"Calvin" | Memoir | Part I of VI | Foundations

I believe that each community has a mischievous child.
 
In the housing projects, our bad boy was Calvin Smart, who we named Calvin the Milk Bandit.
 
Calvin was harmless; however, he irritated us constantly by knocking on our doors for milk! He drank so much milk that his mother kept running out of it. Calvin did not want milk from a carton; he wanted a specific type. He preferred PET or Carnation evaporated-in-a-can kinds of milk.

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Calvin the Milk Bandit banged on our doors in the early morning or late evening, looking for milk. He asked to “borrow” milk. He asked for sugar to be mixed into the canned milk. Calvin consumed milk like water. We always saw him drinking a beverage, usually milk, but I never saw him drink water.

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Little did we know, Calvin's antics stretched beyond just milk. He had an uncanny knack for finding trouble in the most innocent of ways. One summer afternoon, as we played tag in the playground, Calvin appeared on the scene in a brilliant green cape that fluttered behind him like a superhero. "I'm Captain Calcium!" he shouted, brandishing a half-empty can of evaporated milk as his weapon. We couldn't contain our laughter as he zoomed around the playground, challenging anyone to a duel with his "secret weapon."

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After school, Calvin and his friends often transformed an old cardboard box into a makeshift spaceship. They would pretend to zoom off to distant planets, armed with nothing but their imaginations and a few cans of milk. They created elaborate stories about extraterrestrial beings who shared their obsession with canned milk. We would sit listening, captivated by their wild tales as Calvin narrated intricate plots about their adventures. “On planet Calcium, everyone drinks milk, and the rivers flow with chocolate!” he declared dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
 
But there were also quieter moments during those lazy summer evenings.

I remember one time when Calvin came to borrow milk for a baking experiment. “I’m making cookies!” he announced proudly, his hands covered in flour and chocolate chips adorning his cheeks like freckles. That night, he delivered cookies to everyone in the housing projects, claiming it was a peace offering for all the times he raided our milk supplies. They were perhaps the most delicious cookies I had ever tasted, and it was then I realized that Calvin wasn’t just a nuisance; he had a creative streak that brought us together.

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As the years passed and I grew older, Calvin’s capers became fond memories of my childhood.

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I often wonder where Calvin is today and if he still drinks milk. Has he traded in his adventures for a nine-to-five job? Or perhaps he still embraces his inner child, concocting wild stories and sharing cookies while reminiscing about our childhood.
 
Calvin would certainly have been an excellent spokesperson for the “Got Milk?” commercials!

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I was shaken when an old friend from the housing projects told me that Calvin had taken a woman’s life, and now he's serving a life sentence in prison.

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(Copyright © 2025 by Mia Z. Edwards. All rights reserved.)