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2. West 7th Street
West 7th Street
West 7th Street is the continuation in a series of hubs in which I discuss my life of rebellion, dabbling in the Occult, drugs, crime and prison to life-changing conversion through Jesus Christ. Click here to read it from the beginning. In this hub, I discuss some of the experiences I had growing up on West 7th Street in Antioch, CA. Experiences that included seeing one of my neighbors getting nearly chocked to death, my little sister getting hit in the head with a baseball bat, and a friend of mine getting beat up by a grown women.
I lived most of my life in the city of Antioch, CA. That is where my parents raised my three sisters and I. We were some bad kids, too. My father's way of dealing with our misbehavior was by spanking us. I think I got spanked every day for about 15 years (I may be exaggerating a little bit); but when I was about 15 years old, my dad decided that I was too old for him to spank, any more. Thank goodness. Also, in our youth, my sisters and I fought like cats and dogs. I have a much better relationship with them now; although, they still can't seem to get along with each other. I hear that's pretty typical in a family dominated by females.
We had some wild and interesting neighbors on West 7th St. One of my neighbors from across the street, Linda, was a drug addict. She had constant problems with her neighbors. Her neighbors were a family of four: a married couple with a son and a daughter. One time, the father of that family, Al, was in a body cast as a result of some kind of work related accident (although, it was rumored that he was just pulling a scam). However, that didn't stop him from lunging from his medical bed in his living room, straight for Linda in her front yard, and start choking her against her tree!
Supposedly, Linda brandished a small handgun at one of Al’s children, who in turn told him about it. Al was infuriated! He came striking out of his front door like a bolt of lightning, in his body cast. Within a split second he had his hands around Linda’s throat, jerking her back and forth against the tree in her front yard. Linda did not know what hit her. Her hands were grasped around Al’s wrists in a desperate attempt to pry herself free from his death grip. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, while she made a horrendous gargling sound; and her eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of their sockets. Fortunately, for Linda, someone got in between the two of them and broke them up.
During another occasion, my sisters and I were gathered in a circle in our front yard observing two guys, Boney (pronounced Bo-ni) and Jason, arguing with each other. Jason had a baseball bat in his hand and threatened Bony with it. Bony in turn, threatened Jason with a knife. As Jason cocked back his baseball bat to hit Bony, who was directly across from him, everybody ducked. Everybody, that is, except my sister, Krystyna. She got hit right in the forehead! On contact, the aluminum baseball made this loud “bink” sound and Krystyna fell straight to the ground. Then, everybody except my sisters and I scattered like cockroaches when the lights turn on. My poor sister, Krystyna, cried so hard it pained my heart.
These are just some of the extraordinary experiences I had as a youth living on West 7th Street. I am actually holding a lot back; but these are the highlights. I was surrounded by drugs and violence from an early age; and that had a lot of impact on me, because I would later be arrested by the DEA for drug trafficking and gun possession.
There was this time when I was riding bikes with Jason. We were on opposite sides of the street, riding our bikes on the sidewalk. We had just stopped at an intersection and were getting ready to cross the road when, in between us, at the stop in the road; an old, brown, dirty station wagon pulled up with two ladies that looked like they were tweakers (meth addicts), bitterly arguing. They had all the tell-tale signs of being tweakers: their hair was nappy, their clothes were raggedy, they had bags under their eyes like they had been up for a week, they were really skinny, and they were Caucasian (meth was a predominately Caucasian used drug in Antioch at the time). Their driver and passenger windows were rolled down, so we could see and hear the argument between them.
I really was not interested in the ladies’ argument, but Jason was riveted to them in fascination. He was watching the ladies from the passenger side of the car. I hollered, “Come on, let’s go”. All of the sudden, the lady from the passenger side whipped her head around towards Jason and snapped, “What are you looking at!” Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she flung her door open and jetted from the car, straight for him.
The lady was on Jason in no time; and without hesitation, with what seemed like some kind of meth-fueled, superhuman strength, she picked him up by his neck with her left hand, ripping Jason from his bicycle. Jason hung by her hand, suspended in mid air, screaming, with a look of terror in his eyes, his limbs flailing wildly as his bicycle fell to the ground. Then the lady reached back with her right hand and smacked him clear across his face, dropping him on top of his bike.
The lady then sprinted back to her car and slammed her door shut as the driver peeled off with the pedal to the metal, screeching across the intersection like some kind of bandits on the get away from a bank robbery. Jason lay on his bike, crying like a little baby. That's what he gets for hitting my sister in the head with a bat!
These are just some of the extraordinary experiences I had as a youth living on West 7th Street. I am actually holding a lot back; but these are the highlights. I was surrounded by drugs and violence from an early age; and that had a lot of impact on me, because I would later be arrested by the DEA for drug trafficking and gun possession. In my next hub, I will discuss some spooky experiences I had connected with playing with the Ouija Board. Click the link below to read it.