to one of the dorms to do a follow up session. This particular night we got into a deep discussion with the twins, Paul and Patrick and afterwards we stopped by the Waffle House. When I walked in the house and eventually in the bedroom, De looked at me and started crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I sat next to her on the bed. I thought she was having some challenges in the nursing program and that she was probably just a little frustrated because school was so demanding. “It’s you.” she said with an attitude.

“Me, what did I do?” I asked, confused. I am out here trying to do my thing for the ministry.”

“That’s the problem, the ministry! Did you marry the ministry or me?”

“I married you,” I responded quickly.

“Act like it then! You spend all your time on campus or with your boys while I sit here waiting for you to come home. And what about a job? We can’t live off that little money you made over the summer selling magazines. You need to go get a real job!”