teacup talks

A 17-year old Army wife gave birth to her second son in Providence, Rhode Island. Growing up in the projects, the boy saw his mother work tirelessly, eventually raising three sons alone. He played in a backyard contaminated with lead and took great care of his teeth since they couldn’t afford the dentist. He walked to the laundromat with his brothers, carrying everything they had because they didn’t have a car, and guarding their clothes so they weren’t stolen off the clothesline.

Despite excelling academically, he couldn’t always deliver the work in the way it was required due to financial circumstances. 

Poor kids don’t have typewriters and computers.

He spent more and more time out of school until, finally, the 16-year-old sophomore stopped going altogether and upgraded from being a dishwasher to a baker at the bakery down the street.

For four more years, the young man worked at that bakery and tried to carve out a spot for himself.

A chance encounter led him to dealing drugs.

Cocaine's allure brought profit and adventure, until a brush with death over a $50 dispute urged him to seek a fresh start.

He headed south.

To Florida.

There, he met the love of his life and enlisted in the Army on the second try. (The first time, he failed the drug test and was turned away.) Became a husband. A dad. Served two tours in Iraq. And then did more time in Hollywood and back to Iraq working for a private contractor, providing security to high-profile individuals, under the call sign TEACUP.

Along the way, though, Teacup’s hearing kept deteriorating. A few doctors and tests later brought his diagnosis:

hydrocephaly and a cavernous malformation in his brain that could bleed out at any moment, ending his life.

He thought long and hard about that. About all he’s survived. About the crazy journey he’s been on. About what he’s learned along the way.

And he decided he wanted to buy a boat.

But he did not want to constantly be paying someone else to come fix it.

So, he enrolled in a marine tech program at a local technical college. There, he walked into a room full of Gen-Z guys just stepping into manhood. Day by day, as they worked on engines, the guys waited for Teacup’s gravelly voice to say, “Listen up, boys.”

And, day after day, they’d tell him he needed to record these conversations.

One of those guys, let’s call him Chip, happened to be the son of a media company owner.  

This is TEACUP TALKS.