What goes around comes around!

Smurphy the Smirker stood upon the hill
Jumping and smashing all the daffodils.
Why are you standing on my flower way?
Asked the Lord's nature, dressed in sunny day.
Must be a color or the way they smell,
Could be the beauty, really couldn't tell!

Smurphy the Smirker stood upon the beach
Jumping and smashing everything in reach.
Why are you standing on my coral way?
Asked the Lord's nature, dressed in tempest day.
Must be the crabsters or a flocking bird,
Could be the salties, really sounds absurd!

Smurphy the Smirker stood upon the woods
Jumping and smashing everything he could.
Why are you standing on my tree full way?
Asked the Lord's nature, dressed in forest day.
Must be the squirrels or a tree top snake,
Could be the pine cones, really, give or take!

Smurphy the Smirker lay upon the ground
As the Lord's nature jumped and smashed around.
Why are you standing on my tummy round?
Asked Mr. Smirky in a pleading sound.
Could it be an omen or a fit of glee,

Must be the answers that you gave to me!

"The court has found your son to be delinquent. You seem to have no control over his actions. He demonstrates a tendency towards criminal actions. We have decided to send him to a special school in Queens. It is like any "normal" school -- only difference is it's all boys and the teachers are trained in dealing with emotionally troubled children. You will bring him there this very morning and register him." The Judge glanced at the Rollex watch on his arm and then continued: "Before we recess, I would like you to step forward young man."

Joe stepped up to the sturdy oak table seperating him from the bench and stood at attention.

Looking directly at him, The Judge started the ball rolling, determined in its direction, setting a course that would continue for the rest of Joe's adolescent life: "Young man, you are the problem with this country today: a juvenile delinquent who has no regard for your school system, your mother, nor any authority. You, young man, are not owed a single thing! It is your responcibility to over come your hardships! You have no excuse. When I was a youth my father beat my butt for doing a fraction of what you have done! Our country has done much for your family. Your family came to this country on the goodwill of this nation! Do you truly want to grow up like your father? Do you want your life to end like his? Left upon a cold and muddy street for people to stepover? Do you..."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean my fa...? Joe interupted.

"YOUNG MAN. DON'T YOU DARE EVER INTERRUPT ME! I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER! YOU MIGHT FOOL HER, BUT NOT ME!"

Joe was confused, lost, dumb founded. He had no idea what The Judge was talking about. Pictures of his father lying on a cold and muddy street with people walking their dogs over him flashed across his mind in living Technicolor. Did he mean at the accident site? He thought to himself.

"...and if you appear in "My" court again, I will throw the book at you!" Bang! The gavel came down. "Court recessed!"

Harry, Joe never had the chance to say anything in his defense, to ask the questions that were rattling around in his head, or to pay attention to anything which had occured after The Judge introduced the statements of his father. And Jeanette, feeling the appropriate answer was silence, kept quiet--though this would have been the best place and time for proper intervention; But then, no one knew or attempted to discover the complications of this family-- continuation ruled the day....

A picture of a medieval apparition greeted them upon arriving at the "special school": Stark, lonely and sinister, the large filth-shrouded building had steel bar encased windows and a high, wrought iron fence running completely around it's circumference. An absence of children playing in its large playground and athletic yard left Joe with a feeling of disillusion.

Climbing the graffiti blanketed steps to a set of massive steel doors, which creaked and groaned a message of ageless torment as they swung out and open on tired, rusted hinges, gave Joe second thoughts of entering it's darkened, hollow sounding entrance. No happy sounds reverberated from within, not a single echo of busy, striving students bounced from its stained and dingy, institutional walls, no colors of the rainbow gleamed and shouted with cheer from its bulletin board, only internal memos and warnings of the punishment to be conferred on those the system determined needed it.

The gloom-filled building Joe had entered would become a dungeon to many lonely, desperate, emotionally hurt castaways of an unforgiving society, who, upon abandoning these misfits, continued on its glorious way -- while these pupils of the storm relied upon their wits, strength, and fists. Left to fend among themselves, these students of an archaic juvenile system would develop into devious, cold hearted, criminals, who, until they left this mortal earth, would haunt their tormentors.

At the main office they were introduced to the principle...

George "Lefty" Simmons seemed to be a tall, easy-going, Afro-American. He asked them to have a seat while an assistant prepared the paper work and left the office. In order to wash the thoughts of his father which continued to crop up in his sub-consious mind, Joe began to concentrate on the pictures on the walls. He noticed there were plenty of pictures of Lefty in boxing rings, but no degrees or testaments of his educational experience... but, he thought, if the pictures were correct, maybe he would teach him how to box... like a good father figure! He tapped his mother on the arm and pointed to the walls. Jeanette, also lost in another world of thought, looked and shrugged her shoulders.

Lefty soon returned, sat down behind his desk, and began speaking of the changes Jeanette would see in Joe after a few weeks of attending his school of "higher" education. Then he stood, genely took Jeanette's arm and, while laughing and joking, escorted her out of the school--leaving Joe to continue contemplating this change in his life.

About twenty minutes later Lefty returned and sat down behind his desk. "So you're the young punk that Judge Milton Gordon sent down? Your a "W.O.P." that's gonna learn that I have the last say! I tell you to jump and you don't jump, I will kick your @#$!ing Italian butt from here to Italy... You %$@#ing understand? Do you?"

Joe was stunned and devastated by the change in this "gentle, considerate man". He soon demonstrated how much he felt sorry for himself by acting nonchalant.

"Yea, man, I understand." He said in a casual way.

"You little smart $#@! You say sir!" The principle shouted as he smacked him so hard he saw stars.

Instead of crying, Joe transferred his erupting energy into an anger that splashed red neon across his now grim, rock hard face.The message to Lefty was ugly and direct: "Kiss my ass!"

"I will show you who's boss," Mr. Principle said. "Hey, Larry," he asked of his assistant, "What class are the Jones Brothers in?"

"371, with Bartholomy Samuals," he replied--as if this was a normal request.

"Well, you personally escort "Mr. Wise Guy" and get him signed up in 371."

Joe entered the class and immediatly realized the pupils, a racial mix of White, Puerto Rican, and Black were all five inches taller then him. Hostility greeted him the moment he entered the door. 'This is gonna be a bummer,' he thought to himself.

As the day went by, the principle called the Jones Brothers in for a consultation --Joe was frightened the whole day. When the bell rang, he grabbed his coat and rushed for the exit... he didn't make it in time. The Jones Brothers, with several of their cohorts, caught him in the stairwell.

"So... Your the %$#%t %$#@ eating "W.O.P." that thinks he's to good to be here!

The entire group began taunting him.

"Let's just $#%@ him up!" Another cut in. "Yea! He can take his butt to the hospital after they're through with him!"

Joe had no choice but to go on the offensive and hit the first guy that started the situation -- it was his last punch! They grabbed him and started to beat the heck out of him. Bam! Whack! His mouth was bleeding, his nose broken, his eye swollen and red.... before the principle "happened" to arrive and rescue him. After a brief appearance at the infirmary, he was allowed to leave and go home.

All the way home he held his tears and grief and thought of his father. Oh! How he wished he could be here to help him! He was devastated! He had to go to school the next day and face that same group. Arriving in his neighborhood, he snuck to his apartment lest the crew happen to see him in the shape he was in.

Entering his apartment, his mother took one look at him and started yelling: "What the heck happened? Who did you get upset in order to deserve such a beating? What am I gonna do with you!"

Hurt, sad, and expecting sympathy, Joe strutted "with out a care" to his room to clean up and get ready for dinner. But once behind the security of the wood door, he fell upon his bed begging God to end his life...

A loud rapping upon his bedroom door aroused Joe from the sleep of exhaustion he had drifted into. He attempted to ask whom it was but a sharp pain shot through his jaw before he could utter a single syllable. Angela's voice asking if he was all right broke through his pain and he stood up and opened the door for her to enter.

She entered the room with out saying a word, put her arms around him, and started crying. Through Angela's tears, Joe knew she could feel the pain of his soul, his inner spirit that longed for the old ways. She knew of his suffering, both physical and mental. She could feel his embarrasement, his feeling of failure, his shame. A wave of compassion rushed through his body, touching his heart, relieving his mental and physical pain. Her understanding and sympathy were demonstrations of emotions long absent from the world of those infected with The Curse!

With his strength and pride once more renewed, Joe stood straight as an arrow and wrapped his arms around his sister. Reversing the roles, he once more became the man of the house that had emerged that rainy Sunday in '62: "I will be fine. Don't you shed any more tears! It will be all right" He began kidding her about her concern. "What, you my mother or what?" Soon they were both laughing and joking around with him making comical, distorted faces, complete with swollen, red marks and bruises--and she, imitating.

It was in this way they buried the questions, questions she knew from her own traditional training were not to be asked. As a man, he was expected to deal with his own troubles... No matter what!

Atomic missles in the keep
Killer subs way down deep
Scores of bombers at the ready
Fighting soldiers standing steady
Today is the moment of glory
Let arms be brought for the sorty
Our men are at the front
The enemy they shall hunt
In blistering heat and freezing cold
Fight to win from young to old
Why are our men battling wars
On other nations lonely shores
There are Generals it seems
Who live with ugly dreams
They are out to fight
Disaster and deadly blight
Peace at last
Better then the blast

Of atoms that dare

Pronounce warfare!

.

Gathered around the old, metal-legged, plastic covered table, Carmine took one look at Joe and asked in a loud voice; "What happened to you?!".

"I got hit with a truck," Joe mumbled sarcastically through his swollen mouth.

"Really, you did? When?" He asked, leaning forward intently.

"No I'm kidding, really...it was just an accident..." He trailed off.

Just an accident had become the answer to all questions which could not be answered and to all situations which were reserved for their own memories--to be dealt with and recalled only by those whom had reserved them under: "Accident/Personal." Joe's desire to briskly brush away any mention of his misshap was of paramount concern to him. He knew how a simple situation could snow ball into a major confrontation at the dinner table. All Italian men learned from a young age not to discuss business with children and woman.

Let us say our prayer of thanks, Joe said. And everyone folded their hands as he led the blessing. They then passed a bowl of pastabazool, a concoction of pasta, peas, beans, onions and garlic in a light red sauce--a favorite staple of his mother because it was cheap, nutritious, and filling--around the table. His brothers--Carmine and Eddy-- began to eat with relish. Angela and he, on the other hand, began talking of her day at school as they picked and played with their food. To them, the memory of great Italian cooking consumed when father was alive always made it's presence at the dinner table. Jeanette, running around in a frenzy as she dressed for work, approached the table and started spouting the fact of children starving around the world --she ended with: "Look at your brothers"--who feigned sincerity and humbleness "See...they eat everything because they understand!"

The evenings meal was progressing like any other Joe thought to himself. At first, Angela and he never blamed their brothers for the stress that dinner--with their help--heaped upon their lonely hearts. But he knew they would eventually have to put them in their place--it was effecting everything they did. Lately, at the dinner table, all he could do was think about getting even. Joe finely frowned at Carmine when he started to take his "see I'm a good guy" too far. He started to say that Joe probably caused the accident which resulted in his Halloween mask. Mimicking his mother, he began to harass him for running away and causing him "inguish"---a word he had no idea how to pronounce correctly, let alone understand. The developing argument caught the attention of Connie, who had just entered sack in hand, stomping and swaying as she asked matter-of-fact: "Jean is this young man giving you a hard time?"

His mother, caught up in the situation, told her to punish him by limiting him to his room. Connie did this immediately, causing his sister to stick-up for him, which caused his mother to tell Angela to clean the dishes, throw the garbage out, iron the clothes, shut her mouth, and then go to her room. It was time! He really had enough! His sister and he looked at each other as they parted from the table... He winked and left for his room.

As he sat in his room, sounds of his crew yelling their war cry, "Ave' Ho!," reverberated through the streets and up to his room. He opened the fogged-up window and yelled for them to come to Angela's room which had a fire escape they could climb up on., "Hey Nicky... Come back in an hour to Angie's window."

Later that night, after his mom had gone to work and the Beast had retired to the Honeymooners, he crept to Angela's "room". Jeanette had one of Joe Pag's guys put a door in. He lightly knocked on the door and she opened it. He motioned for her to keep quiet and went to the window to inform the crew to come up.

After everyone had climbed into the "closet", he told them of the situation at "school".

He was fed up with his situation and had no one to turn to but his "friends". After informing them of the situation, Donny's eyes lit up and he told them that the Jones brothers were part of a black crew which worked for The Gallo brothers--made guys of the mob who used Afro-Americans as hitters, drug runners and collection strong arm troops for some of their territories. They then came up with an idea ... but first, his immediate problem...

Pauly, Donny, and he crept into the kitchen and grabbed Carmine, who was feasting on graham crackers. He placed his hand on his cracker-filled mouth, while Danny opened the clothes dryer and shoved him in-- along with the balance of the large pot of pastabazool! Nicky turned the machine on.... Around and around went Carmine -- with his "favorite meal"!

They retired to Angela's room to snicker and laugh each time they heard the Clump... Clump... Clump... of Carmine as he went on his tasty, yummy ride! By the time Connie realized the dryer -- which had it's heater disconnected and was not supposed to be turned on -- was in fact on, they, the laundry crew were screaming with laughter. She lifted herself from the couch and stomped to the kitchen to rescued a crying and garlicky Carmine... And then... you know... She went on a RAMPAGE!

Hearing the steam-roller approaching with all her fog horns blaring, they, in hysterical laughter, rushed to escape the giant through the lone window and its Jack in the Bean Stalk miracle---the fire escape.... They did not make it...

All of a sudden there was a "Who the @#$!s in there!? Who in the heck put Carmine in the dryer!?" The door, closed and triple locked, was ripped off its hinges. A sight both comical and frightening greeted them.

Aunt Connie, door in one hand, metal Electrolux vacuum cleaner extension in the other... glaring... wild eyes stuck in her red, bloated face... gaping, wide open mouth.... screaming obscenities without pause... sent the crew into escape mode! What a racket they caused! Everyone was running, pushing, squeezing --through any opening that could be found.

Nicky the Greek's huge frame stuck in the window...

...the Beast senses opportunity...

....Attack!! Attack!!

Beating Nicky about the buttocks with her "magical wand"....

Nicky yelling for rescue.... (they were not frightened, on the contrary, they were delighted by this comical diversion!)

The rest, running in circles, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt.

Pete tries to escape....

....through the giant's legs....

The Beast stands in a wide stance, swinging...grabbing....

Pete gets stuck...

The giant, steam-rolling Beast displays an amazing dexterity for dance and action.... holding the door and pummeling Nicky....while performing a Polish, foot stomping Polka.... on top of Pete...

That's when Pauly, Donny and Joe rushed her.... as if playing tackle for the NY. Giants....

...a tremendous crash....

...driving her through the doorway....

...Uh Oh!!!.

...No!!!!....

...not into mother's only remaining piece of fine furniture!

....the heirloom of their ancestors!....

THE NIGHT STAND!!!!!!....

The night stand, handed down from her mother, handed down from her father, handed down from his father... who made it by hand. It had traveled the world of the Dicanio legacy until it's present, intertwined relationship with the Baffa Clan. 'If only it could talk", Jeanette would often say. It was supposed to bring good luck to all whom protected it's being. It held several ornate silver framed photographs of the various family members whom once owned and ruled it's predicament. A picture history of the great father figures whom had produced the heritage that ruled his life. Did they own it... or it them?!

NO! NO!

Crash... Boom....!

There sat Connie....dazed....dress pulled-up....exposing large, meaty thighs...red cherry peppers dangling in her hair....

She looked like a large, distorted Christmas tree, with a loaf of Italian bread stuck between its limbs.

Dazed, confused, and angry.... She was up and ready to begin anew....

The crew and he, sensing they had lucked out thus far, beat it to the door and freedom!

Figuring it was a done deal--the trouble he was in so far--he went for broke... Starting with the Church and ending with the Jones Brothers.

Joe gathered the crew and they walked to the Church and its sanctuary. Entering the open doors, they began looting the poor boxes. As the guys filled a paper sack with change, Joe felt a draft of cool air cross his brow. He stopped dead still and looked down the aisle towards the alter. He wanted to shout to the guys that they should forget about the money, but his mouth wouldn't respond. His voice was as frozen as the plastered images which stood upon their pedestals gazing mutely at this sacrilege with pity.

As they were leaving a Priest approached them: "My poor boys... what have you done?" He asked, knowing full well they had cleaned out the offerings.

"Taking what belongs to us!" Pauly stated emphatically. "We are the poor thank you!" He continued as they trooped down the stairs... laughing all the way.

His guilt, pushed aside by the emotional turbulence of the past six months, raised its head, but using excuses of hard times and the reactions of society -- No one really cared -- he managed to will it back in its shell.

Stopping by a liquor store, Nicky used his fake ID to purchase a bottle of Muscatel. Then they walked to Astoria park, sat under the Hellgate Bridge, and drank the cheap wine. Throughout the night they toasted and incited their bravery and their plan for tomorrow's vengeance on the Jones Crew. Then the crew went home to warm, happy beds, and he, to a dimly lit hallway, where people walking their dogs stepped over him as he slept on the cold, hard, checkered tile floor...

At 4 a.m. he awoke and went through the neighborhood arousing the fellows. After acquiring some bagels, rolls, and milk from the front of the A&P Supermarket--deliveries were made at 4 am and left in front of the store--they feasted on their breakfast and headed for the dungeon.

There were nine guys in that hallway at school when Joe got beat up, they were six. The guys they were going to show a lesson to were bigger than Joe, but not his guys. They arrived at the school at 5 a.m., pried the bars off a window, broke the glass, and climbed through. Positioning themselves at the top and bottom of the exit stairwell landing, Joe entered the hallway and waited for the arrival of the Jones Brothers.

By 7 a.m. the school began filling up. Due to the fact the entrance and exit stairwells were separate, the crew remained hidden, patiently waiting for Joe's plan to begin.

Joe had never thought of racial issues before. He never used slang terms which were given to the various racial groups that made New York so rich in culture. In fact, his crew was composed of various ethnic backgrounds. But for the present, the situation required him to learn and say "new things". The bigots had arrived in his life and were demanding loyalties he would surrender to. The devil was in a bragging mood: triumphantly on his way to another victory.

"Hey, you ^%^&$%# $%%#$! Yea! You #$%^%$! Come and get a piece of this if you think you can!" Joe yelled through the crowded hallway at the group of gangsters whom had assembeled in a group..."

The Jones' Bothers took up the challenge and charged towards him... "Get the #$@$ing W.O.P. boy!" They yelled, as they turned the steam up.

He dashed for the exit stairwell and opened the door with determination. Giving the Motley Crew war chant "Ave' Ho!"--taken from the Ave' Maria sung in church! --he jumped down an entire landing, turned, and watched with glee as the Jones Crew entered the stair well unprepared for what was to be their greatest surprise!

The group rushed into the stairwell and down a flight of stairs before they had any clue they had been set up! As they scrambeled to gain position, they were greeted by a flurry of fists and pipes--the Motely Crew decimated the leadership of the Jones' Brothers crew....

Strutteding, heads high, chests inflated, gloriously down the hallway, commanding the respect of the "students" who parted way to allow plenty of room for the Motley Crew and its half-pint leader to swagger away!

The police were called in. Though no one received severe enough injury to require more than the attention he had received for his own injuries, the cry went out: WE MUST PUNISH THESE CRIMINALS!!

Their great educator, ego permanently damaged, waged a war to get Joe punished for his "transgression" upon his sacred right to abuse, humiliate, and embarrass anyone he chose.

Word of the revenge of the Motley Crew spread far and wide. As all stories go, by the time it hit the social workers and court system, they had killed, mutilated, and buried the entire school. They, the defenders of the just, had become perpetrators of the unjust.

Joe began once more to live on the streets and in empty apartments throughout the neighborhood. Smoking Marlboro reds and drinking rum and coke, he commanded respect where ever he went, backing it up with a fist or pipe. He began to discover bits and pieces of information on the various operations of the wiseguys whom occupied the neighborhood. He soon discovered many of the older associates treated him with a sort of special deference. Some talk of his father and other relatives trickeled down to him. He began to "pump" information in his desire to discover what had happened to his father. One guy in particular, an old man named Feranzi, took a special interest in him and Joe was proud of it. By his fourth month he had established a reputation for taking care of "business". Feranzi began sending wiseguys to him when they needed a car for a "job" or some windows broken. "Hey Joe, Feranzi sent me, we need a red, '62 Volkswagen... You get $100.00. Deliver it to Junior's place -- here's an advance of $50.00." Pauly would heist the cars, Donny deliver them. After a while it became easy. They dressed in fine clothes and always had money. Joe was even dating several girls, but one in particular caught his attention: Aggie McDonnald.

She had red hair, freckles, and a smile that lit up his world. Her family were Catholics whom converted to Fundamental Christianity. She would preach HIS GOSPEL all the time. The crew would get upset every time she was around. He was caught between this messenger of love and the hard facts of the street. Aggie provided a semblance of understanding and love: two items of his vocabulary which were constantly missing. How he met her was a story unto itself.

Early that spring, after performing his morning functions in the bathroom of the Shell gas station -- a place used to keep a toothbrush and comb -- on 21st St. And 21st Ave, he stepped out and into the bright sunny day. He immediately noticed a beautiful young lady in a desperate situation: A group of thugs had surrounded her, grabbing and harassing her. He approached this collection of free-booters and, as his education happened to be taught in the movie theaters of Steinway street and the libraries where he hung out while the crew was in school or at home, challenged these "Black Knights" to a duel in the proper way...

"Remove your hands from this lady!"