Strong at the Broken Places

By J. T. James

Raised under modern day Dickinsonian conditions, the author takes you on a tour of life on the streets to the continued misery and pain of combat in Vietnam. These experiences followed by service as a Police Officer, led to multiple failed marriages. A determination to succeed by any means necessary put him on a fast track to the top of the corporate world. But the constant remembrance of all things that he wanted to forget, led him down the Path To Self Destruction.
You will read within these pages how easy it was for him to make mostly bad choices in life and how important it was for him to be Strong at the Broken Places.
J.T. James-Excerpt from Introduction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514470459

J. T. James

J.T. James grew up on the streets of New York. He is a former President of a New York Corporation and currently resides in New Jersey.

Book preview

COPYRIGHT © 2016 BY J.T. JAMES.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/06/2016

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

616501

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

AUTHOR’S NOTE

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

PART TWO

THE BEST-LAID PLANS OF MORONS

PART THREE

THROUGH THESE PORTALS PASS THE WORLD’S FINEST FIGHTING MEN:

UNITED STATES MARINES

PART FOUR

THE THINGS THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF

PART FIVE

P… T… S… D

PATH TO SELF-DESTRUCTION

PART SIX

MOVING AT FLANK SPEED

IN THE FAST LANE TO PERDITION

A NEW BEGINNING

EPILOGUE

INTRODUCTION

The story that you are about to read is about someone’s life. It could easily be about anyone’s life, but this one happens to be about mine. It could just as easily be about yours. In fact, I’m sure that you will find many references or situations that you may have found yourself in from time to time. Hopefully, you made better decisions than I when faced with those situations. For some of you, certain situations may still await you down the road. I hope not for your sake as well as the sake of those who know and love you. But if they do, I hope that you will learn from this and recognize some of the similarities and make better choices than I did.

Perhaps before you read this story, I should try to tell you who I am in a way that you might have some point of personal reference. Hey, if nothing else, you might be able to say to yourself, That sounds like my uncle so-and-so! Wow! What a shit he was, eh?

Anyway, like him, you have heard all the stories and all the whispered rumors, both good and bad; and you pretty much have decided in your own mind who and what he is, right? Well, maybe yes! And in my case, you would most certainly be right. But more likely, in most cases, the real answer is no! Why? That’s simple… It’s because everyone, every living soul, is unique and is faced with various difficulties and problems in their lives. No matter who you are or what your station is in life, you will be faced with many challenges. How you address those challenges and the direction you take at all the forks in the road will determine and present the next and type of problem that you will encounter somewhere else down the line. Ultimately, your decisions and choices will have an effect on yours and the lives of those around you. They will then form their own opinions of you, which they will share with others. You could be considered a hero one day and a bum the next.

At any rate, in the grand scheme of life, it doesn’t matter what people think or say about you so long as you know that you gave life your best shot and tried to do the right thing in all situations that came your way, regardless of the outcome.

Let there be no misunderstanding! You will make mistakes and many bad decisions in your lifetime. No doubt you have made a bunch already. My advice even though you are not asking for it is this: Recognize them, do your best to rectify them, learn from them, try not to repeat them, and move on. Most of all, try not to make the mistakes made by those who came before you. Make your own! Hopefully, they will not be as big or as complex.

Abraham Lincoln once said, If you do not study and learn from history, then what you do in the future may not be worth remembering.

It wasn’t until later on in life that I read, along with that quote, that one of the many things that separate man from animals is our ability to make choices. Animals, so they say, do things on instinct. Man makes choices, both good and bad.

As you will read, I made mostly bad choices. In fact, I once had a wiener dog that was smarter than me and most of my friends! The only thing that makes us better off than that wiener dog is that we have thumbs! On the other hand, he can lick his balls, and he chooses his friends very carefully.

Except for relationships with those few good men with whom I served in the United States Marine Corps, together with a handful of real friends and associates, I made more than my share of mistakes and bad choices. These choices—when combined with my innate stupidity, my tendency to trust others to a fault, and my constant remembrance of past experiences that I have spent a lifetime trying to forget—led me down a path to self-destruction. I hope that you will see and, more importantly, learn how easy it is to spiral out of control and destroy absolutely everything in your life.

Just as important, I hope you realize that to survive the trials, you must always remain

strong at the broken places.

_____________________________________

For my family, children, and grandchildren

and

Leona Bloom, Tubby Baxendale, Dr. Michael Fox, Tom Terne, Tom Zambetaglou, Frank Vincent, Rick Bartholomew, Paul Tigue, Ken Wallace, Paulette Bree, Paul Tigue and so many others who stood by me when everyone else walked away.

I am eternally grateful.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Most of the names of the people depicted in this book have been changed. Every person I have written about is real and is portrayed as I remember them. Many of those I write about during my childhood have since passed away. Sadly, most of them died as a result of something other than natural causes.

The views of those with whom I served with in Vietnam and were fortunate enough to survive that experience may differ from my own. This is not a war novel or a chronological description of any particular operation or battle. The locations are generalizations as we never had a clue as to where we were most of the time. The experiences that I write about here revolve around a handful of us and are more about the day-to-day experiences that we faced as infantry marines over a relatively short period of time, together with certain instances that stand out so clearly and have been seared into my memory. But if you are looking for blood and guts battles, read something else. I have deliberately left many experiences untold as the memory of some things are debilitating. The deplorable and filthy conditions, combined with the misery and pain that we watched unfold before our eyes in the villages and hamlets we encountered, were sometimes more upsetting than the combat situations that could arise at any time and place—and often did. It has been nearly half a century, and like me, I am sure that most of those who survived and are still alive today are still trying to figure out what happened and why.

The pain and anguish of losing friends in war followed by the despicable treatment received upon our return—treatment that drove more than a couple of close friends to suicide—cannot be explained away by anyone, especially me… I’m not that smart. This is my story. Someone else’s might be different.

There are many, many people whose experiences in life were far worse than mine; and as a testament to themselves, they went on to be successful in life, come what may. I wish that I had that type of inner strength. To my great regret, my remembrance of all that is useless and afflictive set me on a different path—one with a determination to put it all behind me and to succeed in life by any means necessary. As you will see, that same determination ultimately led to self-destruction.

Don’t kid yourself into thinking that none of this could ever happen to you.

It would add much to human happiness, if an art could be taught of forgetting all of which the remembrance is at once useless and afflictive, that the mind might perform its functions without encumbrance, and the past might no longer encroach upon the present.

—Samuel Johnson

PROLOGUE

Time had no meaning, and the day of the week didn’t matter. It was all the same, and the only thing I was sure of was that I had absolutely nothing to do. Worse yet, I was most definitely not going anywhere more than one or two steps in any direction at all.

I didn’t feel very chatty; and neither did the two other mugs who, along with me, were shoved into the seven-by-nine-foot shithole decorated with nothing but a stainless steel toilet-and-sink combo. The sign outside the building read Special Housing Unit. I know that’s what it said because I caught a glimpse of it as I shuffled through more security checkpoints than the Pentagon, draped in more chains than the ghost of Jacob Marley when he came back to haunt Scrooge.

How I found my way here is still beyond my ability to comprehend. It certainly wasn’t part of my overall plan on how to succeed in life… Shit! My fucking closet at home was larger than this. There were no windows except for a little one located in the steel door, which also had a slot about knee-high to deliver food and mail.

Stacked along the back wall were three metal bunks with vinyl mattresses as thick as a folded sheet. There were no sheets, no blanket, and no pillows! And I didn’t need a closet anymore! My entire wardrobe consisted of one orange jumpsuit, only one sock, and a pair of blue slip-on sneakers, all of which had been worn by too many others before me. There was no place to sit except the toilet, and there was barely room for all three of us to stand at the same time. One step would take you anywhere in the cell. There was little air, making it noticeably difficult to breathe. What little air there was came from under the door and brought with it the stink of other cells on the block. There was one light, very bright, located in a cage on the ceiling. It was on or off twenty-four hours a day depending on the mood of the guard on duty. All in all? It was a most unpleasant situation.

I sat on the floor, my knees pulled up to my chin in order to keep out of the way of the other two guys. I sat and slept in the same spot nearly twenty-four hours a day, standing only to use the toilet, which, by the way, was what I leaned on when I sat on the floor. It was not good when the other guys had to use the toilet.

I tried really hard to have good thoughts, and occasionally, I did. But mostly, I tried to put it all together to figure out how I got here without dredging up the things that I had spent a lifetime trying to forget. That proved to be impossible, and I failed miserably. I will try to explain.

PART ONE

Mom sat at the kitchen table. That’s where she always sat. I could see her through the window of the kitchen door. It was cold outside on the steps where I was standing. Really cold! Dad had thrown me out earlier that night for some reason or for no reason at all. I’m not really sure. All I know was that I was on the outside looking in, and I was freezing my balls off and really scared, even though I tried to act like it was no big deal.

Mom looked bad. She was frail and looked much older than thirty-five, which she would be in a couple of months. Years of Dad’s drinking and not working, along with worrying about how to feed and clothe her children, had wreaked havoc on her spirit. Far too many tears had fallen from her eyes. This night was not unlike most others. Looking at her, I could see that she had been crying again; and then Dad staggered into the kitchen, drunk as I had ever seen him. I ducked down fast, thinking that he might see me through the window. He didn’t.

When Dad had thrown me out, I really didn’t give a shit. It gave me a reason to hang with my friends on the street. We went downtown to steal cigarettes, but we almost got caught, so we just picked up some clippies from the gutter and smoked them. But that was hours ago, and all my friends had gone home. After they left, I decided to spend the night at our hideout. On the way, I stole a pint of milk and a tasty cheese bun from the A&A Deli on Montauk Road near the Narragansett Inn. That’s where the guys and I would hang out when we skipped school, which was two or three times a week! We hung out in the garage. We smoked and just fucked around in general. We didn’t break into any cars, though! That would bring the coppers around, blowing our cover, although sometimes it was very tempting. People left everything in their cars. Eventually, we built a hideout across town, and then we went back and broke into just about every car in the joint at least once and some of them two and three times. Some people never learn.

Even with a belly full of milk and a cheese bun, it was too cold to stay in the hideout. It was a little spooky too! It must have been close to 1:00 a.m. when I decided it would be safe to go home.

It was really cold as I stood on the steps, looking in and waiting for them to go to bed or for Dad to pass out somewhere. There was no heat in the house except from the kitchen stove, but it was still better than being outside. Mom would have let me sneak back in whenever I wanted, but I didn’t want her to worry about the old man seeing me and starting up.

I stood there watching as Dad tried to grab one of Mom’s breasts from behind. I wanted to puke—for lots of reasons! Mom let out a cry, and I was through the door before I realized what I was doing. When he saw me, he was startled but flew into a rage. I’ll KILL YA, YA LITTLE FUCKER! GET OUT OF THIS FUCKEN HOUSE OR I’LL . . . He lunged for me but stumbled and fell. He got up awful quick, a lot quicker than I would have thought. I was scared shitless and was fumbling with the doorknob when he grabbed a knife and threw it at me. Lucky for me, it was a butter knife! Luckier still, it hit the doorjamb instead of me. I was out the door and down the steps when I heard my mother screaming at the top of her lungs, LEAVE THE BOY ALONE, YA SON OF A BITCH! HE’S ONLY TWELVE YEARS OLD, YA DIRTY BASTED! YOU GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE, OR I’LL CALL THE COPS ON YA!

I ran around to the side of the house and hid behind in a bush. I could hear them screaming at each other but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was better than an hour that I waited before I decided that the old man had passed out somewhere. I peeked in the window and saw Mom asleep at the table, her head resting on her arms. Kathy, Louise, Lorraine, and the baby, Dennis, were asleep on the floor. They were all huddled together under a threadbare blanket in front of the stove for warmth. I hoped that they didn’t witness what had happened.

Mom had lit the stove to take the chill off the room. But it had gotten much colder during the night. Even with the stove lit, it was still cold and damp in the kitchen. I tried to sneak in quietly, but I startled Mom when I opened the door. Ahh, Johnny I’m so sorry, son… Where’ve ya been? I’ve been worried sick… Look at ya. Ya must be chilled to the bone… You’ll catch yer death of—

I interrupted her and whispered, I’m okay, Mom, I’m okay! It’s you I’m worried about.

I’m okay, son, but… She paused for a few seconds and said, I’m okay, but I don’t know what to do anymore, and I’m having another baby! She put her hands over her face and sobbed like nothing I had ever heard. Oh, Lord in heaven, please help us! She put her hands together and clenched them together on the table. Turning to me, she said, I’m worried, son… I don’t know how I can do this! I can’t even feed you kids proper… How can I take care of another? The welfare won’t give us any more money, and they’re threaten’en to throw us to the street for the rent.

I didn’t know what to say. I just looked at her for a moment or two and then lay down on the floor. I listened to her sob and swallowed my own tears. After a few minutes, Mom fell asleep again at the table, and then all I could hear was the sound of Louise sucking hard on her thumb. It was all red and raw. I knew that because I had seen it earlier. I wished I had taken enough milk and buns from the A&A to bring home. I didn’t.

The next morning, after about two hours of sleep, I was up. Mom was already up, and I wondered if she had slept at all. She had prepared some welfare bacon and eggs, as she liked to call it. She tried to make light of it and pretend that she was in a great mood. But even at twelve, I knew that the situation was killing her. What she really made was a pot of quick oats that was almost like Quaker Oats except the box wasn’t round. All it said was OATS, and they had to boil for a long time before they were edible.

Eat some oatmeal before ya leave, John… SAINTS, PRESERVE US! YER ALL SKIN AND BONE! she said. I’m sorry, there isn’t any milk and sugar to put on it. God willing, maybe there’ll be some next week.

It’s okay, Mom! I like it this way! I lied. I had to prove it by choking down a few spoonfuls while she watched.

I kissed Mom on the cheek, tweaked Kathy until she squealed, and ran out the door.

HAVE A GOOD DAY AT SCHOOL! Mom yelled as the door closed behind me.

OKAY, MOM! I WILL.

Hey, I said to myself, it’s Friday! YIPPEEE! I had no idea why it made me feel happy! Friday was just like any other day as far as I was concerned. Whenever you meet people on Friday, they’re always happy and saying, YEAAH! IT’S FRIDAY AT LAST! Or something like that. Shit! What’s the dif?

I met up with my pals up the street at the corner of Hamilton and Kramer Avenues. That’s where we caught the school bus or not, depending on our mood; a lot of the time, it was not! The school did have a truant officer, but he was just an old stewbum who couldn’t find his own pecker. Everybody knew who he was. And with that big red nose of his, you could see him from two blocks away. Most of the parents and the teachers called him Old Gimlet Eyes. We called him the douche bag.

Louie the Tooth was already at the bus stop when I got there. He was smoking a good-sized clippy, which he said he found in front of the clinic over on Hoffman Avenue. We called him the Tooth because he was missing one of his upper front teeth. He said his old man knocked it out for boosting a pint of his Scotch. But word was that his little sister hit him in the jibs when she caught him trying on a pair of her panties! Anyway, it was a permanent one, and it would never grow back.

What’s up, Louie? How’s it going, kiddo?

Aah, not too much. But I did catch my pop porking my mom last night, out in the garage! Well, anyway, I think it was my mom! He caught me looking, and he damn near kilt me when he finished. Look at dis… He showed me a big red welt on the back of his calf.

WOW! I said. That looks more like you might have caught him porking Ray’s mom.

Yeah, maybe it was. She was bent over the hood of the car and I didn’t see anything but her big fat ass but, my leg hurts like a motherfucker ! We cracked up and were just about rolling on the ground when Ray showed up.

What’s so fucken funny? Ray asked.

Aah, nothin’, man. We were just horsing around. What are we gonna do today? asked Louie.

I don’t know, I said. Mrs. Kuhlman is out to get me. She gave me a ton of homework. I was thinken about doing it, but my old man got all liquored up and started a shitstorm, and that put the kibosh on that. Know what I mean?

Yeah, I know, Ray said. Hey, Johnny! My mom saw you peeken in your own window real late last night. Said she was gonna call the coppers on you but decided not to. ‘Poor kids!’ she said. ‘They shouldn’t have to live like that,’ she says.

OH YEAH! Well, what’s your mom doin’ nosing around at that time of night? Louie and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh. Tell your mom to sit on a big one! We’re doin’ swell. The old man said he got a job starting sometime next week, tenden bar down at the Narragansett. Things are gonna be great, you’ll see! Then you can all kiss my ass.

Here comes the cheese wagon! Louie said. The bus stopped, and the door opened. We looked at one another, shrugged our shoulders, and walked away. As the bus was pulling away, Louie turned and shook his pecker at some of the girls sitting by the windows on the bus. One of the girls stuck her head out of the window and yelled, YOU’RE A DISGUSTING LITTLE PIG, LOUIS KLISS! I HOPE THAT LITTLE WINKIE OF YOURS FALLS OFF, AND A CAT EATS IT! Everybody on the bus cracked up. So did Ray and I. Louie didn’t. Someone else yelled, I’m telling your mom! And then I’m gonna tell all the girls in school that you got an EENIE LITTLE WEENIE!

Ohhh yeah! Well, you… Ahh, shut up! Louie said.

Great comeback, Louie, said Ray, and we cracked up some more.

We headed down the street, laughing and scratching all the way to the park on Wellwood Avenue just past Green Street near the firehouse. There was nobody at the park, so we drifted up Grant Avenue, covering both sides of the street as we looked for a few decent clippies. It hadn’t rained in a few days, and Grant is a pretty busy street, so we figured we could find some good ones. Every once in a while, we would find a whole one. They were the ones that people would toss after trying to light the filter.

LUCKY STRIKE! I yelled and punched Louie good and hard in the arm after stepping on an empty pack. That was the rule. If you see an empty pack of Luckys and step on it first, you get to punch the person closest to you. If you punch first and then step on it? The person you punch on the arm gets to lay one on your beak! Louie let out a groan, but he took it like a man.

Not your day, eh, Louie?

Fuck you!

We each found about ten good clippies and turned up Wellwood, heading for town. Just as we got near the center of town, near Windishes Ice Cream Parlor, Ray yelled OH SHIT, CHEESE IT! IT’S THE DOUCHE BAG!

We scrambled into Windishes just in the nick of time and ducked down behind a booth. We peered over the top so we could see out of the big front window to be sure that the old douche bag didn’t see us. The window had a sign painted on it, and we could see between the letters. It said Windishes Ice Cream Parlor.

Hey, I said, where’d they come up with a fucking name like Windishes?

Ray was starting to answer me, but he said, HEY HEY HEY! Look at the old douche bag! Hoooooly SHIT! That guy is fucking BOMBED

WOW-E-WOW WOW! I said. He’s fucked up, but good!

YEAH! said Louie He’s walking like he’s climbin’ stairs! And get a load of his friggin’ nose! Looks like it’s on fire! We all had a good hoot watching the old douche bag climb his way down the street.

Hey, you kids! What are you doing over there? We turned to see the soda jerk. He was a tall, skinny doofus with a face full of pimples. He was wearing a white paper hat, a white shirt, white pants, and a white apron. I could almost see the pimples popping on his face.

Nothin’ . . . Why? we all said, one at a time just to bust balls.

Well, you can’t hang out in here, that’s why.

Saaays who, ya jit bag?

Says me, that’s who! I’m the assistant counter manager, and I say that you either buy something or you leave. Hey, ain’t you kids supposed to be in school?

Aaaah shaaadap! Ray said.

Yeah! said Louie.

Yeah! Get back in the friggin’ kitchen where ya belong, ya mutt! Go pop some friggin’ pimples, I said.

Yeah! said Louie again.

That’s really good, Louie. You really told him!

Why, you little shits. I’ll…

He started to come from behind the counter, so we skedaddled out the door and ran down Wellwood Avenue and headed back to the park. Just in case someone was following us, Ray said we should take a different route to the park. He said he learned it on TV. So instead of running a block to the park, we ran up Green Street, turned left on Texas Avenue, another left on North Hamilton, another left past the lumberyard, and another left on Houston to Wellwood—right where we started.

Nice going, Ray!

Shut up.

We walked down Wellwood to the park. No one was around, so we smoked all our clippies and threw rocks at some ducks in the pond and then a couple at a passing car. We didn’t hit the car, but it’s not because we didn’t try. After a while, we decided it was time to head for our hideout. It was in the lumberyard that we ran past a little while ago on North Hamilton. The old douche bag might catch us if we hung out in the park too long.

Ray said, I think we should take a different—

Shut the fuck up, Ray! You’re just tryin’ to rub it in that you got a TV and we don’t.

We walked back up Wellwood. As we passed the firehouse, I saw a big sign on the sidewalk that must have been new because I never saw it before. The sign had a picture of a marine in a dress blue uniform. Under the picture, it said ENLIST HERE, with an arrow pointing to the firehouse. I looked around. Looks like a firehouse! I thought. I looked upstairs, and I saw a marine emblem in the window.

You guys head to the hideout, I said. I want to check and see if my old man is in the firehouse.

Louie and Ray just shrugged and kept walking. I waited until they were out of sight and then slipped in the side door from an alley next to the firehouse.

I followed the arrows leading to the second floor. The sign on the door said United States Marine Corps Recruiting Office. Under that, it said Please come in. Above the door was another sign. It was red with gold letters and read TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. I didn’t get it!

I looked in through the window. Inside was a gray metal desk, a filing cabinet, and a couple of chairs. A marine was sitting in one of the chairs, behind the desk. He was wearing a green uniform and had a chest full of medals. Maybe this ain’t the place, I was thinking. The sign has a guy in a blue uniform!

When the marine saw me looking through the window, he waved me in. Can I help you, sonny? he asked.

My knees were knocking, and I was ready to piss in my pants, but I finally got the nerve to say, Ahhh, yes, sir, Mr. Colonel… sir! He just looked at me with his mouth slightly open. I was just wondering, Your Colonelness, sir, how old do you have to be to join the marines.

Well, son, first of all, I’m a sergeant, not a colonel. And right now, we would prefer that you be at least eighteen years old to join.

I looked around the room and saw a lot of posters on the walls. All of them were of marines in battle.

Oh, can’t somebody be just a little younger than that?

Well, sometimes you can if you have your parents’ permission. Do you know someone under eighteen who wants to join?

Ahh, yes, sir, I do.

Okay, who?

Why, me, Sergeant, sir. Who else?

The sergeant stood up from behind his desk. He was as big as a grizzly bear, a really big grizzly bear!"

I thought to myself, Did I just poop in my pants?

He smiled at me. How old are you, son?

I’m twelve going on thirteen, and you said that someone can join under eighteen if you have your mom’s permission or something like that!

That’s right! But you have to be at least seventeen! You’re a little shy of seventeen! Have a seat here at my desk for a minute and tell me why you want to join the marines. I started for the one chair that looked comfy, and the sergeant said, Not behind the desk, son. That’s where I sit. You sit in that one. He pointed to a gray metal folding chair in front of the desk. He sat down behind his desk, crossed his legs, folded his arms, and leaned back.

After wiping the smile off his face, he said, So you want to be a marine, eh! Tell me why you want to join my beloved corps.

I didn’t know what he meant by beloved corps, but I didn’t ask. Well, I… uuhhh… I thought that maybe I could join the marines so that I could help my mom and the other kids. Ya know what I mean?

Really, why’s that?

Shifting around in the chair a little and trying to look tough and cocky, I gave a little wave of my hand and said, Ahhh, the oil heater is out of oil, and Mom’s always crying and praying to Saints Preserve Us or something like that, and the kids could use a few things. And well, I just figured—

The sergeant held up a hand to stop me from talking. He uncrossed his legs and placed his elbows on the desk. He covered his face with his hands for a second, and then after running a hand through his hair, he asked, You have brothers and sisters? How many?

Four, I said. There’s Kathy, Louise, Lorraine, and my brother, Denny. He’s two years old going on three.

Do you have a dad?

Oh, yes! He’s a great guy! He’s really funny! Well, sometimes he is.

What do you mean by ‘sometimes’?

Well, my pop don’t have a job, and he drinks the devil’s brew—that’s what Mom calls it. It makes him really mean to Mom and stuff like that. Mom is always crying. She’s having another baby, ya know.

No, I didn’t know.

Yeah, and she’s always praying to the saints and yelling at Pop to do something so the kids can have something to eat and warm coats and shoes and stuff. I tell Mom that it’s okay and that I will get a job somewhere and help her. When I do that, she tells me to shut up and go outside… Now Denny! Like I told you, he’s my little brother. He’s always crying. Mom says it’s because he’s a baby, and he’s always hungry. She gives him bottles of milk that she makes from the powder that she gets from the welfare. And sometimes, if she has any, she puts a little sugar in it. If he still cries, she starts to cry too.

By the way, it’s awful cold out there today. Where is your coat? the sergeant questioned.

Oh, it’s too small, but this sweater here is pretty good! I like the black and white stripes. It used to be Mom’s, but she gave it to me. I smiled up at the sergeant. He just sat there with his elbows on the desk. He held his head in his hands and stared at the top of his desk.

Lose something? I asked. Because if you did, it’s not on your desk! There’s nothin’ on your desk except your elbows.

No, he said and sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and smiled.

I sat there for a little while and looked around the office at all the different posters hanging on the walls, and neither one of us said a word. It was so quiet I could hear the traffic going up and down Wellwood Avenue, including a couple of cheese wagons headed for school.

Well, anyway, I just thought that maybe I could join the marines so that I could help out Mom and the kids. And besides that, I always wanted to join the marines when I grew up.

Oh yeah?

Yeah, my uncle Joey was in the marines. Did you know that?

No, I didn’t.

Ohh. Yeah, sure! He was in World War II! He calls it the Big One.

Oh, does he?

Yup! My dad was in the Big One too. He was in the navy, not the marines. And my other uncle, Frankie, was in the army. They’re all brothers, ya know?

Oh?

Yep! Joey, Frankie, and my pop. Only my uncles Joey and Frankie got shot. Pop was in the navy. He didn’t get shot. Mom said that’s because most of the time he wasn’t on a ship! He was floaten on the ocean on a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey and had the cork shoved up his ass to keep from sinkin’. She always has a good laugh over that one. I like to see her laugh.

Well, kid, you seem to be bright. How old did you say you are?

I’m twelve going on thirteen. I guess I have to wait a couple of years to join the marines, eh?

The smile left his face, and he leaned forward across the desk to look me straight in the eye to say, I wish I could help you, but the best thing you can do right now is stay in school and learn everything that you can. He looked at his watch and said, In fact, you should be in school right now! How about I give them a call and then I will drive you over there?

Naaah, that’s okay, I said as I stood and headed for the door as fast as I could.

When I was out in front of the firehouse, I stopped and looked up to see the sergeant looking down from his window.

I’ll be back someday! I yelled up to him and waved.

He waved back, and I took off running down Wellwood Avenue. I turned left on Hamilton, cut in between two houses, and climbed a fence to the lumberyard. I slid in between two stacks of wood shingles that we had used to build our hideout. It was a pretty neat place. We had chairs and candles, and the best part was that from the outside, nobody could tell that we had hollowed out the inside of the piles. Not the douche bag! Not anyone! Perfect!

What the fuck took you so long? Ray asked.

Nothen. Why?

Ya musta been doin’ something!

Oh yeah! I ran into your sister, and she wanted me to pork her for a while.

WHAT? Hey, fuck you, man!

Dats right. We went to your house, and I porked her good—on your bed!

HEEEEY! Don’t even kid around like that shit!

Sooooo, I said, here we are! What are we gonna do today?

Louie was cracking up over me porking Ray’s sister, so Ray said, Well, me and laughing boy over there was thinkin’ that if that fat-ass Jackie and Paulie Boy show up, maybe we could jump the train into the city.

What are we gonna do when we get there? What if we get caught?

How da fuck do I know? It’s just a friggin’ idea. Who da fuck knows? We’ll woik it out! Ray always went heavy on the slang to make everyone think he was a tough guy.

Sounds like a good idea to me! Louie said. Anybody got any scratch? All I got is fifteen friggen cents.

I ain’t got a plug nickel, I said.

I’m busted too! Ray said. But maybe we could pop a couple of parking meters down at the station. It would be boss if we could get our paws on a buck or two for smokes and shit!

Yeah! Louie said. If we make it to New York, we gotta have our own smokes so that we look like we belong there, ya know? Can’t be walkin’ round the city pickin’ up clippies, ya know? Where are the screwdrivers?

Over here, I said, pointing to an old milk crate where we kept all our important stuff. This consisted of two screwdrivers, a broken pair of pliers, an old thermos bottle without a top, a broken transistor radio, a Duncan yo-yo without a string, and a coffee can where we kept extra clippies. The can was presently empty.

Fat Ass and Paulie Boy sauntered in like they lived there. I hadn’t seen these two mutts in a few days or more. Fat Ass lived over on High Street with his mother and sister. We called her Hot Box. So did Fat Ass! He was in the same grade as the rest of us. We called him Fat Ass most of the time because his ass was as big as a Studebaker. He was already fourteen, but he got left back in school a couple of times, and that’s why he was in the same grade as the rest of us. He’s really big and strong too. But he can’t fight worth a shit. Every one of us has kicked his ass at one time or another.

Paulie Boy lived on Sixth Street, just off Hoffman Avenue with his grandfather and an older brother who was always breaking his balls and stealing his smokes. Paulie didn’t hang out with us that much. He mostly hung with a different bunch of mutts from across town. He was more than a little strange and never talked much about anything. He mostly nodded his head or shrugged his shoulders. We all knew there was something going on between him and Hot Box, but we never said anything because Fat Ass would kill him if he found out. Or at least try to anyway.

After we broke one another’s balls for a while and smoked a couple of our clippies, we all headed for the parking lot at the train station. But to keep Ray happy, we headed to the parking lot in different directions. That way, no one would really take notice of us. Actually, it was a pretty good idea considering that it came from a twelve-year-old.

Fat Ass was the biggest and the strongest, so while the rest of us kept a lookout for the coppers from different areas around the lot, Fat Ass went through the lot and popped the parking meters with a screwdriver. Parking meters are hard to open, but Fat Ass was poppin’ ’em like a pro!

Man, that fat-assed fucker is good! I was thinking. He could get into a meter in three seconds flat! It would take me a good five minutes. Speed was what you needed to avoid getting caught. WOW! If I could do that, I would hit this place every day! With that kind of scratch, I could buy plenty of milk and bread and maybe eggs or something to bring home.

I really believed that by stealing and scheming and not going to school and staying away from home as much as I could that I was somehow making life easier for Mom and the kids. What an asshole I am.

Let’s get the fuck outta here! Fat Ass said. I got about eight bucks!

Holy shit! That’s alotta scratch! Louie said.

Not bad. I’ll go get the tickets, and I’ll meet you guys up on the platform. Fat Ass said.

He disappeared into the station, and we headed for the platform.

What’s he mean ‘platform’? Louie asked.

That’s where the train stops, ya dickhead! Man, you don’t know shit, do ya? Ray said.

Hey, piss off! Who you callin’ a dickhead?

Shut yer yaps, the two of you, and keep moving! I said. People are gonna hear you mugs, and then we’ll be in the fuckin’ jackpot.

Well, he started it!

Did not!

Shut yer friggin’ yaps! I said.

We milled around on the platform for a couple of minutes while we waited for Fat Ass. Nobody said anything, but we were all thinking that maybe that fat fuck was gonna leave us there with our thumbs in our asses. As the train was pulling into the station, he finally came lumbering up the stairs with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He flashed a brand-new pack of butts at us, and then we all had shit-eating grins.

As the train was pulling out of the station, I said, Maybe you should give us our own ticket, just in case we have to split up.

I couldn’t get ’em!

Uh-oh! Why not?

Fuckin’ ticket guy wanted to know why I was usin’ dimes and nickels and said I need to have an adult with me. I told him to go pick his ass! The old coot! He was goin’ for the phone to call the bulls, so I took off… Fuck ’em!

Ooooh, that’s great! That’s just fuckin’ perfect! Ray said. Nice goin’, Fat Ass! Don’t you know what they can do to us for train jumping? I heard that they can put us in the Elmira pen! We’ll be bustin’ rocks and gettin’ it up the ass for twenty friggin’ years!

Ahhh, you been pullin’ too hard on that little weenie of yours! Paulie piped in. They don’t send you to Elmira! They send you to someplace called Camp Buttercup or somethin’ like that. I heard it’s an army place. That could be pretty boss, don’t ya think?

Ya know what, Paulie? I said. Now I know why you don’t talk so much! You’re a fuckin’ moron!

So where we gonna go when we get to the city? Fat Ass asked while he rubbed his hands together with excitement.

We sat in the last car of the train because Fat Ass said it would be the last place that the train guy would be collecting tickets. And maybe we won’t have to jump off the train at fifty miles an hour to keep from getting locked up!

I don’t know why, but the train guy never came into the car, and we made it all the way to the city.

Well, here we are, boys! Fat Ass said as he opened the pack of butts and passed them around. Whatcha wanna do? We had blank stares, and no one had any idea where we were, let alone where to go or what to do.

I heard my brother talkin’ about some place called Greenwich Village or something like that, Ray said. He was tellin’ his friend that it was a boss place, filled with beatniks and dolls.

Oh yeah! I hoid a dat place! Louie said.

Shut da fuck up, Louie! You ain’t heard of shit.

You shut da fuck up!

Stop it, I said. Don’t you two start up again, please.

Well, he started it! Louie said.

Did not!

Shit, I know where that place is, Fat Ass said. I’ve been there a couple of times. So off we went, with the dumb fuck in the lead. We walked, we walked, and we walked some more. We spent the time smokin’ and jokin’ until we were all out of cigarettes. We followed Fat Ass up one street and down the other.

At some point, just about the time that our legs were going to fall off, Louie said, Hey, look at that! There goes another one of those Macy’s and Gimble’s places. Look! They’re right across the street from each other, just like the ones at the train! Uh-oh!

Ray said, YOU FRIGGIN’ FAT-ASSED MORON! WE BEEN WALKIN’ FOR FRIGGIN’ HOURS! AND WE’RE RIGHT WHERE WE STARTED? WHAT DA FUCK?

I guess we passed it. Sorry!

We had a pretty good laugh about it, and Fat Ass made up for it by buying us each a cheeseburger and french fries at the train station, along with three for himself. He left us for a few minutes, and we were a little nervous about it. We were a long way from home, and though we tried to act older, we were nothing but three little shits in a place that we knew nothing about.

I got tickets, he said when he came back, and that relieved the tension that was building. Suddenly, we were tough and cocky again.

How ’bout smokes? Did you get any more? Ray asked.

Abso-fuckin’-lutely, here ya go! And as he passed the pack around, he said, Let’s go! We gotta catch our train.

We followed behind him like three little kids following their mother. Very pathetic!

The train was very crowded with men and women, mostly men, coming home from work in the city. I had caught myself staring at some of them. They were dressed in fine clothes and suits with really nice and warm overcoats. Some of the men wore fedoras tilted slightly to one side and carried briefcases that bulged with important papers. Some of them smoked cigars. Others smoked a pipe or cigarettes. The women were dressed nice too, except they wore dresses and didn’t smoke cigars or pipes. A few times, one of the men or women would catch me staring, and they looked back at me with more than a little disgust. I never had the feeling before, but suddenly, I felt a little bit jealous. I just turned away and looked out the window at the scenery as the train moved along the track. Since it was dark outside and the lights were on inside the train, I could see my reflection in the window. I didn’t like what I saw, and I didn’t know what to do to change anything.

The train pulled into our station at about 6:30 p.m. It was cold, and it felt like it was going to snow, but all the stars were out, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that.

Well, I’ll see you guys later, Fat Ass said as he turned and walked off.

Yeah, see ya later, Fat Ass! Say hi to Hot Box for me! Louie said. Jackie just turned and flipped him the bird and continued on.

What do you guys wanna do now? I said. Ya wanna go over to the A&A and boost a pack of butts?

Naaah! Ray said. It’s dinnertime, and I’m hungry. My mom will be wondering where I am and why I didn’t come straight home from school. I hafta think of somethin’ on the way. I’ll catch ya tomorrow.

Louie and Paulie went home too, and now I was all alone in the train station except for a guy we called Jack the Bum, who was sleeping off a snootful over on the bench near the ticket counter. The ticket agent was sitting behind the counter, eating a sandwich and sipping coffee or tea from a thermos while reading a newspaper that was spread out on the counter. He didn’t seem to be bothered by Jack the Bum snoring his ass off. I walked through the station toward the exit and waved to the ticket agent as I passed. He stopped chewing his sandwich and glanced at me over the top of his reading glasses, but he didn’t wave back. I could feel his eyeballs on me as I exited the station. I guess he was watching to make sure I didn’t boost anything on my way out. I’m sure I would have if there was anything to boost!

It was cold outside, really cold, and my sweater was not enough. I stood on the sidewalk in front of the station and looked up and down Hoffman Avenue while I tried to decide what to do and hoping I would see one of my friends, but I knew that I wouldn’t see any of them. It was too late for any of them to be out, especially on a school night.

I was afraid to go home. I didn’t want to go home. Not my home, anyway! I started walking down Hoffman and then down Wellwood. I still had not decided what to do or where to go when I found myself in front of the A&A Deli on Montauk Road. Inside, I could see people in front of the deli counter placing orders and chatting with the butcher about their order. The butcher nodded his head in agreement and reached for a slab of roast beef, which he sliced and wrapped in clean white butcher paper before he handed it to the customer with a big smile. I could see a hint of the juice from the beef seeping through the paper. It’s not polite to stare, I remembered Mom telling me one time when I walked with her on her monthly trek to the relief office for two quarts of milk and a box of cheese. On the box of cheese was written in big block letters CHEESE-SURPLUS-NOT FOR RETAIL SALE. Not surprisingly, it always caused Mom to cry when she made that trip.

Sometimes she would send me and Kathy to get the milk and cheese. We stood in line with other mothers, but we never knew any of them. I had a habit of telling the women in front and back of us that we’re just picking this stuff up for Mrs. O’Leary. She’s too old and sick to come here herself! She gives us a piece of candy for helping her. We ourselves don’t need the relief! In fact, we’re gonna have eggs with some nice bacon and toast when we get home. And tomorrow we’re having meat loaf! Mom said that if we are good, we could have ice cream after supper!

Ahhh, ya don’t say! Well, LA-DI-DA! one of the ladies said. Well, we are in the presence of royalty now, ain’t we, girls? They would all have a good laugh, and Kathy always kicked me or pinched me—sometimes both—for doing that.

The wind was picking up, and that made it even colder. I stood there looking in the window for a few more minutes. I wished that I could just walk right in there and buy whatever I wanted and take it home to Mom and the kids. Ahh, yes, ahh, could I please have a pound of this and a pound of that? Ohh no! Could you please slice it a little thicker? Thank you. I knew that I didn’t have any money, but I reached into my pocket just to be sure. I was right. Damn! Sometimes I hate it when I’m right. I walked away.

I went in through the front door, and it was almost as cold in the house as it was outside without the wind. I went into the kitchen. Mom was in her usual place at the table. Two candles flickered away on the table, which were the only source of light since the electricity had been turned off just before Christmas past. All the kids were sitting around the table except Dennis. He was curled up on the floor in front of the stove. He had a bottle full of powdered milk in a death grip and was sucking away at it. Mrs. Riley from around the corner had sent over a box of powdered milk and a box of cornflakes. Mom had put the kettle to boil on the stove, and we all had some cornflakes with hot milk. There was just enough for everybody to have some. No one asked for seconds. They knew better than that. But Dennis started to cry, so Mom gave her bowl to him. I should have given mine to him. I didn’t. I was too selfish, and I should have known better. After all, I had already had a burger and fries that day! What a fucking asshole I was!

I didn’t have to ask where Pop was. I could hear him snoring in the back room, and there was the smell of vodka in the air. They say that you can’t smell vodka, but I can smell it a mile away. It smells like wet cardboard and probably tastes like it too. The smell always made me queasy. The louder he snored, the bigger the snootful! I learned that early on, and I could tell from the volume that this one was a doozy! I looked in the direction of the back room and back at Mom. Is Pop still starting his new job soon, Mom? I asked.

Shaddup! It’s none of your bloody business, and if ya ask me again, I’ll take the belt to ya… Ya hear? She had a real angry look on her face, but I knew that she didn’t mean it. I just looked at her, and then she just grabbed me up and started to cry again. We all put our arms around her to help calm her. We didn’t cry. We were used to it, if that’s possible. Dennis thought it was funny and started laughing. That was actually good because we were beginning to think that he might have something wrong with him, not that he had much to laugh about.

I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry, kids! I don’t know what came over me. I’m just at me wits’ end. Saints, preserve us! Please forgive me!

It’s okay, Mom. Don’t cry. It’s okay, we were all saying, except for Dennis, who kept laughing.

I really had no idea whatsoever of what to do. The snoring, the sickening smell of wet cardboard, Mom’s crying, and the sight of the kids trying to stay warm in a house without food and heat or electricity were beyond my ability to comprehend; and I just wanted to get away. Out of selfishness and stupidity, I convinced myself that if I were to leave, I would somehow be helping the situation. This was yet another example of why I can be considered an asshole by all.

The candles were nearly gone, and only a little light was coming from the stove. But Mom only lit the stove for a few minutes every hour or so to take the chill off the room. If she kept it on, the gas company would be shutting it off in no time. Mom had hung a sheet over the doorway to the kitchen to keep the warm air inside as long as possible. I guess it helped, but I doubt it since you could still see your breath in the air. She asked if I would go next door and see if one of the neighbors could spare a candle or two since they don’t really need them.

It was a typical sight as I was slipping out the door. The kids were wrapped in their clothes and coats and whatever else they could use to stay warm, and Mom sat at the table with her head in her hands, worrying about what to do and how she would feed the kids tomorrow. She would worry herself to sleep. She didn’t know that her asshole son had no intention of returning with the candles. Instead, I went straight to our hideout so that I didn’t have to look at Mom suffering to the saints and crying anymore.

It was pitch-black and cold as stone inside our hideout. I felt my way around and found our candles and lit them all, and then I nestled with my back in a corner so that I could see who might be coming in before they or it saw me. I wasn’t really convinced that there is no such thing as the bogeyman. The flickering candles created eerie shadows on the walls, and I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. I knew that the candles weren’t going to last forever, and I didn’t want to be sitting there in the pitch black, waiting for something to eat me. But the harder I tried to sleep, the more impossible it became. No matter the pleasant things I tried to think of, my thoughts kept returning to Mom.

Mom was born in a town just outside of Seattle, Washington. She was the youngest of four. In 1934, at the age of six, my mom saw her mother die of influenza; and the family moved to Brooklyn, New York. Following the move, my grandfather became very sullen and withdrawn over the death of my grandmother. Mom had to depend on her older brother, which meant that she basically had to care for herself. She had two older sisters, who were far too self-absorbed and considered Mom to be a nuisance. Compared with many of the Depression era, Mom said that, overall, life was pretty good for them and that they never went hungry. She said that Grandpa was a very smart man, who worked all through the Depression as a chemist in the glass industry. She told me that he worked all the time and was rarely home. She said that when he was at home, he really didn’t say much about anything. He spent his time sitting in his favorite chair and stared out of the window onto Eighty-Second Street, just off Fifth Avenue, as if he were expecting to see Grandma coming home.

Mom, when she spoke of them, always praised her sisters and her brother. She would go on and on