Gold and Black is a multi-platform media company that covers Purdue athletics like no one else.
Issue link: http://read.uberflip.com/i/200613
and delivered a message. "He told me I was basically the man of the house," Terone Jr. said. "He's like, 'You've got to take care of your little brothers and your mom.' He said, 'You've got to be more responsible.' " They weren't just words to Terone Jr. They were a trigger to change. He found pride in Ronnie and Ty'Riek, who was just a baby at the time, being their example. He found satisfaction in taking the extra weight, knowing it meant lightening hers. He found purpose. "It kind of hit me then," Terone Jr. said of the conversation with his dad. "I had two younger brothers I'm going to have to help along. I had to be an example for them now and also help my mom out because I started feeling super sorry for her because her husband was gone. She had to sleep alone every night. Sometimes, I would sleep with her. I just felt so sorry for her. When she had to get a couple jobs, I had to help her out around the house." As Rona Johnson's load increased, so did her oldest son's. To support the family, Rona worked as many as three jobs at once during the first three years Terone Sr. was gone. She'd get off at 6 a.m. from a night shift, go into another job about an hour later, come home at about 3 p.m. and then get dinner ready. She changed jobs, working some in security, some in restaurants, some in setting up events and functions, some with Residential Services Inc., helping with disabled people, and also housing foster children. With each one Rona took, she was teaching her children work ethic, sacrifice, compassion. But it was hard to miss the toll the added responsibilities were taking on her — even with her mother, Fredonia Williams, there to offer support and help by watching the boys. So Terone Jr. did everything he could to make it better. The older he got, the more he took on. But even in those early years, he was resolute. f And Rona noticed, saying he "stepped up," and that attitude helped the brothers' relationship grow stronger. It gained Terone respect. But not only from his siblings. "He held it down," Terone Sr. said. "He knew the situation. I told him daddy had to go away for awhile, I need you to be strong for your momma and strong for your brothers, and he took it and it made him a better man." Basketball 'savior' Ronnie Johnson doesn't really remember much from before his dad left. He was only 6 then, and the childhood he most vividly recalls is one lived in a world with big brother as role model and mom as a superwoman. Ronnie would tag along with Terone Jr. wherever he'd go, mostly trying to get in on any basketball action. Their dad introduced them to the game and made sure there was a safe place to play in the neighborhood: Their backyard. At the house on 19th and Tibbs on the West side of Indianapolis — where they lived until Ronnie entered sixth grade — Terone Sr. put in a half court with a Go- IllustrateD volume 24, issue 2 29