The Color Of Friendship
During most of the 1980's, I lived in a small suburb of Trenton, New Jersey, known as Chambersburg. Located right on the border of downtown, this area at the time was made up of mostly middle class Italian families. I had a few local friends that I hung out with on a daily basis when I wasn't grounded or having to stay late at school. None of my friends or I were of Italian descent and kept mostly to ourselves. This wasn't because we had problems with the Italians; it was because they seemed to have a problem with anyone who wasn't also Italian. Not all of them felt this way, it was mostly a gang known as the Bulls. They ranged in age from around 13 to 21 and basically had the run of the area. They were a typical gang whereas if there were only one or two of them together, they wouldn't bat an eye and could be the nicest people you'd ever meet. However, when they were in a group, they seemed to suddenly transform into demons. Downtown seemed to be a different world altogether, being mostly made up of lower income black families. The difference with them being, that if you met one or two they could either be nice...or not. It seemed they didn't need to be in big groups in order to be intimidating. I don't reme
During his memorial service my thoughts drifted. I found myself thinking it odd how two people, from two different worlds, could meet under the strangest of circumstances, and still form such a strong friendship. In my mind, I actually thanked the Bull members who jumped us. Without that single event, I never would have done more than just give a cigarette to one of the best friends I've ever known. I learned for myself that color does not make a person, for our skin is only that. It is our hearts and souls that make us human. I no longer live in Trenton, though when I'm there to visit my father, I often walk through downtown to the projects and visit with Martin's mother for a while. I had detention that day so my friends were already gone when I left school. When I was about halfway home, three guys stopped me. I knew two of them, Angelo and Rich. I knew they were both members in the Pit Bulls so I figure the 3rd guy was also. Before any words were said, I felt a fist slam my cheek. I got a few shots in and broke Angelo's nose during the fight, but all in all, they did a much better number on me. It was about two weeks before I could open my eyes all the way, and it took longer than that for me to stop coughing blood. At first, I didn't know the reason why I had received this little beating, until I found out Martin had gotten the same treatment, though worse. I visited him quite a few times while he was in the hospital due to three punctures from an ice pick in his stomach. It seemed we were both jumped simply for no other reason than talking to each other. Rick and Gary had a scuffle with a few Bulls of their own, though other than Gary's black eye, they were pretty much ok. When Martin was released from the hospital, his mother had him transferred to a different school and I didn't see him again for over a year. I didn't blame him for not wanting to venture into my neighborhood to hang out, and he didn't blame me for not wanting to venture into his. We talked on the phone a few times, although with school, friends, and girls, it wasn't long before we had stopped chatting altogether. When next we did finally meet, it was under the oddest circumstances. At 4:00am on October 8th, the recruiter picked me up to head to the M.E.P.S (Militar
Some common words found in the essay are:
Rick Gary, Chambersburg Located, Desert Storm, Chambersburg Downtown, Radio Communications, Pit Bulls, Colonial Hamilton, Trenton Projects, Sonar Technician, Diego California, boot camp, didn't blame venture, recruiting station, black kid, transferred school, 3rd august, told gary, school none, didn't blame, blame venture, rick gary,
Approximate Word count = 1545
Approximate Pages = 6 (250 words per page double spaced)
|
