Lessons

Old Man Bianco his vocal voice
stripped of all it's octave choice
creaked and crowed in age and vice
"Liquor, tobacco, you pay the price!"

After he was released from the "hospital" Joe discovered that he had a "Father Figure" -- courtesy of "Tough Joe Pag": He owned the bar (The Cheetah Lounge in Queens, New York.) where Jeanette worked. His mother started dating him while he was being "evaluated". She had not married him -- though he acted like she did! Tough Joe had him released into his custody. The stipulations which accompanied his release were that he obey him and receive counseling from the Catholic Church... Everyday.

Joe picked him up from the hospital in a new blue Cadillac. While he drove, he used a cigar as a pointer to drill his message home: "Youse can't treat your mudder that way -- youse cost me a lot of dough. You cause any mo' $%#$ an I'll kick your butts! Your fa'der wid be ashamed of your antics. I knew 'im well. Ya gonna straighten out and gid wid da program!"

Responsible for engineering his "counseling" at the Immaculate Conception Church in Queens, he was determined to turn him into his spitting image--complete with vocabulary-- while punishing him for Salvatori "Sally" Donateli's loss. It seemed that "Sally" owned the resort that burned down and Joe Pag was his best friend. Joe Pag informed the priest that Joe needed "counseling" to save his soul--then promptly donated a gift of $500.00 to the Rectory Renovation Fund. After two months of "assistance": "That is not how you handle this situation, give him your hand! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!", Joe was determined to wake up from the nightmare that began that rainy Easter Sunday so long, long ago!

At eleven years of age, Rocky had journeyed a life time, his small brain packed to capacity with hardship and it's loyal companions, hopes and dreams....

The first opportunity he got, he ran away...

Harry, at first the going was difficult. Joe slept in hallways. The top floor landing next to the roof door was the best, especially if the building's boiler chimney ran along side the outside wall where heat would generate through the wall! The only problem with this scenario was the fact that one would have to turn constantly all night, like a rotisserie, warming each portion of the body by placing it in contact with the heated wall! He ate his meals by roaming the A&P super market and eating as he went... until he was caught and turned over to Ball and Jolly...

His clothing ragged and worn, eyes darting about in terror, an un-eaten portion of bread squeezed into a dough ball in his hand, dripping melted snow and mudd to stream in a trail of torn and pilfered packages!

.... "Sonny, is your mother in the store?"

Silence, head cast down, mind clicking like a two dollar slot machine: pictures; images; revolving with no end...nor prize...

...his hand is grabbed with out protest and he's dragged to the office...

Once there, nose running, face red with shame... the questions continue...

"Where do you live? Who do I call to pay for all of this? Let's see... Chocolate chip cookies, one missing... Potato chips, a hand full... One loaf of Italian bread, the end..."

"I'm sorry sonny but I'm going to have to call the police..."

Swaggering through the door, their stoic faces unmask: "Well looky here! Yummy Yummy!" -- child eating giants who prefer children named Joe of deceased gangsters!

The car pulls into an alley way. Doors open and slam shut. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch goes the snow under heavy booted feet of long legged dragons to be compressed into sheets of thin, dark ice. Clung! The back door opens. Blue clothed arms reach into the interior, snatch him out. Whap! The blow catches his face tumbling him to the ground...

Voices... Hazy.. A mist of confusion... Jig sawed words.. Yo.. think you ar.. your fath.. I'll...

Wap! Stars explode... deep red flashes of light move in tune to the choppy language confusing his mind... Dizzy... Speak! He commands his paralized mind...

Bang! Wop! Boom!

Sounds and grunts wafting the air.. ...strange ringing ...pounding.. A surf.. SMACK!!

'Why's the sea caught between my ears'...

Bang! The numbness is knocked from his ears... A radio is blaring it's voice in emergency.

'The Giants... The Blue clothed monsters... They're turning!...A voice commands... demands... 'RUN!!!'

He rolls and scoots the alley...

Behind him... crunching sounds in rapid sequence.. Louder!... Closer!

'Don't look back... you might turn to stone or something.' The voice screams.

Willing his feet to move...

'You have to reach the alley through-way under the building'...

"STOP! STOP!" Shouts pierce his concentration...

'You must reach the steps that will take you under the building and to the other side where the alley divides into ten more! You've got to make it'...

A slip on the stairs.....tumbling through garbage cans, full... stacked... blocking the entrance...

'But look! There's day light ahead! Forget the bleeding leg!' The voice informs.

"STOP! HALT! WHEN I GET..."

'Climb the cans! Climb the cans!' ...

Ankle bruised.. I feel pain.. I feel pain..

'The pain will keeps you going! .. Feel the pain.. Scurry right.. Turn left... Go straight... Turn right... Breath on fire.... KEEP RUNNING THEY'RE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!'

Is that an empty apartment? There on the second floor of the Marine Terrace Apartments?

'Wonder why they call it Marine Terrace... it's a dump! Along the wall.. Go along the wall.. Hide your prints along the wall! Up the stairs! On the roof! Over the roof! Down the side .. Jump! Jump!' The voice demands.

IT'S TO HIGH

...'You gotta jump! ... JUMP!'

...jumping on to the fire escape landing ...scurrying down two flights...

'Break the window! Fall into the apartment... FALL!'

Holding his breath..... Peaking through the corner of the window...

"Where the heck did he go? See any foot prints in the snow?"

"@#$# NO!"

Harry, if your wondering about Jeanette and the family, they were worried, but the rumors of Joe here and there led them to believe that either the police or Joe Pag would find him or he would come home eventually--at least he was alive. In fact Joe Pag continued to inform Jeanette he had the situation under control; that he would bring Joe home; that Joe needed to spend some time on the streets for his own good. You see, Jeanette began dating Joseph "Tough Joe Pag" Pagerelli when Joe was in the hospital believing a man in the house would get Joe released... and keep him home. Well, he had been released...released to the streets....

From hiding in white and black checkered hallways that dotted Joe's lonely landscape like craters of a cold and dusty moonscape, to living in abandoned apartments, unquestionably became a step up--giving Joe a sense of safety.

Marine Terrace was composed of series of connecting three story buildings, each with underground alleys and innterconnecting fire-escapes. Perfect for eluding anyone or thing in a moments notice. The area he chose began at the corner of the East River and Con-Ed power plant and ended at the corners of 21 Avenue and 21 Street. Joe soon discovered he could simply turn the power and gas on in the basement of each building. Using the gas stoves, Joe soon set up "mobile" homes throughout the neighborhood; alternating between them at whim and danger. During the day he seldom left his secure hide-outs, and when he did it was in the cover of the maze of alley ways and hallways. By the time anyeone figured an apartment was being used he'd have switched to another. In an emergency he could always pick a hallway. Through various activities he became an expert at knowing when an apartment he had commandeered was about to be rented or one would soon be available. A constant problem remained nourishment. He spent most of the time he was not scavenging reviewing what he had eaten the previous day:

"Lets see, two spoonfuls of ketchup, one stale piece of bread."

"Didn't the teacher say we needed two glasses of milk a day?"

"Well, I'll drink half a glass of the stuff I got from the milk box of the Sweeny family."

"Left two bottles, should have taken another"

"Naw, I shouldn't!"

"Nice of them to share... I know they would not mind?"

"I'll make up for drinking only half a glass by getting another bottle tomorrow!"

Though an occasional quest to an out lying food store or a raid on the early morning deliveries to the major neighborhood grocery store delivered extra goodies, the bulk of his rations he received through explorations on newly emptied apartments before clean up crews arrived. It was one such raid which ultimatly delivered his first personal exposure to hard liquor and cigerettes: The apartment had been abandoned after a raid by the police. Joe had been keeping an eye on it after a group of men came in the middle of the night and emptied it's contents of all furniture and valuables. After three weeks had passed and only trash remained, Joe climbed the fire-escape, placed a towel on the window pain next to the lock, and with a quick and solid blow, knocked a hole in the glass without a sound. After turning the catch, he climbed through and began rumaging through the garbage scattered through out the four rooms. It was not long before he discovered four bottles of Vodka and a carton of Marlboro cigerettes. He wound up smoking the cigerettes and consuming the Vodka to "releave the boredom and to prove his belief that he had become a man"... even though he got so sick he could not move for two days!

Chapter seven: Harry, Spotford was terrible...

The Green Grass

Gaby the Gator lived in a swamp.
in the muddy water he liked to romp
catching daddy crawfish for diner he would
rather eat a pizza if only he could.
Gaby the Gator slept in the dark
wish he had a light so he could mark
all the things he wanted from a magazine
A basket ball! A dolly! A nintendo machine!
Gaby the Gator dressed in gator hide
must be something better he'd confide
I'd rather have nikes or rebokes instead
to place underneath my own waterbed.
Gaby the Gator had a boring day
sitting around with no one to play
should I watch the sunset into the trees?
boy I wish I had my own color TV!
Gaby the Gator moved into a home
away from the swamp he felt so all alone
even with his sneakers and his waterbed
Gaby the Gator missed the life he had led!!!

"Hey, Man! Whachoo doin in here!"

"Nothing."

"Watch you mean nothin', he asked you a question!"

"Go fly a $#%$%^$# kite or something!"

"Wham." Stars exploded...

Spotford Detention Center was a cold, hard, wake up call: A place that would forever influence Joe's life as a youth. Later, when ever he was stopped by the police during his journeys, he would not tell who he was or his real age less he be returned... He learned it was better to lie and goe to a jail for things like vagrancy rather then risk return to a place like Spotford...

A bleak, drab, overcrowded building with huge walls and tons of chain link and barbed wire, Spotford was divided into sections containing dormitories and rooms secured with steel doors and wire reinforced windows. Run by "Supervisors"-- whom seemed in reality ex-Spotford inmates--Spotford relied on the trustee system to keep order.

The power and command of the Trustee system abounded. Nothing was accomplished without their approval and assistance. And, in order to protect themselves and control the super-violent inmates, Supervisors chose most of the Trustees from the most hard-core inmates. They were given the day to day chore of keeping every one else in line. A typical morning would begin with a homosexual rape of some child whom could not take care of himself: muffled moans would signal the dawn. Then: "On your feet! On your feet! Make your beds! Make Your beds! YOU GOT TWO MINUTES! ON YOUR FEET! TWO MINUTES TO CHOW!..."

The inmates, whom averaged twelve to fifteen years of age, would scramble to make their beds, tight, marine core style: "Flop" the trustee would flip his quarter, yell, smack, kick, and tear the bed apart... Then, as he ate your breakfast, you scrubbed the floors with a piece of cloth five inches square... The military chores were not the problem, the trustee system was: No matter how well you did your job, unless you payed them off with sex, violence, cigarettes or food, you stay would be violent.

"LINE UP, TOE TO HEEL! EYES FORWARD, HANDS AT THE SIDE AND OFF THE ASS! DON'T LET ME FIND YOU PLAYING WITH SOMEONE'S BUNS! DON'T MOVE YOUR FEET OR YOU LOSE YOUR SEAT!

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT! HUH! MR. FANCY ASS! WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT! TRUSTEE!"

"YES SIR."

"TAKE FANCY ASS TO THE SHOWER ROOM!..."

The shower room was the worst. The shower room meant being stripped searched and "spanked" --Beaten would be the word. Next time Mr. Supervisor said: "EYES FORWARD" you better believe your eyes would be forward....

Much grabbing, shoving, and sexual horse play would accompany the inmates on their way to the chow hall. And it was here, at the tables, that trustees decided and traded their prey. It was here that trustees made their moves.

"Gime yo breakfast pretty boy!"

Now, if you were intimidated and allowed him to take your "munch", he would take your lunch..and then...

After chow, they would return and begin clean up: Wash; Scrub; Wash; Rinse; Hand Hard Wax; Hand and Foot buff...

Then they would be given a smoke break--The State of New York felt each child could smoke if their parents signed a consent! Cigarettes therefor became the main cause of retribution and intrigue. Trustees traded human beings for smokes: both were a commodity. After the smoke break, they would go to a school room....

Literacy was not on the agenda... formal education consisted of a "street education: Breaking into homes and businesses; Stealing cars; What booze was best; Sex; Perversion; Mugging; How to cause the most damage to the body when getting even; Gambling--usually then "teacher", whom was a supervisor with a new hat, would play cards with trustees while others were molesting the weak in the bathrooms.

Lunch time... the scene repeated.....

Dinner time... the scene repeated.

Two things were assured in Spotford, the first was clean, shiny floors; the other, fear and misery...

At night, after dinner and clean up, they would be given one hour to watch TV, play pool, or play a few hands of cards. Bets, using the cigerettes and the weak as collateral, were placed with out care nor interruption.

Then, to the dorms--or rooms if you were a trustee!

The worst fear was the dormitory at night. The supervisor made his rounds three times a night... and every one knew the times, and, more than none, Supervisors usually slept the nights--agony--away!

It was during this time that the homosexual attacks occurred with the frequency of the clocks ticks. The grunts of the strong and moans of the weak were horrifying. No one dared "inform" on a trustee or his "friends" whom were part of the team. Many a cracked head, swollen eye--even attempted suicide--were testament of the perversion and trepidation that ruled the night.

Once, every two days, the "yard" would be opened and basketball, cards, and more degradation would be practiced...

Joe's eighth day brought more of the same: "Yo, gime your dessert!"

Through his bruised and blackened eye, Joe viewed the demented, scowling white face with terror, hope, and joy... all at the same time! He really understood Bernie now. For the past week, while he faced the terror of the thought of what these angry people could do to him, he had hope that if he gave up his food he could avoid the reality of that thought--and it was with joy that he did! But today, while in line, he saw the trustee whom had hit him and taken the majority of his meals huddeled in a group pointing towards him. And when they whistled at him -- laughing and slapping each other on the back while they grabbed themselves -- as he moved along the serving line, he was sure they had a greater request of him!

"HEY, WHITE BOY, GIVE ME YOUR ^&*&^%$# DESSERT! YOUR SWEET BUNS! COME ON, TO THE SHOWER!" Energy, hateful and determined, flashed in angry vibes from the trustee's very pores.

"YOU HEAR HIM PUNK? HE SAID GIVE HIM YOUR %$%^&^% SWEET BUNS! GET UP AND GO TO THE SHOWER!" Another added.

How many times would he have to fear? How many times would he be tempted to cry? When would this awful nightmare end? Hands trembling, emotions tearing so loudly one could smell the fear that oozed from his very pores, Joe vowed he would be dead before he would concede to him! Summoning an extraordinary strength, a spiritual strength whose origins would remain a mystery to him for many years, Joe's swollen lips parted and the sound of four years of rage tore through the two hundred inmates whom were seated in the chow hall-- sweeping silent the unending echoes that pervaded the institution : "ARRAUG HHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

In that instant of astonished silence, Joe leapt the table, clearing the heads of inmates seated next and across from him, he sailed the awe struck inmates surrounding him. His hand shot down, snatched a steel tray, and, in coming down on the opposite side of the table, rammed it down on top of the six foot trustee....

The trustee was bewildered in his disbelief... the tray crashed over his head, dropping him where he had previously stood. And then, twisting as in one practiced movement, he tore at the "trustee" table in revenge for all of those young men whom had been abused, violated, and tormented. By the time anyone could react, he had struck three more...

"Yo, chow bro." The familiar voice rumbled through the small sliding door.

Reaching down, Joe pulled the tray into the interior of the five by four "ice cell".

"Thanks, man," he said with sincerity.

"Hey, I heard they were gonna let you out next week. Your mother's picking you up. Listen, many of the guys are proud of what you did. I'm getting out today. When your released, come by Astoria park, under the Hell Gate Bridge.. ..where the trees are. You know... next to the doors... Remember my name: Paul Wheate... "

After the rumble in the chow hall--a rumble may I say Harry, that was joined by several "good" trustees and a multitude of inmates -- Joe was hustled to the "ICE CELL".

The ice cell was a 5x4 foot cell of concrete. No bed. No nothing. They took your clothing and you were put naked in the cell. Total, cold, darkness greeted you twenty four hours a day. He had been on ice for four weeks. The trusty--Paul Wheate--whom delivered his once daily meal was from his neighborhood, his brother an associate mobster. He invited him to meet with him and his friends when he got out.

"A friend! At last, my first friend!" Joe was elated...

Hanging out with a "crew" composed of younger brothers of established street hoods: Developing into father's spitting image.

The crew consisted of Joe and six other guys: Donny and Danny Lendahan, Paul Wheate, Nicky the Greek, Pete, and Crazy Eddy...

Paul "Pauly" Wheate--the individual whom met Joe in Spotford--introduced Joe to the crew. Joe's reputation had preceded him, but it was Pauly's interpretation and broadcasting of that reputation which afforded him instant acknowledgment. Pauly was blonde, powerful in build, and daring. Of German and Italian descent, he was the crews "locator" and driver. He would find cars to steal, plan "jobs", and assist in settling disputes. He became Joe's closest and most loyal comrade.

Donny and Danny, younger twin brothers of Jimmy--whose reputation as a street brawler inspired all of these "young punks"--were as opposite as day and night. Donny, a macho Beatle wanna be, complete with hair cut and boots, had a habit of singing the Beatle's most popular tunes: I wanna hold your hand; Michelle; I love you, Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! In an out of tune, deep, monotone voice, crooning with determined and serious facial expressions, he would seek the accolades he felt he deserved... only to receive the lambasting we felt he deserved -- which never even dampened his enthusiasm for "singing". Donny was loyal and always ready for action. One could count on him, even when it was just you and he facing down twenty thugs! On the other hand, his brother Danny, a gentle, quiet, serious person with a tendency to act in an effeminate manner, was prone to disagree with the collective thoughts of the click. Always arguing the reasons why they should not do something, but never offering an alternative, was not so popular.

Nicholous Aphrodopolus, or better called "Nicky the Greek", was a huge giant of a youth. He could pick up an individual that weighed in at 150 pounds with one large meaty hand! Bright and trustworthy, he and his family had recently immigrated to the States from Greece. As loyal as one could be, he had the personality of a Saint Bernard: very protective and a true follower. The only English speaking member of his extensive Greek immigrant family, he was overly protected by them; it became a vocation just to come up with excuses for him to join them everyday --but they would manage it.

Crazy Eddie was something else. Born with a growth handicap, his body had remained four foot four while his arms had grown extra-normal: almost touching the ground! He had huge amounts of body and facial hair and his voice box was misshapen causing his speach to be barely comprehensible to anyone but his close friends, family, and the crew. His greatest asset was his ability to rumble and get away from the police by pretending to be crazy! That is how he recieved the moniker "Crazy"--the law classified him as deranged.

The final player on this dream team of independence was Big Pete. Big Pete was a mentaly handicapped and gullible Puerto Rican--easily manipulated:

Standing across the street from Ditmars Boulevard's most famous jeweler, street stuffed from road to buildings with holiday shoppers, cars and delivery trucks packing the street two and three deep, the crew wondering where their "next Score" would come from.....

"Ah, man, your #$%$#$% wrong. He will do it! I know... Pete's got heart!" Joe says out loud-- acting as if he is defending a mute question.

Paul picks up on it immediately: "Let me tell you, he ain't cool man. He ain't got any heart!"

"Listen, he will do it;. he's a cool cat, man. Pete is the guy with the largest @#$# of anyone of you! Joe cuts in... while Pete listens intently!

"Hey, Pete. You know what Pauly said..." Donny whispers.

"No. What did Pauly say?"

"That you couldn't run over to that jewelry shop, break the window, and grab those jewels and watches in the window..." Joe interjects.

"Oh yea?...." He tears across the street -- in broad day light -- smashes the window, grabs two handfuls of jewelry, and scoots through the crowded streets towards the East River and safety.

Later, the crew meets behind Bernie and Yetta's Candy Store....

"Hey Pete, that was bad man... real bad. You got it, man. Your a man of respect even if you're a Puerto Rican!"

"I did it, didn't I... I did it. I'm cool. I'm bad! I could be Italian, couldn't I?"

"Yea, but listen... we gota hide the stuff! We got to stash it until the heat dies down... What about them rocks over there?" Joe says pointing to a group of rocks by the wall.

They bury the jewelry and everyone goes home to "hit the mattresses" and hide out until the following day.... Joe and Pauly sneak behind Bernies and remove the jewels. They immediately go to Papa Joe's.

"Hey, Papa Joe! We got some swag that will knock your socks off. A heist from Ditmars Jewelers! Class stuff. Real merchandise! The ladies will flock to tick your clock for a piece of this here stuff!" Pauly shouts as they strut into the small and oily hot, grease specked "joint".

Papa Joe, a "he's with us" guy, big, fat, in Guinea tee and chefs hat, sweat pouring from every pore of his body, cigar stub--the same one he has been chewing on for the last week--jutting from the corner of his mouth, snatches a few pieces of the "stuff", gives it a glance, and declares: "Dis stuff's paste! Not worth the air youse guys jus' polooted my joint wid!"

"Your full of %^%^! This stuffs the genuine article! We know... we snatched the frigging loot!" Joe snaps back.

"Youse guys ought ta watch ya mouds in dis respectible joint. Wad wood da custumer's sayz... Huh? I'll giv ya four large an' a pissa a day fa two weeks..."

"Ah, you can do betta dan dat dere offer." Pauly says, imitating Papa Joe.

"OK... youse guys got me. I'll give ya seven big ones and five pissa... an dat's my final offa..."

The next day, the entire crew meet at Bernies... "Hey, the stuffs not where we put it!" An excited Pete yells.

"Hey, Pauly, was that James Kirt that you seen when we were leaving?" Joe yells. (Harry, James was a guy whom the crew believed was informing on them. He was their enemy. But, do to his imposing connections with the law, neither Joe nor Pauly could deal their retribution. They decided to leave him alone until they could figure a way to deal with him... and Joe had found a way!)

"Yea! That's who took our stuff... and after all Pete's bravery!" Paul replied.

"Hey Pete! You gonna let James get away with our stuff?" Danny called over.

"Hell no! I'm gonna go and find him..."

After Pete had found the "thief" and whooped his butt, James decided to hide out for the next five months...

"Hey Pete. Great job! Your the enforcer now! Yes. You deserve to be paid by the crew... we, Danny, Donny, Nicky, Crazy Eddy, and Pauly have taken up a collection. It happens to be part of our war chest... but you deserve it!" Joe said as he handed Pete a brand new, crisp one-hundred dollar bill.

Pete had tears in his eyes. He refused the money but, after the guys convinced him it had been worth the "sacrifice" to see James put in his place, Pete excepted.

"Hey, Pete. Lets go to Popa Joe's and I'll buy us a pizza!

The crew yelled their war chant and proceeded to go and pig-out on the pizza Joe was gonna "buy".

Harry, it was events such as this that demonstrated Joe's thought, intrigue, and connivance. His past lessons were coming to the fore through control and command: He had not only rid the crew of it's enemy, but had given Pete his fair share disguised as a gift--a gift which would deliver the crew their own enforcer... whom would be used on many occasions. The crews daily routine was simple. On week days after school, they would meet behind Bernies' and roam the surrounding neighborhoods planning and scheming until they made a score--then they would plan the evening's entertainment.

On weekends they would spend the days shoplifting. Basically, two of their crew would enter a store on Steinway street--made famous by Steinway Pianos--and act like they were fighting. When the manager tried to break it up, the rest of the crew would storm the door and heist what ever they could; in the confusion, everyone would get away and meet at Papa Joe's Pizza Parlor on 21st St. And 21nd Ave. in Astoria, Queens. Papa Joe would buy whatever they had. They'd take the money, divide it up, and sneak into the movie theater with their girls.

Harry movies became more than entertainment for Joe--they were a great part of his education! Each picture show brought to him views of the world -- past and present. Where mobster movies reinforced his father's traditional views, shows like BEN HUR, SPARTICUS, GONE WITH THE WIND, THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, THE KING AND I, GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER, ROBINHOOD, BOYS TOWN, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE, KING ARTHUR, planted seeds which would eventually change his basic views of life. After each movie, his guys would find him in the library reading about the characters, times, and countries of the show's contents: Swashbucklers; Cowboys; Indians; Romans; Russians; Greeks; Napoleon; Alexander The Great; The French Revolution... They were his fascination... His heroes... His dreams...

Joe soon became torn between what he saw and read and what they saw and did! What initially began as a simple plea for friendship, a cry for attention, a need for a father figure, developed into a desire to be accepted. The crew was already established before he arrived, but by the end of three months and several fist fights, he had assumed leadership of this group of wannabes. He named them The Motley Crew--from his last adventure. He was soon hanging more and more.

They would show up at school, leave after roll call, and meet at the Church. It was in the majestic atrium of the Lord that they met, not to worship, but to plan their days events...

Harry, organized religion represented poverty, sorrow and loneliness to Joe. He could not comprehend it's message. To him, the individuals associated with the church were the same people whom were part of the system. Though he maintained a direct line with Jesus, confusion alternating with lucid reality kept him either on the ropes or in the thick of battle. The family priest had recently told Jeanette that "victory was waiting on the wings of an Angel, an Angel that was slow in coming, waiting for the opportune perfected moment to release the angers, pains, and realities of his existence".

"In other words", Jeanette had commented in agreement, "when he is truly ready."