Chapter Thirty-Two

Here’s the next Chapter of Lost and Found.

It seems as though this week so far has been taken up with a lot of political issues to which I should probably not devote so much effort. I don’t know how to sit back and rest when I see so many things happening in our world, and especially in this country, where I feel an urgent need to express my beliefs.

One of the reasons why this Memoir/Novel is being written is to show how a person who lived by violence as a way to solve everything, can become a person who believes in peace as the only way to live his life and work on problems.

I hope you will all stay with me in this project. We have quite a ways to go. I do appreciate your comments and encourage you to let me know your thoughts.

Be well — be in peace,

Ron Rink
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It was one of the slowest days I had seen in all the time I’d been working at the bowling alley. Billy and I were spending most of the time just hanging around in back of the lanes, smoking. Most of the other guys working were doing the same. There were a couple of the guys working with bowlers, but the rest of us were just hanging around.

We sat there smoking and waiting for some business on our alleys. Billy was drinking a chocolate coke he got earlier from the food counter. We normally weren’t allowed to get anything from the counter but the boss had gone out and the woman behind the counter would sneak them for us whenever it wasn’t too busy.

“Billy,” I said leaning back against the wall behind me with my eyes closed, “what do I have to do to get into the State Fair Dukes gang?”

Billy looked like he was half asleep. He turned his head a little bit and glanced at me sideways, “You have to fight a couple of the guys and steal a few cartons of cigarettes,” he muttered.

He said it like it was no big deal. By contrast, my heart leaped into my throat when he told me what I had to do — fight two of the Dukes and steal cigarettes? I was not feeling anywhere near as relaxed as he was right about then. I had no idea I’d have to do anything like that.

“I don’t think I’m ready yet — aren’t those guys a lot bigger than me — and I don’t know how to steal stuff? Do I have to rob a store or something? Do I have to win the fights, or do I just have to get into a fight with these guys?”

The questions were rolling off my tongue faster than I could think them. I knew I would need to be one of the Dukes if I expected to have any chance of surviving on the streets full time. From what Billy had told me, the Dukes really looked out for each other. I knew once I was living on the streets all the time, I would need places and people I could depend upon. The hobos, perverts and other street people were always around, but since I had found ways to stay off the streets at night, they hadn’t bothered me.

Billy was still sitting with his eyes closed, his arms folded across his chest, his legs spread out in front of him, and his cigarette dangling out of his mouth as he said, “Don’t worry about it, Van. You can handle it. You don’t know it yet, but you fight a lot better than some of the guys in the Dukes who are three or four years older than you.”

“You really think so?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to Bob Morton. He’s the leader of the Dukes. I’ll tell him about you. I’ll tell him you’re a good fighter. I’ll ask him to pick a couple of guys I think you can handle.”

I knew I was getting stronger and smarter all the time. Even though the only people I had fought were the kid at the hockey rink and Billy, I was learning how to keep my mind on what I was doing. There were lots of times now when I could do things to completely catch Billy off guard. I was able to get him down faster and more frequently. I also could tell he wasn’t faking it when it happened. He’d be surprised, but also a little pissed. He’d show it by the way he retaliated when we’d start practicing again — he’d have me on the ground so fast I didn’t know how I got there.

I took a slow drag on my cigarette and leaned forward, wrapping my arms around my legs. I looked back at Billy and asked, “But won’t the guys I fight get pissed if I do win a fight with them? I don’t want to be making enemies in the Dukes.”

Billy shook his head and said, “Nah. Morton doesn’t let the fight go on for long. He just wants to be sure you can fight and aren’t afraid to fight, that’s all.”

“Okay, but what about the guys I fight?”

“Don’t worry about them. They know what this fight is about.”

I’m not sure I was convinced. We sat daydreaming for quite awhile. I don’t know where Billy’s mind was wandering, but mine was extremely busy with street-fighting two of the Dukes and stealing cartons of cigarettes.

“What about stealing cigarettes? Can you show me what to do?” I asked.

“Yeah. I steal cigarettes all the time for my old man and me. There are lots of places where you can do it and not get caught if you know what you’re doing. Meet me tonight and I’ll show you one of the stores I’ve robbed before. Can you get out?”

“What time?”

“About nine o’clock.”

“Yeah, my parents have their choir practice tonight and they don’t get home until around eleven,” I said as I smiled with nervous anticipation.

My stomach was doing flip-flops I was so excited. Getting caught on the streets as a runaway kid would be a lot different than getting caught robbing a store.

The thought of robbing a store brought with it an entirely new set of fears and anxiety.
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My other blogs:

http://www.theleaderinside.com
http://www.buddhistbelief.com
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