We were all damaged.
That’s what drew us together. We
were 14, 15, and 16-years-old. Each of
us had an abusive father who was either an alocholic or just a mean drunk. We saw each others families. We knew each others secrets. We never spoke of them. We didn’t know how to.
We didn’t have an official name like the High Street
Gang. We were the neighborhood juvenile
delinquents. There were three brothers
from one family, two from another, two more from another, and me. That was the core. Other kids came and went. I guess that’s normal. I ran with the High Street Gang for a short
while, but came back to my friends.
We all smoked cigarettes and that was what we mostly did
when we got together. We weren’t allowed
to smoke anywhere openly. We hung out in
Lakeview Park
or at the Zoo, smoked, and talked tough.
Stealing cigarettes was one of our primary activities.
A couple of the brothers got so good at shoplifting that
they started taking orders at school.
You told them what you wanted, they stole it and then sold it to you for
half the retail price. Pants were the
most popular item. I shoplifted, too,
but I was nothing like those guys. I’d
steal a pack of cigarettes. They’d steal
a carton.
Cologne was
another popular item. We stole that for ourselves,
too. Whenever we went to a dance or the
movies or a basketball game or any other activities where girls might be
present, we drowned ourselves in cologne or after shave. I guess we thought that made us more
adult. Three or four of us together
would create quite the aroma.
01/26/2014 ©
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