In the 1980’s, the number of child runaways on the streets of Seattle was at epidemic proportions. The problem inspired the classic and riveting documentary, “STREETWISE”, which was nominated for an Academy Award in 1984.
Author Justin Reed Early, a credited participant of the documentary and now successful Los Angeles resident, tells the story of how he survived the arduous streets. We grow with this homeless youth as he relives a harrowing journey into adulthood. Justin introduces us to the characters and dramas of his younger years bringing new life to his street family as many of their lives have been silenced by AIDS, suicide and serial killers (the Green River killer).
Join this tragic yet magical journey as Justin honors childhood heroes, pays tribute to many lost friends and learns of forgiveness when the now middle aged Justin is thrust into a life defining experience that will change his world – forever.
Justin Reed Early was born in Bellingham, WA. He spent his childhood as a homeless youth on the streets of Seattle and was a credited participant in the Academy Award-nominated movie, STREETWISE (1984). Justin was a public speaker and educator in San Francisco and Seattle and worked in the music industry as a promoter and disc jockey in New York and Los Angeles. He was a co-founding Board Member of the popular youth agency, BAY Positives in San Francisco and served on several committees. He is an avid supporter of homeless youth and human rights and was recently on the Board of Directors of the National Network for Youth, which is based out of Washington, DC.
He currently resides in Los Angeles, CA with his dogs, Biggy Smallz and "Missy" Elliott.
NEW BEGINNINGS
I decided to call Sean, one of my new friends from the support group. Sean and I got along well. He provided crucial information - sometimes as simple as how to order gourmet pizza. But at this point in my development all new information was important. Sean was African American and very handsome. He wore glasses that made him look like a bookworm and had an independent persona that made him hip. Most of my friends, white or black or Latino were either ghetto or trailer trash so I was grateful to have a friend who was so well rounded and willing to teach me things.
“Have you thought about being a waiter?” he asked.
“I’ve never done anything like that.”
I couldn’t even picture myself doing something so difficult.
“All you do write down what they want to eat and serve them food,” he schooled.
“When they’re done, hand them a check with a big fat smile and you got it made!” He assured me that waiting tables would be a good experience. Sean was in food service and had been trained as a chef and pastry chef.
“I know someone at a restaurant in the Marina. I want you to call him.”
I made the call, went to the interview and was hired on the spot to start work the next day. I shared the good news with Shannon, who was thrilled.
I had no idea what went into Food Service. There were so many things that I had to explain to the customers and I wasn’t allowed to write it down on a piece of paper. I had to study the menu and the ingredients, and remember everything for when I was giving information and taking orders.
After completing my training, I started to wait tables on my own and although I was nervous, did fairly well.
One day, I was helping an interesting couple when the elder lady asked me a question.
“What does the grilled chicken come with young man?” She must have been in her 90’s and was sitting with a younger man who was probably in his 50’s.
“You have three options, ma’am. Mashed potatoes, a delicious seasoned brown rice or placenta,” I explained efficiently. The man had a confused look on his face. He looked at her and then at me. It made me feel uncomfortable.
“Placenta?” the lady asked sweetly.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s delicious.” I said with confidence. “I tasted it in the kitchen and it’s very good.” I smiled at her encouraging her to make a decision.
She looked at her male friend with a smile. Now amused, he gladly chimed in. “Do you mean polenta?”
“Oh.” I said seriously, “Yes, I did.”
I was trying not to acknowledge that I just offered someone afterbirth to go with their chicken.
Shit. What an idiot. I started to panic inside, but remained somewhat calm.
“Excuse me, please.” I couldn’t finish their order. I just turned around walked to my station where the manager was standing observing my performance. I told him what happened and he started laughing uncontrollably at my mistake.
As soon as he calmed himself down he walked directly to their table to clean up my mess. He waved for me to come over.
“Darling,” the old lady said nicely, “we are allowed to make mistakes. I’m so old a little placenta might do me a bit of good. There is a little too much ‘sag’ in the old ‘bag’.” She rubbed her aging face, “It’s almost time for a date with Dr. Wonderful.”
With the ice broken and everyone laughing so hard we had wet spots in our underwear, I completed their order. When they were done eating, they left me $100 tip and insisted that I call them.