THE BEST NEIGHBOR OF ALL

My best neighbor of all time was also a king-pin.

He owned a construction company and hired convicts.

The idea was getting people out of prison and onto a better life.

To get started, and early release, they needed a job and place to live.

My neighbor made both available.

His awareness of the program came from his time behind bars.

He was a weed farmer back in the day along with being a framer.

His second grade kid’s teacher told class to bring something to school from daddy’s work for show and tell.

They brought a bag of weed and daddy went into the system.

Best Neighbor Crew

How many times do you get go observe a group of bad-asses from prison without going to prison?

I joined the group when my best neighbor had a party.

They were a rowdy group who did what guys always do: compete and show off.

One night they all decided to see who was the toughest of the tough.

For them this meant football.

One after another took a stance, put their hand down, and fired out into each other.

The crowd in the living room decided the outcome.

Not everyone agreed.

Since it was an elimination tournament it got down to the final few when one of them asked me why I wasn’t participating.

A Personal Invitation

Them: Why aren’t you playing?

Me: It’s fun watching.

Them: Are you afraid of ex-cons?

Me: Who’s an ex-con? No, I’m not afraid. You guys are having fun.

Them: Do you think you’re too good for us?

At the time I was 6’2″ and clocking in around 250 lbs.

And still springy.

I’ve been around threatening people before, and these guys were getting wound up.

Them: We’re all playing. Why not you?

Me: Okay. Let me get warmed up.

Them: What?

I did some stretching, deep breathing, huffing on the exhale, and faced off with the Purple Gang.

Since I played high school football on a losing team, and wrestled on a winning team, I knew my way around just fine.

My idea wasn’t to show the fellas a lesson as much as draw the line between football players and everyone else.

One of the guys took a position and waited for me, the room buzzing.

I took my spot, the starter said go, and I blasted the guy with both hands to his chest and rag-dolled him.

Then another guy stepped in and took a stance.

It was starting to feel like the Round-Robin of wrestling practice where one guy stays out on the mat which rested guys tried to take him down.

In other words I was in my comfort zone, though it had been awhile.

I ripped on the next guy, swam on the one after him, then did the foot-chopping steps waiting for the next, shifting right, center, left while staying in my stance.

What’s Up?

Them: What are you doing?

Me: Football. I’m doing football.

Them: That’s not football.

Me: It sure is football. It’s knock your dick in the dirt football, not grab-ass.

Them: Where’d you play, superstar.

Me: I was a North Bend God Damn Bulldog and we chewed the shit out of everything.

Them: Like you’re doing here.

Me: I said I didn’t want to play. But here we are. One more time. Who’s your best guy.

Their leader lined up and put a hand down. He looked ready.

We got the go sign and I jab-stepped a fake that he went for.

I caught him under his arm, trapped his other, and launched him into the guys watching then did my foot chopping left-right-center steps.

Was I showing off? Of course. For a group of ex-cons? Just helping them assimilate.

The last guy was pissed, said I held him. I told him it only counts when you get caught, and looked around the room for agreement.

Then I coached them up. Showed them angles and leverage and footwork.

Me: Do it like this and you’re playing football, not prison tickle ball.

Them: Let’s go again. Let’s do it.

Me: Nope, I’m going home, but you guys practice for next time.

Them: You can’t just leave.

Me: I’ve got a wife and kids tomorrow who need their old man at his best or I get my ass kicked.

Them: You can’t get your ass kicked by women and kids.

Me: All the time, brother. It’s called marriage and commitment and parenting.

Them: That’s not how we were raised.

Me: I believe it. Goodnight.

Crime Prevention With Best Neighbor

Because my neighbor was a king-pin, everyone showed respect.

He changed people’s lives for the better through hard work.

One of the side benefits was having the safest street in the state of Oregon.

I could have left my garage and front door open with the car running and keys on the seat and not worried about it.

Everyone needed my neighbor’s help and didn’t want to screw anything up, especially on his street.

His wife was as hardcore as any of them.

When I accidentally drove a big sliver under my fingernail I walked over to show it off. My finger hurt like hell and I went looking for sympathy.

Me: You ever seen anything this bad?

Wife: Yeah, my pussy hurts too.

My neighbor had had an accident on the job that day where a broken two X four stabbed him in the inner thigh.

He pulled the hunk of wood out, duct taped the wound and finished the day. He walked out to look at my finger.

Him: Looks bad. Worse than this?

He pulled up his shorts leg to show discolored flesh and blood.

Me: You ought to get that looked at and stitched up.

Him: Not the first time it’s happened. I got doctored up on the job.

Me: Keep on eye on it.

Him: You too.

I went home and my wife pulled the sliver out.

Wife: This looks bad.

Me: I thought so.