The Twenty-Buck Thief Story

July 15, 1968 - Fool me once? Nope.

When I was fifteen, I had $20.00 in my pocket and I was looking to buy a shirt on 125th Street. I'd been walking up to that area from my house on 114th Street and Lenox Avenue since I was thirteen and I never had any reason to fear my surroundings. 1968 was the year when Harlemites rioted on 125th Street after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. I had hung around the neighborhood with my friends for years and was never involved in these events or anything close to dangerous. As in every life, a lesson must be learned to change things forever.

As I was walking pass the Lowe's movie theater, not far from the Apollo, these three guys, who had to be around sixteen or seventeen, approached me, asking me if I had any money. To my young mind, I thought that the small amount that I was carrying was hardly what they were looking for and I pulled out my twenty dollar bill.  As I held it out to show them, one guy made a move to try to grab it but he was worrying more about turning on his heel to get ready to run. I pulled the twenty back quickly and returned it to my pocket. It was obvious that these guys were trying to get the money from me quietly and they did not want to draw attention to themselves. 

Talking nicely with this group was not working so I started to walk away but they followed me. As I got closer to a policeman that I saw in the distance, they backed off. I had never had any involvement with the police and I wasn't sure how to even say "These guys are following me. Help!"  Regardless, I felt good that they had walked away.  Of course, after I got pass the cop, here they come again. This time they were trying to surround me.  

It was obvious that they were going to try to take the money so when they grouped around me, I pointed and loudly said "The cops coming."  As they all turned, I grabbed the shoulder of the one in front of me and then pushed him into the one on my left. Through the space he had left, I then started to run as fast as I could. They ran after me for about a block but they soon understood that it looked crazy for three larger guys to be chasing one smaller one and expect   not to get themselves noticed.  Adding to their discouragement was the fact that I had no intention of ever stopping. 

After getting pass the second block, I looked back but they were no where to be found. I ran the third block up to Morningside Avenue just in case. I walked back home the long way around and never saw them again. Despite my innocence, the only thing I had lost that day was some rubber from my sneakers. What I had gained was the understanding that no matter how much I loved my neighborhood, I'd better keep my eyes open. 

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Shake Rhymes With Earthquake

October 7, 1983, 6:19 am - The Day the Earth Did Not Stand Still.

Life as a newly-wed was great. Wen and I had been married for less than a month and we were already living in our fantastic second-floor, two-bedroom apartment, with a back patio no less. And pop open the champagne because the results were in. Yes, she was pregnant! Life was good and all was calm with the world. I was now Mr. Puffed-Up Chest who was ready to take on the world. I would do anything to protect my home and family.

All these thoughts ran through my thirty-year old mind as I laid there next to my future. I glanced at the clock and it was 6:15 am on a Friday morning. Wen was off work today and I was not due in until 3 pm. I hugged my wife from behind and drifted back into slumber-land.

Little did I know, there were events going on underground, about 250 miles to the north, in Blue Mountain, New York, that would spoil my beauty nap. It seems that a 5.3 earthquake was about to start there, which would involve two provinces in Canada and twelve states in the USA. Not to mention little old Bronx, New York.
 

Before this time, I had never experienced a quake before. I'd seen them in the movies but I'd always heard that New York City was built on solid bedrock. No need to worry about natural disasters when you're a native New Yorker. We don't have time for such things. I guess Mother Nature was not impressed with our New York way of doing things.

At 6:19 am, it began as a slight rumbling which was shaking the bed just enough to wake me up. I felt as if I were standing on the subway platform and a train was passing through but no worse. A few seconds later, the bed was moving from side to side really hard and there was a far away noise which sounded much louder than the number 5 IRT express.

I jumped out of the bed to my feet and realized that the floor was also shaking violently. I stood there for a second trying to ascertain what would be my best course of action to protect the woman I loved. By now, Wen was looking in my direction and was just as bewildered as I was. The noise seemed to increase and all I could imagine was that there was a problem with the boiler in the basement and it was about to blow up. Within another two seconds, I decided to take the bravest course of action possible. With no thought of personal for my personal safety, I jumped back into the bed and used my body to shield my wife from harm.

After a few more seconds, there was silence. Wen and I looked at each other and waited a while. We glanced out the window and saw no commotion. so we then turned on the television and the radio. We found out what the rest of the area was also experiencing. There were no aftershocks. At least none that affected our area.

Some may say that I bolted back into the bed out of fear. I say that I carefully calculated the odds and proceeded to save the life of my new wife, my unborn child and also the entire city of New York. At least that's the way I'd like to remember it.

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