Grillless

R’awb da Jewl’ry STOR and tell’em to make mi a grill… 

 Va à la bijouterie et dis leur de me faire des grillz

Years ago, I had my list of all time rap records. At the time it was a list of albums, and I’m sure Tribe was on there, BDP, etc. but over the years I have forgotten who exactly was on my list. This is because I had one of those moments, one of those moments where you realize your philosophy was wick-wick-wack, definitely an eye opening experience if you will.

Back then I was working at a well known place inside a well known stadium (which recently had a name change). The names don’t matter, but what matters is that I had come in that day, excited to tell my co-worker my epiphany, for I had just made my list of the best of the best, and I felt it was comprised of strong selections, Rap Music’s “Must Haves”.

My friend is one of those types, a fellow person who digs the music, you know the ones, you meet them everywhere, and you have that feeling, that shared experience of the love for the music, you don’t have to speak it.

So, after many discussions about hip hop, I related my list to him, and he smiled and nodded at each and every one that I spoke of that day. What he said afterward has affected me to this day, and I live by these words.

Today I can’t remember exactly, word for word, what was said. I live it now, it is a part of me. Essentially, the words were this: You cannot name the “Best of the Best” because the “Best of the Best” is still to come. In other words, don’t make your top 10 list just yet, because the history of the music is still being written.

Now, this was well before the “Hip Hop Is Dead” ideology that’s going around today; we’re talking early nineties here. However, the philosophy of a living, breathing culture still exists, you just have to find it, and find it within yourself.

Now that is something you can share.

So the other day, well, it was the other week, I was standing in line at the local corner coffee shop. It was probably my afternoon coffee, the second and last coffee of the day for me. At that time of day, it usually isn’t too crowded in the shop, juxtaposed to the morning when there is a lineup out the door (serious coffee drinkers here). Usually, at that time in the afternoon, I can just stroll right in and be served a la de facto (just making ‘ish up there). On this day; there was one patron in front of me. Cool, waiting is no stress.

What happened next was not something you get to bear witness to everyday.

Let me set this up, flashback to that morning, I had no change for the man and took out my debit card with many apologies.

Enter the afternoon, same guy behind the counter, and what does the guy in front of me say? Something along the lines of, “Sorry, I don’t have any money, I will have to pay by credit card”…! Now, I’m sure the folks at the corner coffee store get this a bunch; debit cards, comp. cards (read: gift), credit cards. But this time, and bless him, the guy behind the counter said, “That’s ok, but you will have to sign for it with this really BIG pen”…! No joke, he reaches for this gigantic (read: oversized) pen and hands it to the patron.

Wouldn’t you believe it, the guy actually says ok to that and signs for it! (gotta love canada!)… SO, I’m already in tears, but not trying to show it, not only because I had empathy and really felt for this patron, but the situation was just so bizarre and real, that you couldn’t help crack a smile…

The closer?

After signing for it and handing it back, the employee asks the guy, “…Is that your real signature?”

Truth!

I tipped him large that day.

No joke.

So, the other day I was at the local corner store. I forget what I was there for now. Water? Throat candies? Something like that. I was in a very curious mood and I let my eyes scan the candy bar racks below the counter top. I scanned the usual suspects until my eyes stopped suddenly; I couldn’t believe what my eyes were relating to my brain, as my mind raced back fifteen or so years. Right there, about three rows down and far to the left of me I saw them. A box of Mackenzie Toffee, only the package only says Mack now, or did it always?

 Fifteen or so years ago seems like a lifetime away now. It was summertime, and I was spending it at my grandparents and working for my next door neighbour doing odd jobs. That summer away from home, the only rap music I could get was “Push It” and I was craving something else besides “Push It”, but the only other thing was the likes of ”Stairway To Heaven”. In other words, I wasn’t exactly in a place to hear some hip hop.

Nonetheless, that was the summer of alcohol in plastic and toffee candy, and the great feeling you got from wacking the cardboard toffee box as hard as you could to break it into little tiny pieces. These days, they now give directions on the box, which I don’t remember from my youthful days.

The directions are on the sides, and due to laws that govern our society up here in the great big Northern area of your map, there are two languages on the box, English and French. So, “Mack A Smack”, and “Mack On Craque” are the messages that this box delivers.

Is our society so crack and heroin obsessed that they have to use it to sell this message to our children? is this “Scottish” and what the kids are into these days? I have no idea but it got a great laugh at the office.

One thing is for sure, it’s still the same toffee on the inside.