What is hood?
My stepson visited us last year when we lived in Pine Bluff, Ark. — known to locals as 'Crime Bluff.' The comments he made to his dad seemed to express an eagerness to see 'the hood.'
So my husband asked his 'Son, what do you think hood means?'
Fast forward about a year, we've moved to Missouri — caramel candies in vanilla sea — and according to my stepson, we now live in a better neighborhood.
I'll admit, there are less grown people at home at noon, which is a relief. There are less gunshots, less break-ins, less domestic calls. More people walking, smiling, waving, talking. A lot less color.
But, my pregnant neighbor and her live-in boyfriend are drug users and dealers. So is the couple sown the street and about ten other people on our block.
Last week my husband was hanging out and a bitch stole his phone.
I mean she straight jacked him for his Blackberry.
She ran off, used the phone for two days, then sold it.
The guy she sold it too tried to sell it back to us.
The host of the gathering suggested the best way to resolve the problem was to let her 'beat that bitch's ass' as she had been waiting too long to do so.
So now I'm back to my husband's question to his son.
'What is hood.'
Because the way I look at it, it's a state of mind.
It's the mind set that tells you to do certain things certain ways that you should know better about.
It's in all of us, but only a minority of us choose to live in the state indefinitely.
I have to admit to harboring many of my own hood tendencies.
But I learned from growing up in a family full of non hood regulators you shouldn't let your mouth write checks that your ass can't cash.