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Writing is very therapeutic and it makes me feel good. So many things have happened since my husband’s passing on June 9 that I couldn’t possibly blog about every single instance. Overall, I’ve received tons of love, prayer and support and I’ve chosen to focus on that rather than some of the uglier things. However, after the calls that I received last week, I changed my mind and decided to let a few things out. Longtime readers, as well as friends and family know that MrTDJ and I came from two different worlds. He called my life, “The Cosby Show” and I called his, “Boyz In Da Hood”; two loving households, set against very opposing backdrops. Neither of us took offense to the others perspective. We agreed and laughed about the parallel yet dissimilar experiences often. He found it especially humorous that although I’m a Huxtable through and through, folks don’t recognize my gangsta because they let the bougie fool ’em. I’m nobody’s fool and when necessary, I can handle foolishness with a quickness. I’ve always had a good amount of street smarts and my dear husband helped to instill tons more into me over the years. It seems that some folks think I’m 100% Huxtable and born yesterday without the ability to to know how “the game” is played. M’kay, they’ve got me confused with someone else. Just to be 100% clear – calling the widow of your deceased “friend” at 1am sniffing for signs of weakness is NOT o.k. Nope, sure isn’t. The convo went a little something like this: MrsTDJ: Hello? Vulture #1: Hey MrsTDJ MrsTDJ: Who is this? Vulture #1: This is Vulture #1, MrTDJ’s buddy MrsTDJ: How did you get my number and why are you calling me so late? Vulture #1: Oh, I got it from Vulture #2 and I was calling to check in on you and the little man. Seeing if y’all needed anything. I scrunch my face up and consider the comments. I’m pretty sure that I’ve never spoken to Vulture #1 on the phone before. He certainly was not a “friend” of my husband’s. Acquaintance – yes? Friend – NOT! The audacity of the person that ponied up my cell # so easily along with his gusto to proceed with the call rubbed me all kinds of wrong. MrsTDJ: It’s late and we’re sleeping. I’m not sure who you got my number from, but I’m gonna need you to never call me this late again. Vulture #1: Oh, I’m sorry about the time. I know MrTDJ was a night owl, so…..Anyway, you know, if you need anything, I got you. I mean anything at all. I hate to see you all lonely and trying to raise little man by yourself, so if you ever – MrsTDJ: Look dude. I’m not the one. Go prey on someone else because I’m not THAT type of grieving widow searching for a hero to take away the pain. Damn! And if I was, it damn sure wouldn’t be you. Please lose my f*cking number. Later in the week, another call came in while I was driving. Again, lets be 100% clear – calling the widow of your deceased “boy” in an effort to fleece expensive electronics equipment from her is NOT o.k. Nope, sure isn’t. MrsTDJ: Hello? Vampire #1: Hey baby girl. How you holding up over there? MrsTDJ: Who is this? Vampire #1: Oh, this is Vampire #1. You know me and MrTDJ was boys. MrsTDJ: I know who you are. Vampire #1: Yeah, I’m still messed up behind him passing away so suddenly. I remember the last time I saw him a few months ago. MrsTDJ: Uh huh. Is there something specific you wanted? Vampire #1: Yeah, well Vampire #2 and I were rapping yesterday, and thinking back to rolling with him in that Suburban he loved so much. Man, that was a serious system he had in that truck. Everybody used to talk about that system. I know you’re not really into all that stuff, so if you were needing a friendly face to help take it off of your hands, Vampire #2 and I could help with that. MrsTDJ: Oh yeah? Vampire #1: Right, right. Most of that stuff only meant something to him, you know? Like it was a nice setup he had, but the parts didn’t cost a whole lot. So you wouldn’t make too much money off of it and we’d only take a small cut, but yeah, it’s the least we could do for our boy. MrsTDJ: So, now trying to trick a widow out of material possessions is what’s popping in the streets? You and Vampire #2 can kiss my ass. Kindly lose my f*cking number. **smh** Really y’all??? Really??? That’s the way the game is played, huh? Hmph. Well, I’ve got a different set of rules and folks don’t seem to recognize. I wasn’t the shrinking violet type before my husband’s death, and I’m damn sure not it now. In the moment, both of those fools irritated me, but in hindsight, I’m forced to laugh. I suppose they both really thought their cons would work. How sad but I’m happy that my sense of humor is not completely lost and I can see the comedy in their desperation.

Taya Dunn Johnson,


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