MNR: DANCE WITH MY MAMA (SHAREON, NATE & ME)

#MNR: DANCE WITH MY MAMA (SHAREON, NATE & ME)
 
“We’ll get over like a fat rat. Peas in a pod, bugs in a rug, we’ll never stop. We’ll get over like a fat rat. Snug as a hug in your arms.”
Fonda Rae
 
“There’s not a minute, hour, day, or night that I don’t love you. You’re at the top of my list ‘cause I’m always thinking of you.”
Luther Vandross
 
“You light my fire. I feel alive with you baby. You blow my mind. I’m satisfied. Outstanding (so outstanding). Girl you knock me out. Exciting (I’m so excited). Makes me wanna shout.”
Charlie Wilson (The Gap Band)
 
Shareon Denise Warren (Thompson, Smith) would have been seventy years young last Thursday, October 17. Happy Birthday, mommy. This blog is all about you. And Nate. I’m a guest star, I suppose, a secondary character.
 
My sun Nate celebrated his fifteenth trip around el sol today. Happy earth day, young’n. Nate’s my student and spiritual advisor. He is the first person to point out that my mother’s name begins with “share.” I’ve looked at and spelled Shareon’s name for well over thirty years and never once noticed “share.” I immediately pondered how concise “share” was when it came to Shareon, and I dropped a couple of tears on the spot. Nate knows things about Shareon that only people closest to me know. Like I said, he’s my spiritual advisor. He knows that I wasn’t the best son when I was a bratty, petulant, ungrateful, hoe-ass teenager. I didn’t treat my queen as royalty. Prayerfully, I autocorrected as a young adult and cherished my earth for the rest of her time in physical form. Nate knows all this. He and his mom have an interesting relationship, and when he’s spinning the world on one finger, I try to be a catalyst for discernment. I’m judicious in my approach to dealing with our discussions, but I’m pro-Nate. I’m also pro-mom.
 
One day, I asked Nate to consider his mother in a different light. I reminded him that she too once sat at a desk in a school as a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old. She had her own hopes and dreams. As I progressed as an adult, I always thought about the events that shaped my mother as a human. I’m familiar with more than a few, and wholly aware that there are plenty of things she experienced in life that I have no idea of.
 
But I do know one motherfucking thing...
 
My mama was that girl.
 
My most cherished memories of Shareon & me are from the early ‘80s, when I was young world and Shareon was taller than the floats she took me to see every Thanksgiving day. She was my entire world. She was my protector. She was my best friend. She was my mommy. She was my hero.
 
Friday nights were usually cut and paste, but they were dearest to my heart. Shareon would pick me up from my afterschool program and we’d head back uptown. When we hit the block she always asked what I wanted for dinner. It always came down to Chinese (her favorite) or pizza (my favorite). The question was unnecessary yet enjoyable for her to witness me answer with glee. I always chose pizza. We’d get home, I’d clean up, and she’d set me up in the bedroom – good eats and cable television. I was good for the night. All my aunties and godfathers were on the way. So was Uncle Alan. The grown folk were finna have one good ass night of debauchery. I was oblivious to it all. I was in my cocoon, with nary a care in the world.
 
As I grew older, I delved deeper into music. Naturally, I spun the block and researched all the music I remembered from my childhood, the music Shareon, Ty dem cut a rug all damn night to. Puffer was using old samples all over hip-hop beats anyway, further stoking my thirst for insight on the music. I always gravitated to the early ‘80s, back to my favorite days with Shareon. I came up with three classics she loved, classics which I too love. The three? You have already seen the rollout. Let’s get to it.
 
“Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross (1981)
“Over Like a Fat Rat” by Fonda Rae (1982)
“Outstanding” by The Gap Band (1982)
 
Shareon and Tyrone had a good damn time in the early ‘80s. I should know. Plenty of my Saturday and Sunday mornings were spent walking past (and over) godfathers and aunts on my way to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. That was the 12” record era, with the record player on top of the twin cassette deck in something plywood and glass. Record covers doubled as surfaces to deseed and break up reefa. These were the jams that had Shareon on the dance floor all night. Sis had it going on: young, educated, and successful. She had a great job at R.R. Bowker, a well-known publishing company from back then. I’m blessed to say I had a library in my house/apartment/crib my entire upbringing. But back to Shareon. She was a symbol of Black excellence in the first decade that women of all races got a halfway decent shot at making it in the workforce outside of nepotism or fucking and sucking their way up the corporate and every other ladder. NO JUDGEMENT ZONE. Syke. Anyway, I smile when I think about Shareon enjoying herself back then. The world was still at her fingertips. Warrens AND Thompsons know how to party. I’m certain that was part of Shareon and Ty’s attraction for one another. But these and other countless jams blasted from my living room Friday and Saturday nights from my post toddler years through my formative years.
 
I wonder if Fonda Rae knew she had one the moment she stepped out the booth after recording “Over Like A Fat Rat.” I’m inclined to think that she did. I would have known as soon as I heard the bass line and piano drop for the first time. But I think that she couldn’t have fathomed the enduring legacy of the song in her most vivid and lucid dream back in 1982. It didn’t sell 10M records. Naw. It did much more in places where money doesn’t matter. It became an instant smash hit and enduring NYC party classic. This song belongs to New York Fucking City. My mama and every other Black and Boricua NYC resident got super busy to this track. It still rocks. I’m talking right fucking now. Be at a Black function and let this drop like an hour after the function really got lit, right around the time the third and fourth drinks are consumed. This song will shut the venue down. Truly legendary shit. New Yorkers love this song with a special affinity. It holds a special place in their hearts. You had to be there. You had to be outside. Shareon was.
 
I could go on and on about “Never Too Much.” I’ll begin with the fact that Luther was Shareon’s favorite artist. I was literally raised off Luther. I can remember being a bit more than a toddler and “Never Too Much” playing on the stereo. That’s how much it was spun in my house. It is one of Luther’s quintessential songs. It too is a staple at Black familial functions. Shareon loved it. It was her jam. It should come as no surprise that it too is my jam. I can see her now, dancing carefree on an uptown Saturday night, laughing and enjoying stolen moments with those dearest to her. You live on in my spirit, but you come to life when I hear “Never Too Much” at the right time.
 
Yeah, Marvin was still alive and kicking. Luther was killing the charts. Ronald Isley wasn’t Mr. Big yet. He was still with his brothers. Donny [Hathaway] was gone (teary eye emoji). Stevie kept reinventing himself and was on his fourth run. But no one (and I mean no one) was quite like that damn Charlie Wilson. This was way before his solo endeavors, back when he was still 1/3 of the baddest trio on the planet, The Gap Band. He and his brothers Ronnie and Robert had the R&B/funk thing down to a science. The Gap Band had plenty of hits, but “Outstanding” is their gold medal winner. Just like the other two songs mentioned, this is a staple at all Black familial functions and has a good chance of being played before the other two. Shareon jammed to this throughout my life. We were able to enjoy it together at functions when I joined the ranks of adulthood, which came with drankin’ in front of her privileges. But she cut a rug to it from day one. I know it tore WBLS up. Shareon used to record off the radio, and I spent my formative years listening to plenty of these tapes. “Outstanding” was one of her jams. Those were the days.
 
The last family function my mother attended was spring 2016 when her baby sister and my auntie Cynthia received her degree. Everyone came down for the celebration. The after party was at auntie’s house. By that time, my mother needed a wheelchair to get around. She chose to sit inside in the living room while most people were outside dancing as my MAGAt cousin DJ Green spun records for the event. I chose to stay inside and keep my mom company and run an errand if need be. I remember cousin playing “Electric Slide.” All the ladies ages 8-70 hit the patio, which served as the dance floor. I watched my mother as she stared through the patio sliding door at the ladies dancing. She didn’t have to say a word. I knew that she wanted to be out there dancing with her baby sister and family more than anything else. A piece of me perished that day.
 
Shareon was gone 13 months later.
 
I still remember the look on her face.
I wish I could have gone outside and danced with her.
 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY
 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NATE
 
I LOVE YOU BOTH.