To date, Eminem (a.k.a. Slim Shady, Shady) hasn’t trucked passed the places I been trucking. Nor for that matter, has Dr. Dre. However, in 1999, I fell head over heels with this lad’s talent. By 2003, Shady’s clothing line broke floor space at the Magic Show. Thinking the moment had finally arrived, I’d get to chill’ wit Eminem face to face. Here it is 2009, and I’m still waiting. Many of Eminem’s staff I knew from other lines they had worked.
The staff handed me ONE of Shady’s tee’s. Of course with six grandsons who back Eminem, ONE tee shirt may as well be none. I admired Eminem right out the gate. Unlike most parents and grandparents, I appreciated Eminem’s talent. I thought how clever of Eminem to spit truth about his sh*tty life and his feelings about a messed up society. Till Eminem came along I hadn’t heard any artist gut wrench their parent publicly, in such a fashion as he.
My children, my relations, and my friends, thought I had lost my mind. Red light to red light while driving, I’d be bouncing behind the wheel with my stereo cranked rappin’, “Please Stand Up”. People would look over at me as if I was crazy. Eminem’s rhymes made sense to me.
When the movie “8 Mile” hit the box office, I went to see it three times. Listening to Eminem’s music helped me win popularity among young adults. It enabled me to understand where children of today are coming from. It served as a way for me to talk with children rather than at them. It also proved to my grandchildren that I didn’t have a generation gap. Three cheers to Eminem.