My oldest brother never backed down from a fight or a neighborhood bully in his life.

 It probably has a lot to do with his birth order. Or maybe his position as the designated person in charge. Most families have one. It can be an appointed position or earned through a series of ongoing family crises and you are unofficially selected and expected to handle it by default.

Growing up Chime held that position in our family. By the age of 14, he was already a veteran of defending, protecting, guiding, and directing us. Well at least the brothers under him. He could box like a prizefighter. Or shadow boxed like some of the greats. The two Joe’s (Louis and Frazier) and the one and only Ali. He was a champion chess player.

He played tennis, studied martial arts, and he was a shark on the pool table. Chime could hit a baseball to another city on the first swing and could throw a football so far down the block the zip code would change. At one point, he played the trumpet. Or maybe he practiced a lot. I guess being the firstborn son had its privileges. I never heard my mother ask him to stop making all that noise.

I liked to watch my brothers play football outside rather than inside all day with chores that never ended. I was pretty sure that I could play just as well or better. How hard could it be? I would soon find out.

It was on a spring-like winter Saturday in October. The neighborhood team huddled up in preparation for the game. For some reason, Stanley sat out for the first few minutes and I jumped at the chance to replace him.

“Can I  play.”? I eagerly asked Chime.

“No crying if you get hit”.  Chime said.

“I would have to get caught for that”. I said with confidence.

It was fourth down, I was supposed to gain at least 10 yards. But I wanted to run the ball into the end zone. Wishful thinking for a rookie. When Chime released the ball, everyone moved back to see if I could even catch it. I anxiously reached up for the ball too soon and it hit me with the impact of padded brick. I lost my vision for a few minutes, my head split into a thousand pieces, I twisted my right ankle slightly, but I did not cry.

  “You Ok? Chime asked, shaking his head ” Silly girl, take a time out.”. I did just that. It was my first and last game.

 In some ways, Chime reminded me of Popeye the Sailor. He never looked for a fight, but he would finish one. And he didn’t need spinach. Most of the time his fights centered around defending a younger brother. Nobody ran upon on Stanley, and Bay was the baby. But then there was Kenneth, Chime’s devoted little brother.

He was more like Chime’s shadow than any of us.  Wherever you saw Chime, Kenneth was close by. When his friends Michael or Philip came by to get Chime for a game of basketball, Kenneth always wanted to follow them on his bicycle.

He just had to be wherever Chime was. Most of the time it was the neighborhood recreation center unless he was going to the library to finish a special assignment. Like this time. Kenneth rode home alone.

Having waited to the last minute to complete an assignment Chime left the Boys Club after the last game.  He put his basketball under one arm his books under the other and entered into the research section of Malcolm X Library. His research paper was due and he stayed two hours longer playing basketball. But like his hero “Earl the Pearl”, Chime thrived in crunch time.

Underneath his blue pullover shirt was a sweat-soaked t-shirt slowly drying out. He ignored the body aches and pains as he shifted his focus to his assignment.  In our house, basketball was the sport. Learn the game, endure the pain, play or go home. That familiar NBA catchphrase was nothing new. Whining was unthinkable and officially unacceptable. Chime got comfortable in his favorite spot He enjoyed the quiet stillness of knowledge that seemed to exude from the books around him.

  Suddenly two young men in sweats rushed towards him. It was Michael and Phillip.

  “Chime, you better come quick! Phillip shouted, ignoring the unwelcome look from the clerk.

 “Yeah Man, it’s Kenneth. He’s hurt,” said Michael.

” Some cats from Logan Fontenelle jumped him and … they took his bicycle.”

Chime hastily gathered his books, threw the ball to Phillip, and took off running past the quiet sign.

     The downtown Boys Club had the usual gathering of onlookers. Everyone was eager to run and tell their version of what happened.

But today, he was injured. His left eye was bruised and his knuckles were swollen with blisters.

  ” I never let go of the handlebars Chime,.. until they slashed at me with that knife”. I was not scared, I promise I wasn’t.”  Kenneth said holding himself.

   Chime was too mad to speak. But his eyes showed his fury. He cut a lot of grass in the blazing sun and shoveled snow in the winter to get that Schwinn Bicycle for Kenneth’s birthday.

  Kenneth was sent home and instructed to say nothing, while Phillip, Michael, and Chime headed straight to Gilbert Street Pool Hall. Chime entered the Pool Hall unarmed with nothing but his courage.

Michael and Phillip stood guard out front.

  ” You tell the coward who hurt my brother that I’m looking for him. Next

time he’ll have to deal with me first…that’s a promise”. Chime said calmly.

A street-worn young man called  “Slim” walked over near Chime. He was chewing on a day-old toothpick and forced a smile.

“To bad about your brother, he had a choice, he should have gotten off the bicycle”.

Chime became infuriated and positioned himself to attack “Slim”, martial arts style.

 ” Oh look, it’s Bruce Lee with an Afro”. Slim laughed.

But his laughter was cut short. Chime caught him by surprise with a swift kick in the face as he dropped helplessly to the floor. While sighs of unbelief echoed on the sidelines, Slim reached into his pants leg and pulled out a switchblade. He came at Chime in full force. Chime was quick but Slim still managed to slash him deep across the lower thigh. The crowd scattered in all directions while the distant sounds of police sirens became louder and closer.

  Phillip and Michael ran towards Chime, lifted him on each side, placed him into the car and took him to St. Joseph’s hospital. Chime wasn’t settled into the emergency room very long when a couple of local police officers showed up asking questions, trying to intimidate, and hinting at facing charges.

   Across the hall was another young man, who had his tonsils removed that same day. Stretched out he was about 6’5, Hershey-bar brown, and bowlegged. Donald Ray Jones was the name on the medical chart. Donald Ray lived in the same neighborhood about 2 blocks over on Caldwell St. My brother and Donald Ray became friends instantly while playing street football with the neighborhood pro squad. You can call me Donny, he told Chime while tossing him the football.

“Im Charlie”, my brother said. To which Donald Ray said ok ” Chime Chittlings”…The nickname stuck minus the chittlins.

After playing a couple of games of silent chess, Donald Ray scribbled out a short note and rang the nurse station buzzer.

“Please give this to the guy next door,” he asked pointing to Chime’s room. The note read ” I heard what they said Chime, don’t worry about it.”  Chime smiled.

   My brother found out that he would have to appear in court for disturbing the

peace in a public place. What the heck did that mean? What about Kenneth being hurt? Slim was also ordered to appear, but he bragged to anyone who would listen, that he had no intention of appearing in court.

    Chime arrived at “Juvenile Court” prepared to tell his side with our Mother and

 Uncle Eddie. Also known as  “head of Security” in the family. (please don’t mess with Eddie on a bad day, or a good day.)

The halls of the courtroom were filled with young kids who got caught, court clerks with document carts and their unhappy parents. Everyone wishes to be anyplace but here…

          Donald Ray was nearby with a couple of unidentified young men but left in search of a vending machine with some sugar babies, and the nearest restroom.

Chime glanced up and noticed him walking by, but he couldn’t move fast enough. He wasn’t the only one watching. Another young man hiding behind the daily news and a cigarette spotted Donald Ray and followed him into the restroom.

     In the main lobby, the elevator doors opened on the cold marble floor. Out stepped four young men ranging  from 23 to 28 years old. Each one of them is over 6’3 inches tall and all muscle.  The oldest looked at his watch and asked,

  ” Where did he go”?

  ” Who knows ” replied the other.”

  ” The busses are still running, let’s go” said another young man laughing.

     The restroom was out of hand towels so Donald Ray shook his hands dry.

  Just as he walked to the stall for some other kind of paper, in walks a short young man with a blue rag tied around his head, smiling.

   ” You tell your friend Chime that Slim says if he says the wrong thing in court he’ll be sorry”. He said.

   “Say what flunky? You tell your cowardly skunk ass friend, if he wants Chime, he’ll have to come through me, first! As for you, we can take this outside right now!

The two of them leave the restroom but are unaware of another man who has been very occupied in the last stall near the back corner. He walks out very confidently after them and doesn’t even raise his voice.

  ” You run and tell Slim this… If he wants Donny, he has to come through us first.”

At that same moment like warriors rushing to battle, the other four young men walk swiftly towards Donald Ray, with Chime following at a much slower speed on one crutch, but right behind them.

   Slims’ no name messenger suddenly found himself in much need of some spinach and took off running.

When Chime joined them, Donald Ray said, “You all know my friend Chime”. 

Chime nodded in agreement. They smiled with approval.

  “Chime, this is Guy, David, Kevin, Robert, and Jackie Wilson Jones, my BIG brothers. Anybody bother you, they bothering me…and them. Chime just smiled.  Keeping up with the Jones’ just took on a hold new meaning.