He was the first person my age to tell me to grow up. I was 17 and hadn’t lived in the neighborhood for two years, but would come back to do dirt every chance I could. When my mother was working, I would take the same bus I took when I was younger to go to suburban schools and head to Al Davies Boys and Girls club to find places to drink, pop pills, chill with old homies, and wild the fuck out when they didn’t want to remember the good times. People had tolerated me; some even felt sympathy because they had heard the rumors that my grandmother had died from my father’s hand, with the Police didn’t give enough of a fuck to…