It’s no secret that I LOVE fried chicken.
And I’ll never forget the day… I discovered that through an accidental encounter.
I was twelve. It was before a football game with the Oak Cliff Jets and I was hanging out with a kid on my team named Don Hobgood.
Don said, “Hey Kyle, my Mom said you can come over for lunch. Let’s go.”
Free lunch… Don’s house? I was IN. Don was a big kid who looked like he’d NEVER missed a meal. Me… on the other hand… not so much. I looked more like a cheerleader.
We walked into Don’s house and his Momma yelled at us, “Go watch your hands good, we’re having fried chicken.”
I’d HAD fried chicken, yes. But not THIS KIND.
With just one bite… MY HEAD EXPLODED! It was crispy, it was juicy, it was… DANG! I’d never FELT a taste in my body before… but this taste felt like it oozed into my veins. The taste FILLED me with a feeling of joy.
Don’s Mom saw it on my face. She grinned REAL big and asked, “Good?”
“U-huh!” I scream-mumbled with a full mouth.
My love-affair with chicken was ON! And my wife, Shelly, learned of it while we were dating…
When HER Mom – before we got married – invited me over to dinner… and there it was… freaky-good, fried chicken.
Unknowingly, at the time, the fried chicken feast that she watched that day made a major impact on Shelly’s Mom.
How do I know that?
On my 40th Birthday, Shelly asked many in our family to write up a story (about me) for me to read. Shelly’s Mom had this to say in her writings. Bobby (Shelly’s dad) and I were SHOCKED to see you eating that fried chicken like you’d NEVER seen it before. I never knew someone could eat SO MUCH in one sitting.”
So, yeah. I LOVE fried chicken.
AND…
It’s no secret that I am ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE with my wife and kids. I am more devoted to them than anything else in my life… including myself.
I ENJOY serving them. They are my world and guide all my decisions.
PLUS… I like to think I’m a nice guy.
THIS… may lead you to believe I’m a passive, calm, patient… maybe even timid… type of fellow.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
You see, I came from a tough neighborhood. And if you DIDN’T express your toughness by your actions, you would become a victim. Inner-city Dallas – in an area called, “Oak Cliff” was a sketchy neighborhood in the late 70’s and early 80’s.
In an area less than a mile from where I grew up, it was reported that in 1980, the “Twelve Hills” apartment complexes had some of the highest crime rates in America.
And that’s exactly where my best friend and I, Gary Phillips, had spent our Summer’s doing what we called, “Pool Hopping.”
That’s right, the heat of Texas Summers was SO blistering, we’d (literally) risk our lives going from complex to complex and diving in. NO, we didn’t live there, but until we got “caught” we were as wet as any other kids.
“Caught” could mean one of two things. The “best” scenario was that the management came out and asked us to leave because we didn’t live there. The “worst” scenario was that other kids would “COMPEL” us to leave… usually through force… and THAT scenario played out more than any other.
That’s why we called it “pool hopping.” There were 12 complexes… 12 pools… and until we’d been expelled from all… we were traveling to the next waterhole.
More often than occasionally, violence would erupt. More often than not, it was Gary and I that were left bloodied and bruised. But not until after we’d put up a good fight.
Typically, we didn’t throw the first punch. But once we got hit, the pain would frequently tip us in to a vicious fury.
Neither Gary nor I were big kids, but we made up for it with uncommon fury… once the pain tipped us in to that fury.
We dished out a few butt-whoopings. And yeah, we took a few butt-whoopings. Okay, maybe more than a few. We TOOK a lot more butt-whoopings.
It bred a nasty edge in me… a toughness that is STILL inside me. Just below the surface.
I manage it well (and I MUST manage it well – or else) but… it’s STILL THERE.
So, imagine my surprise when I found a picture of a chicken online and the caption read…
“Your chances of getting killed by a chicken are low… but never ZERO!”
I fell over laughing. And when I showed my wife, she immediately understood the reference.
Shelly KNOWS me. She KNOWS I love chicken and she KNOWS just below the surface lies a man who – if necessary will – well…
Let’s just say the chances… are NEVER ZERO.
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