chapters of a man who has survived, hustled, dreamed
Inserts from my coming soon autobiography The flow and clarity of a published memoir.
Inserts from my autobiography
chapters of a man who has survived, hustled, dreamed, and kept going.
The flow and clarity of a published memoir.
1. Lillie Mae & Irene — The Women Who Shaped My Heart
1. My mother, Lillie Mae, transitioned on July 4th, and losing her felt like losing the center of my world. She was a real mother in every sense — loving, steady, and devoted to all eight of her children. I loved her deeply. Her warmth shaped the man I became. Growing up, I often found myself wishing I could have met my grandmother, Irene. She was taken from this world far too soon, killed by domestic violence when my mother was still a young girl. That loss echoed through generations. Even without meeting her, I carried a quiet longing for the woman whose strength and sacrifice helped build the Kirkwood family.
2. The LA Gear Hustle — My First Taste of Business
By the 9th grade, I had already stepped into entrepreneurship. I met the owners of the LA Gear brand, and although they didn’t know my age, they licensed me to open an official LA Gear store in Helena/West Helena, Arkansas. I sold the full product line — shoes, sweat suits, jogging suits, everything. For about two years, I kept that store alive through pure determination. Every night it was burglarized. Thousands of dollars in merchandise stolen. I was replacing broken windows almost every other day. Then I’d show up at Central High School the next morning and see students wearing the very LA Gear items stolen from my shop. It was a hard lesson in business, trust, and resilience — but it didn’t break me. It built me.
4. Wrestling Dreams — From TV-5 Memphis to Managing Champions
In the 7th grade, I fell in love with wrestling watching TV‑5 Memphis Wrestling every Saturday morning. One of my teachers and her husband regularly attended the live WMC TV‑5 tapings, and they invited me to join their family. That invitation changed my life. One weekend, I met Jerry “The King” Lawler and Jimmy “Mouth of the South” Hart. Jerry Lawler gave me his home phone number, and we would talk wrestling for hours — three days a week, sometimes for entire evenings. Those conversations opened doors I never imagined. Before long, I was managing the Southern Tag Team Champions PG‑13 and working alongside other wrestlers. Jimmy Hart and I built a friendship that continues to this day. The full story — every wild, unbelievable detail — will be in my autobiography.
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excluded from one of the most important moments of MY life
excluded from one of the most important moments of MY life, and that pain has a long shadow.
When my mother transitioned on July 4th,
All of us siblings had taken turns spending weekends with Mom as her health declined. It was a rhythm, a rotation, a way of making sure she was never alone. That weekend — the weekend she took her final breath around 5 a.m., it was my oldest brother Willie turn. My baby sister lived just a block away, and she was notified immediately. The news traveled… but somehow, it didn’t travel the 100 miles to Memphis,
I didn’t get the call until 5:22 p.m. Twelve long hours after my mother had already gone home to glory.
And the part that still burns — the part that sits heavy on my chest even today — is knowing that my brother Willie or sister Bernice never called me, I had NO idea why this was being hidden from me? Sylvester had be told to call me. As if I were an afterthought. As if I didn’t deserve to know the moment my mother left this world.
I lost trust that day. I lost respect. Something in me shifted, and it hasn’t shifted back.
I haven’t been able to forgive my brother Willie or my sister Bernice. I’ve tried. I’ve prayed. I’ve battled with Jesus Christ Himself, asking Him to take this weight off me, to soften my heart, to help me understand. But the wound is deep, and healing has been slow.
And then there’s Leon — who didn’t even show up for Mom’s Home Going Service. After everything she did for us. After all the years she made sure we were never hungry, never homeless, never without clean clothes ironed with love. After all the sacrifices she made, all the nights she stayed up, all the mornings she rose early. She gave us everything she had, and still, some of us couldn’t give her the honor she deserved at the end.
That broke something in me too.
The truth is, this whole ordeal has driven a wedge between us. Willie and I don’t speak. Leon and I don’t speak. And sometimes I wonder if we ever will again. Not because I don’t love them — but because trust, once shattered, doesn’t fall back into place like nothing happened.
I’m still carrying this. Still trying to understand it. Still trying to forgive. Still trying to make peace with the fact that the people closest to me caused the deepest hurt I’ve ever known.
But this is my story read the full story in my coming soon auto bio.
You cannot heal what you refuse to name, and this wound runs deep.
Say to yourself: "This hurt me because I loved her, and I deserved to be told."