MEMORIES

AUNT ROSIE AND UNCLE AL

I turned thirteen just a couple of weeks after I moved to California. Talk about culture shock. Everything was different than what I was used to. The weather was something it didn't take me long to get used to though. I hated winter time in New York. It seemed amazing to live somewhere where it never snowed. Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al lived in a three-bedroom ranch style house in a middle class neighborhood that seemed downright boring to me. I missed my friends, I missed Ma, I missed my old life. Heck, I even missed Nicky even though I hadn't spent a lot of time with him since Pop died.

Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al went out of their way to make me feel welcome but I fought them every step of the way. They were both a lot older than Ma and Pop and had already raised two sons that were both in College by the time I arrived. It didn't take me long to discover that Uncle Al lived by the motto 'spare the rod and spoil the child' and it didn't take me long to be re-acquainted with the belt. I also got my mouth washed out more than once with soap when I used some of the language I used with my friends back home.

I know there are a lot of people now days who don't believe in whipping their kids, especially with a belt, but that was the way kids were disciplined back then and it didn't hurt me none in the long run. The most whacks I ever got at one time was six and that was when I was fifteen and got caught drinking and driving. (I also ran Aunt Rosie's car into the side of the garage)

I wish I could tell you that I straightened up when I came to California but that would be a lie. I was still too full of anger and now I felt abandoned by Ma on top of everything else. So Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al had their hands full too. But there were two of them and they were better equipped to handle me than Ma was. But I still seemed to be pretty adapt at seeking out the other kids like me to hang out with and started getting in trouble again.

And I absolutely hated school. Because I had cut so much school back home, I was way behind the rest of my classmates, which made it harder for me to keep up with the work. Plus, I was singled out for ridicule because of my heavy Brooklyn accent and the chip on my shoulder. So fights at school became pretty common. I wasn't very big for my age but I fought dirty and I could hold my own with the best of them. It was in school that I also first encountered scorn and prejudice because I was Jewish. That just gave me another reason to fight.

It was at Aunt Rosie's and Uncle Al's that I celebrated Christmas for the first time. Rosie was raised Jewish and Uncle Al was raised Catholic. So when they got married, Aunt Rosie converted and became a Gentile which meant they celebrated Christmas instead of Hanukkah. To this day, as an adult, I still celebrate both holidays.

Since Aunt Rosie was no longer practicing Judaism, that's where I started to slip away from the teaching of my faith, although I hadn't gone to temple since Pop died. Since I've gotten older I have resumed some of the teachings, such as observing Hanukkah and some of the other holy days, even though I still don't go to Temple.

When I was fourteen, I got into trouble with another kid for getting caught riding around in a stolen car. I didn't steal it, he did but I was still with him when he got caught.

And the cops here weren't as understanding or sympathetic as they were back home. Out here, I wasn't Micheal Starsky's kid, little Davey Starsky. I was just another snot nosed little punk with a bad attitude. But I lucked out again. Somebody must have been watching out for me. Since it was my first offense (at least the first one I had gotten caught at that could have earned me some hard time in Juvie) I was basically released to Uncle Al and Aunt Rose with a stern warning to stay out of trouble.

That's when I met John Blaine. He was a man who became very important in my life and helped to shape the rest of my future without even realizing it at the time. John Blaine was a cop, an ordinary beat cop at the time. He took a special interest in kids like me, kids he could sense were worth saving for some reason. He was a close friend of Uncle Al, so he knew my history and knew how I had come to live with them. He started spending a lot of time with me, acting as a combination big brother and surrogate father.

One of the things he helped me to do was catch up with the rest of my classmates in school by tutoring me in the evenings and on the weekends. I still didn't care much for school but at least I could keep up with the work now.

Somehow, we just seemed to click. Slowly, brick by brick, he chipped his way through that wall I had built around myself and helped me to find better, more constructive ways to deal with my anger. We spent a lot of time together and I started to trust him more and more. And as I started to trust him and turn to him for advice and guidance, my attitude improved and everyone else around me started to notice a difference in my behavior. It didn't happen overnight by any means. I still got into a lot of fights, especially when anyone called me names or riled me up about something, but I was learning to control my more violent tendencies and outbursts. Maybe I was just starting to grow up. But if it hadn't been for John Blaine, I do believe that my life would have turned out differently. I would probably have ended up just like the hardened criminals that make my job so difficult.

John had a real passion about his job just like my Pop had and I loved to sit and listen to his stories about his life on the streets. It comforted me and reminded me so much of the times I sat and did the same thing with Pop. Of course, now that I was older, John filled in his stories with a lot more details than Pop ever did. Needless to say that made them a lot more interesting to me.

I wanted to drop out of school as soon as I turned sixteen but John talked me out of it and encouraged me to graduate. He stressed the importance of a diploma and although I didn't see it at the time, I did stay in school simply because he wanted me to. He also helped me to get a part time job after school and on the weekends working for a friend of his that owned a garage so I learned a lot about cars, something that has come in handy the older I got. I saved up my money and bought my first car when I was seventeen. It wasn't much, just a twenty-year-old piece of junk but it got me from one place to another most of the time.

By this time I had discovered girls in a big way and was having the time of my life. John was the one who counseled me on the finer points of 'safe sex' I'm not really sure who was more embarrassed by that particular conversation, me or him but I followed his advice religiously and never found myself in an unwanted situation like so many of my friends did at that age. I sure wasn't ready to be a daddy at seventeen. I didn't even want to be tied down to just one girl at that age. Still don't as a matter of fact, not anymore anyway.

John and I remained close friends throughout the years. The biggest shock of my life came when he was murdered and the news leaked out that he was gay. I couldn't believe it. I was angry and hurt, not because he was gay. I didn't care about that. I was angry and hurt because he never trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I know he felt he was doing the right thing by not telling me but I still wish that he had. It would have made it easier than finding out the way I did.

John was there along with Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al the night I graduated from High School. Ma and Nicky were there too. Everyone told me how proud they were of me and how I had turned my life around. Ma cried when I gave her a big hug and told her how much I loved her. For several months after she sent me to California, I refused to even talk to her but slowly, I began to understand why she had done what she had done. I know now that was the hardest decision she had to make in her life and one that she regretted even though she knew it was for the best in the long run. For the last couple of years I've been trying to talk Ma into moving out here to be close to me but she continues to refuse. She still lives in the same house and the same neighborhood and intends to stay there until she dies.

To me graduation meant freedom to work full time at the garage and to decide what I wanted to do with rest of my life. Little did I know that another major lifestyle change was about to take place. One that would once more change my life forever in ways I had never expected. Two months after I graduated, I got my draft notice.

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