fucked up day we had on Bergan Avenue was when my drunken father was home all day on this Saturday, drinking like a real piece of shit and throwing a fucking glass ashtray and hitting my mom right in the teeth, which broke several of her teeth. That was the first time in my life where I had to stand up to this drunken motherfucker; so I hit him with my wooden baseball bat. At that point, Mr. Murtauge from across the street must have heard the commotion. He came over to try to clean up the situation, which he did, at first taking care of my mother’s broken face then telling Pops he needed to go into a rehab facility immediately (Bergan Pines).
So Mr. Murtauge took Pops up to Bergan Pines for his rehab, which I know will not improve this type of motherfucker! Now I go over to my mom, holding a wet rag on her face to control all the blood, then Mrs. Murtage came over. She was a nurse in an NYC hospital for so many years. She took great care of my mom that day, cleaning her up with everything in the house. I will never forget how messed up Mom was that day after that piece of shit hit her with that ashtray. She was bleeding so badly I just wanted to kill the fucker in such a bad way. I hated that piece of shit—that is the best thing I can call him. It just goes on to show the unbelievable strength of my mother.
So this piece of shit was at the rehab center (Bergen Pines) for about two weeks, and my mother wanted to go and see this fucken loser. So I took the ride up there with her and stayed in the back of the room while the two of them talked for a while, and then me and Mom went home that day. On the way home I asked Mom what she really wanted to do with this scumbag husband, and she said what she always said: “I married him. I have to stick it out with him no matter what because we had gotten married in front of God,” which is why I so respected my mother because it is her will to always try to do the right thing, which is why my mother was brought up correctly by her parents. However, I do not think that staying with an abuser for any extended period of time is ever any good for anyone for any reason.
Another day on Bergen Avenue it was me, Scott, Rickey Brinster from down the street, and Michael Wooba Murtage. Wooba was as strong as an ox with just unbelievable strength. Whenever he hit the ball, it was gone. We were going to play a game of Wiffle ball in the Murtage backyard, where the roof was a homer, the gutter was a triple, and the chimney was a grand slam; and if the ball goes into the neighbor’s yard, it is sides retired.
It was Wooba and Liam against me and the two Brinsters, so we went up to bat first, and we scored five runs, then it was Wooba and Liam. Wooba led off with a homer, then I struck out Liam; then it was Wooba up again, so I threw a crazy curveball that went behind the shed. When Wooba went behind the shed to get the ball, we all took off for the Brinsters’ basement down the street. We were laughing like morons, then I got to the door first then Rickey, then we hear, “Ouch, uff, ouff.” Scott was getting his ass fucking kicked by Wooba, really bad, then five or so minutes later, we went out to see how fucked up Scotty was, and he was a total fucking mess due to Wooba’s ass kicking the shit out of him.
Although there were a lot of kids in the hood, it really sucked to be locked out all the time, which led to so many additional problems, such as myself becoming a great thief, which troubles me to talk about due to my mom’s earlier message in Valley Fair. It was at this time my older brother, Jupe, wanted to see me steal the smokes, so I told him and Wooba to wait outside of ACME.
So I went in on my own and came out with four cartons of smokes. So then the three of us went down to the railroad tracks and began smoking the stolen smokes. For some messed-up reason, Woobs started to get sick, so we went home, and thirty minutes later there was a knock on the door. It was Mr. Murtage. Sheer panic set in because Woobs was there as well. Mr. Murtage asked for my father to come outside, which he had Woobs tell my father and all of us what had happened that day at the ACME then at the railroad tracks; then Mr. Murtage started to beat the living shit out of Woobs, then my father started to kick the living shit out of Joe, then me.
It was just another day on the avenue. However, I needed to survive with the onslaught of being locked out of the home with nowhere to go or do. It was cold as a motherfucker in the wintertime. There was nothing to do but get into some kind of trouble. I had many conversations with my mom; however, I could not go into the home, otherwise my witch sister would not watch the home, which was no big deal to her because her friends were there every day. Just to quickly touch on my older brother, Jupe, he was going out with and eventually going to marry Christine DeCatano, who was the niece of a Mafia leader named Carmine the Snake Persico, who was locked up for 140 years for running the Columbo crime family. He was the boss until he died in early 2019.
There were a few good days that I had at home. One Saturday morning, after a night of snow, I went into my witch sister’s room due to her sleeping over at a friend’s house and went out of her window onto the carport where the snow was begging to melt, and the packing of a snowball was perfect. So here came a cop car. I was on the rooftop with the window wide open, and I packed the perfect snowball and winged it right at the cop car’s window, and bing, I hit the cop right in the neck! He jumped out of the car and ran around my home, looking for anyone; however, I had dived back through the window after hitting him in the head. He could not find anyone, and I went back out on the carport again, and here he came again, going so slowly. So I packed another perfect snowball and threw it with all my might, and once again, puff, right in the neck again. Out of the fucken car he came, flying into the backyard again. This time he came up to the front door and rang the bell.
My father answered the door in his boxer shorts and asked the cop, “What the hell are you trying to say? There is nobody here throwing snowballs at anyone, so get the hell out of here.”
I had a really great friend called Kevin Mertz. We went to school together and hung out together, which was a good thing for me, being locked out of my house by the evil-witch sister of mine. At night we were doing the usual bullshit, trying to hit on schoolgirls and shot like that. So one night, right before Kevin passed away, we went into NYC to hang out at a few bars and then go back home. I believed this was going to become the normal shit we would start doing. We were really getting along great when I received a call from Kevin’s sister the same day I received a call from Kevin’s brother, telling me they had just found Kevin dead in his car in his garage as it was running for a long time. What a fucking tragedy! It was another punch in the fucken face for me with Kevin passing away.
Anyway, I ended up hooking up with this girl. Her name was Susan Morelli. I was going out with her for a little while. She was a very nice person who was a hell of a kisser, who had a very well-put-together body, which I completely enjoyed probing once in a while. Her father I knew was a mobster. Anyway, I kept my distance from Mr. Morelli. It was a great six to eight months with Susan. She was a good person who I really got along with in a very great way.
After my snowballs at the cops and my brief relationship with Susan Morelli, I had to do something positive with my life, at which point I went to see the Army recruiter by myself to discuss the Army situation. I really needed to get the hell out of Ridgefield Park. After seeing the recruiter, I signed up for three years. It was only two days after my seventeenth birthday. I was the youngest person in the Army at that time. It was very odd, being the youngest one in the Army. I did my basic training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, then had my schooling at Fort Lee, Virginia, then went to my permanent party at Fort Carson, Colorado. The whole process I ate it up with no problems at all due to my workouts with the Murtages back on Bergan Avenue in Ridgefield Park.
I was now just trying to settle into my new home in the Army and was making the most of it. In the very beginning I was just trying to figure this place out. At first, looking around the whole base, I joined the boxing team, which was a great start for me, doing something I really enjoyed. It was tough because we had to do a tremendous amount of roadwork running, and the air was so thin in Colorado. It was tough at first due to the thin air, as well as me never liking the roadwork or even running—although I really needed to as far as the workouts, so the boxing part was really going good. However, I got there too late for any boxing matches because the season
