Growing up in VA, I was the oldest of three boys. My parents expected a lot from me. They expected me to be in charge in their absence. They expected me to take care of my younger brothers. They also expected me to set the example. As a result, I followed the rules, rarely got in trouble, and became the “go-to” when they weren’t home.
My squeaky clean image not only got me praise, but also criticism. My brother often tells the story of my dad’s job opening his locker years after he had passed away. In the locker, they found a letter that I supposedly wrote while in college encouraging my dad to discipline him for not meeting the family’s expectation. For the record, I don’t remember such letter. Needless to say, I wasn’t considered cool at home or on the streets. In other words, I had no Street Creds.
I never wanted Street Creds, sought Street Creds, or gave a flying F about Street Creds. It just didn’t mean that much to me. However, the minute I walked into FPC Montgomery, I got instant credibility. I became one of them; guys who made a mistake and were paying the price.
The Street Creds came to me in a weird and unexpected way. Multiple guys called me OG. For example, “What’s up OG?” or “OG, you OK?” or “Why you here OG?” I immediately wondered, why are they calling me OG? Is it because of my salt and pepper facial hair? Is it because the average age here is probably 35 and I’m 60 and they assume I’m hip to the game? Moreover, what exactly does OG even mean anyway? Are they saying Original Gangster, Old Guy, or some other combination of OG words. I pretended to know what they were saying. Regardless, they all said it with love and respect.
I also noticed how several guys, young and old, respected how I connected with folks in the short time I’ve been here. Whether black, white, or Hispanic, you can count on me to build relationships. They also appreciated that I shared my life experiences. They appreciated that I shared my knowledge about a range of topics including business, parenting, goal setting, problem solving, education, etc. Finally, they appreciated the simple company and comradery that I’ve added to our wing.
While I never wanted Street Creds, sought Street Creds, or gave a flying F about Street Creds, now, I’m really glad I have ’em. Being an OG feels pretty good.
