A Quote by J.I.D

Only person who took me serious was my mom and my sister Rachael. — © J.I.D
Only person who took me serious was my mom and my sister Rachael.
I was a sickly baby, and after two sets of adoptive parents took me home, they returned me to the orphanage because of a serious respiratory infection. But as they say, the third time's a charm, because my mom and dad adopted me and took me into their home where I was raised in a family full of love.
My mom took my sister and me to see Elvis [Presley] in concert when was, maybe 5 or 6, and I liked everything about it.
When I was seven, my mom took my twin sister and me to a play. I remember being fascinated about life onstage.
The truth is, he almost wasn't a senator at all. In 1972, shortly after his improbable victory, but before he took the oath of office, my father went to Washington to look at his new office space. My mom took us to go buy a Christmas tree. On the way home, we were in an automobile accident. My mom, Neilia, and my sister, Naomi, were killed.
The only struggle came from me wanting more for my family and feeling like if they had one less individual to take care of - if my mom only had her and my sister and my grandmother and my aunt to take care of, couldn't she do the things she was doing for me for herself? That's the reason I took myself away from my family. I left home when I was 13 years old to assume the responsibilities of being a man.
My sister was much closer to Mom. Mom accompanied my sister to all her shootings. I made my way on my own.
It was just my mom, my sister and me. And from a young age, my mom always said I was like the man of the house. I really became the man of the house. And I really took that responsibility very seriously: being the man of the house, the protector.
I lost my girl a couple years back, Aaliyah, in a plane crash. I wasn't expecting that, and also, my mother died, and at the time, my father wasn't in my life; the only person that took care of me was my mom.
To my mom, I don't know how to describe my mom. She is the most wonderful person in my life. She gave me love. She took me to the ballpark when I was just a little boy running around, hanging around.
The first concert I ever went to was the Bee Gees. I don't know if you remember the Bee Gees. My mom took me. I was little. But my mom was a big disco fan, and - my mom took me to the Bee Gees. Looking back now, it's pretty embarrassing if your first concert was with your mom.
I'm ridiculous in my oversharing; my mom and sister are very open but a little more judicious than me... and my father is a decidedly private person.
Most of the bio men on earth were born to women, so it's pretty ordinary! But I think because I had come from a matriarchy - my father died when I was young, and I only have a sister and a stepsister - when I told my mom and my sister that I was having a boy, they were both like, "That does not compute within our family relation!" It was like, "Girls only here!" Now that all seems very strange to me.
We hug, but there are no tears. For every awful thing that's been said and done, she is my sister. Parents die, daughters grow up and marry out, but sisters are for life. She is the only person left in the world who shares my memories of our childhood, our parents, our Shanghai, our struggles, our sorrows, and, yes, even our moments of happiness and triumph. My sister is the one person who truly knows me, as I know her. The last thing May says to me is 'When our hair is white, we'll still have our sister love.
I was 13 when I developed the classic symptoms of a person who gets diabetes: a lot of weight loss, a tremendous thirst, and blurry eyesight. My mom took me to the hospital, and the doctors took some blood tests. My blood sugar was so high that they knew right away.
My mom was a single mother, raising my sister and me. My mom has an incredible talent for living in the world without traditional structure, and her friend, who was in advertising, put me in a commercial when I was five. It was just to make money.
Kevin [Drew] beat me to the punch because when he first sent "Sister OK" and I'm listening to it, it took me to a place that I had not been to in a long time. It took me to a place when you're a teenager. I understand it all now, but in a moment of confusion, in a moment of trying to find some kind of solid ground in an environment that was quicksand in my life, it's that first line just kills me all the time: "Well it's just that your sister said you'd be OK."
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