This book is a non-fiction that reads like an adventure. It has family dysfunction, crime, drugs, sex and insanity. Thank God I found a path out. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did living it.To set this story into motion, I must tell you a few things, one being about my family, and the other about the neighborhood where I grew up: I was born into a Catholic Italian household. My father and mother were both from the old country. There must be some place where all Italians are made, as they all act and think alike. My father, like all Italian men, had two emotions: anger, and rage. Mom had a few more, such as apathy, grief, victim, propitiation and of course, anger. I grew up confused, not wanting to be like either one of them. So I decided to be someone else - someone who would think and act in his own way. This difference created a childhood filled with turmoil and trouble, which spilled over into school, church, friends and life in general. I have or had four sisters. One killed herself just like dear old dad did, but I don't want to give away too much of the story at this point. I also have three brothers who as I sit here may still be alive - at least as far as I know. I am not close to any of my remaining family, but you will see why, as the story unfolds. My neighborhood was (and I say was, as it was rapidly changing even before I left which was quite a long time ago), a very tight-knit, or well-woven structure. It was a melting pot of Irish, Germans, Jews and Italians. Blacks were just starting to move in as I left home. It was so tightly woven that I could do something, like get in some kind of trouble, and before I got home my parents would already know about it. It was the kind of neighborhood that had its own stores, schools and churches, and the houses were close enough together that you could hear your neighbors if they happened to be fighting (which was a common occurrence). If you haven't guessed it by now, I am talking about upstate New York: Rochester to be exact. On the 12th of June, in 1949, I was born in Rochester, and I stayed there on up through the late '60s when I blew that place due to circumstances to be later explained. I created trouble for myself as well as all who chose to be around me. Well, I hope this sets the scene for this story, or should I put it in a different way and say, my history. "Is it true?" you might ask. Well, what is truth? It is only what one believes it to be, and I believe you will, while reading this have a lot of thoughts, opinions and emotions - and hopefully a lot of laughs. And who knows? Maybe you will see some truth.
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