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Shattered Dreams


            It was October of 1981 and I was a fifteen-year-old boy living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with our mother, "Alice", and my two brothers Robert and Ralph. We were typical working blue-collar family. There were no frills and no extras, only the necessary items in the house to survive. The clothing we wore was second hand and it would take the holidays and holes in the bottom of our shoes to get a new pair. We lived in a medium size apartment with three bedrooms, it was old but warm in the winter. I had to share almost everything with my younger brother, from the bed in our room to the clothes on my back. .
             I was an average kid going to parochial school and participating in after school sports. The only reason we even got to parochial school was that our grandparents helped to subsidize our mother's income. Yes, when it came to finances; we were definitely in the lower bracket. .
             When it came to academics, I was sub-par to say the least but when it came to track and field, I was superior. I had been running organized track for the past three years and I was coming off one of my best performances. Of course, the family would never attend any of the track meets I raced in, but they were always interested in the stories I had to tell and how well I did. When I"d come home from a track meet and showed them the 1st place blue ribbon I had just won, my mother would gave me a great big hug; the kind that would squish my head and make my face turn red due to lack of blood circulation. Then she would place the blue ribbon on the mantle above the television. My two brothers would crack jokes about my accomplishment and shrug it off as if it was no big deal. .
             Us boys had little guidance while growing up. We did not receive the family style talks and advice middle class families have with their children. Most of what we learned came from either the streets or the television. We, like any other high school kid, would do the things that kids do.


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