DECISIONS THAT MARKED MY PAST, MY PRESENT, MY FUTURE

July 22nd, 1981. Another great day for Rosa Iris, my mother. In the delivery room her whimpers of suffering could be heard, while she gave birth to another son into the world.

A son perhaps not planned, but loved. Apparently in a time devoid of internet and other things to entertain. My parents couldn't find what else to do. 

We are a big family. Six siblings from the same parents, which I didn't know was a privilege until that moment. I can only imagine the pain and screaming my mother had to go through, for me to be here today. 

This is precisely what I want to do in this book: I want to make the memories of my life known.

I do not plan to ask my family every detail of my childhood and then write it down here. Everything must come from what I remember living through or moments that my loved ones have told me about.

I may miss some details, but it will all be genuine. I believe that, during this reading, we will laugh about the things I have experienced. Every moment has been important. Good moments, some not so good, some sad, full of suspense and even fear, that have changed my life and made a difference.

This is how I was welcomed into the Feliciano Rodriguez family. I was named Wilfredo, the name of my beloved father. I have a sister named Blanca Teresa whom we call "Beba" by affection. She was named Blanca because that is the name of our maternal grandmother and Teresa because that is the name of our paternal grandmother.

I have a little brother named Daneil. He is my mother's most spoiled son, not because he is the youngest, but because he is the most attached to her. Even today, as an adult, he still is. Every mother has a son who is attached to her and does not let go of her at all, that is "Braun", as we call him affectionately.

This nickname was given to him after a problem occurred in the drug point of the Cobadonga Residence in Trujillo Alto, because my brother was seen naked and, as his butt was brown, he was nicknamed Daneil "Braun's butt". I have to clarify that "butt" is not the exact word they call him, but I use that one because I don't want to offend anyone. 

This is the family with the most beautiful mother in the world and the most beloved father. Each of us are the most beloved children of this couple. 

I don't know at what point it happened, but at some point, my parents got divorced and my mother was left in charge of all of us. I believe this happened when we lived in the great Barrio de las Monjas in Hato Rey.

This neighborhood was very dangerous. Shootings and murders were a daily basis. 

That was the place where we lived, in the lion's den, almost like many others back then, and even today. Surviving every day to the violence of the neighborhoods and public residential or neighborhood. 

In these places one only survives by staying focused on plans for the future, but not everyone is as lucky. You had to learn. You had to do your best, especially after seeing a single mother, who dedicated herself to love, care and educate her 6 children against what they saw and heard every day in that place full of joy, but also of evil.

Living in a dangerous neighborhood or community is not easy, especially for those who have families, but this happens all the time. Poverty forces many to stay there, in order to try to overcome adversity and get ahead.

Of course, I see that now that I am an adult, but that does not change the fact that it is a constant reality for many people. 

Of all those who live in these conditions, we must give greater merit to the mothers, because no matter what, they struggle so that their sons and daughters receive the necessary education and can move forward, becoming profitable people. All this so that they do not let themselves be dragged down by the current of the place and manage to leave in time and build something different.

This way, they can avoid getting involved in things that seem good, prosperous and even blessings, but in reality in the end only bring sadness and pain for everyone. 

Many of those who managed to survive this environment, did so thanks to God's mercy, because, instead of falling under the bullets, they fell into prison where God uses that difficult moment to call their attention and make them come to their senses.

Some listen and others do not, but this is better than losing your life fighting for things that do not benefit anyone.

It is very strong the pain that is experienced because of the ignorance of recognizing the true consequences of living this way, making wrong decisions.

Part of this is what I want to share with all of you. I want you to know the realities that many of us had to face in a world full of happiness, but also of evil.

Each of us strive to seek the best for all the people we love. This has also been tried by our parents, even animals have this instinct, granted by God through his grace.

The problem is not that we want to do something good for ourselves and the family. The problem is in what we are taught to achieve that.

Many think that talking about it is the solution, but in my opinion, it is not. If we want to see a real change, we have to teach them words and actions as an example, but above all support and help. Help goes hand in hand with words and actions, otherwise everything will be incomplete.

Bearing all this in mind, I ask you, with an open mind, to read carefully about my life, every road, curve and drop. Learn from my experiences without having to go through them. Even so, I know that my story has aspects that, as you read them, you will notice that there are parts that are the same or similar to the stories of many others.

But this is due to the fact of life itself and the way we live in this country. My intention is to motivate you to be open and flexible with each other, to learn together to love, respect and care for each other. Keeping away from deceit, hatred, resentment, envy and revenge, which have destroyed so many families and friendships. Everything that contaminated our good intentions.

Everyone has gone through this or something similar, whether poor or rich people, we all live in the same world, full of goodness and evil. We have all deceived ourselves and ourselves. We have all allowed life to deceive us at some point, we all need a guide.

Personally, I thank God for all that He does in my life, but most of all for allowing me to know Him and His son Jesus Christ. Since Jesus saved me, I have begun to see and experience things differently, and even in difficult times.

I know that these things happen because God allows them to strengthen me to become who I am meant to be. Maybe my life did not begin as it should have, but in the midst of it all I have learned that for those who trust in Him, all things work for good, because I am in good hands.

Maybe having a vision of the future is better than having no vision at all, I don't know. But I do know that, during my childhood, my visions for the future were very short. Remembering them makes me laugh, but other times they make me cry, because they bring back memories of the experiences I have had. 

Memories like the one I have now, of a day I was walking with a cousin in an alley in the Barrio de las Monjas in Hato Rey. "Prieto" as we used to call my cousin, was showing me everything there was in that place. 

This was very important, because my cousin at that time, was like a guide for me. I liked his crazy things and his way of saying things. He was very restless, always doing everything. I compare him a lot to my younger brother Daneil.

My cousin and I walked all over the place exploring the neighborhood. I remember that, between the alleys, there were many metal beams from one side to the other. 

Prieto wanted to show me a trick, so he climbed on one of the pipes and, using his legs, hung from it as if he were a monkey. I thought it was dangerous, but great at the same time. I have always been very careful about what I do with my body, my health is very important to me. 

For that reason I was very nervous to see him swinging with his legs on the tube, as I knew he was in danger of hitting his head.

I insisted several times that he should get off, but he didn't listen to me, instead he told me to climb up with him. No way did I listen to him. This is the kind of thing my little brother Daneil would dare to do, but not me. 

I kept insisting that he get off, until he did. To my surprise, he somersaulted and landed on his feet. I have to admit that was amazing. 

I remember well what he said to me when he fell, "Cousin, don't be afraid. It's fun."

After that, we kept walking down the alley on 7th Street in the neighborhood. I just followed him closely, watching everything very carefully. The alleys were small, weird and narrow. Everything looked very scary, scary, at least for a kid my age back then.

Still, curiosity motivated me to keep walking and exploring. I remember that near my dad's house, on a second floor, there was a barbershop. That was where everyone in the neighborhood went to get their hair done. It was a side parting hairstyle, which we called "lambida de vaca."

It's nostalgic to think about that, I wish I could relive it back. The funny thing is that, in those days, I did not want to be one of those who followed the fashion. 

At the end of one of the alleys, there was a store where they sold liquor and everyone gathered to drink, smoke, play dominoes, billiards and listen to music.

Prieto saw one of the gentlemen drinking his beer and enjoying his cigarette. He approached his table and asked him for a peseta to play on the video game machines that were in the place. The truth is that I do not remember the name of that gentleman, but I will tell him Pancho, a common nickname in Puerto Rico.

Pancho stared at my cousin very seriously for a few seconds, it seemed that he was not going to give him anything. Until, suddenly, he put his hand in his pocket, took out a coin and gave it to him. I think he felt sorry for him, because as he gave him the coin, he said, "Here, kid, but don't ask me for another one. If you want money, get to work, you're a big boy now."

In the end, I was just impressed because he had managed to get me to give him a coin.

My happy cousin called me to go to the machine, the bad thing is that he was the one who started to play and I did not. I just watched him play the fighting game.

Although, at that time, watching him play was enough for me. Besides, it helped me get out of my aunts' house for a while. 

I love them, but an adventure outside with my cousin was awesome, at least at the time, but I'll tell you why I say that later.

A while later, my cousin lost the fighting game and annoyingly told me to leave. I just nodded my head and we both left. 

As I was leaving, I kept looking around the inside of the place. Older people were drinking together enjoying a while, after a long day of work. Well, I didn't know that at the time, but now as an adult and as someone who has done it too, I think they were just looking for a time of happiness and peace, but they ended up intoxicated. Overpowered by alcohol. 

They would fall asleep or do things against their friends and family, or against someone else's friends and family. All these problems because of alcohol.

Suddenly, my cousin called me again and I hurried to where he was. He was looking down the road, to see if any cars were coming. That was the main road behind the neighborhood.

I did not know why he wanted to cross the road, but I still followed him.

Suddenly, when my cousin noticed that no cars were passing, he ran out, yelling at me to run after him too.

Thank God nothing happened to us. At the time I thought it was funny, but not now, because I recognize how dangerous it was to cross the street that way. 

When we were on the other side, we continued walking along the llerva, near some houses that were around there. My cousin seemed to know the whole place.

He was walking very quietly, kicking some cans nearby. I followed him, imitating everything he did. It wasn't that he was imitating absolutely everything, but at that moment, kicking cans looked like a lot of fun.

Until, suddenly, he stood in front of a large metal mesh gate, which marked the boundary of a large lot, of a humble but very nice house. 

He started to call out to someone, but that person did not come out. I stood there watching what was going on, when my cousin opened the gate and said to me, "See they don't hear us," "but, what if, they are not there?" I asked, but he pointed to the house and answered, "Look, the gate is open, they must be inside and that's why they don't hear us."

I didn't say anything else to him, but I stood there watching a metal thing go up, while my cousin pushed the gate to the right. I think it was a counterweight, to keep it shut tight.

Prieto opened the gate just enough for me to get in and then he did. Then he went in as if nothing had happened, but I stood on some small steps at the entrance.

All around the house were old cars and pieces of wood. But what you could see the most was the grass, which was very tall, it looked like it had never been cut. 

All this was very scary for me. To top it all off, a gray and white dog came out from between the cars. When I saw it, I got very scared and wanted to run away, but out of fear, I stayed still.

Suddenly, the dog started running towards me barking and circling around me. I got so scared that I started to cry from fear, but, to my surprise, the monstrous dog lay down at my feet, playing with me. 

What a great scare, the biggest I had ever had at my young age. I don't know if it was out of fright or instinct, but realizing that the dog was friendly, I started petting it and calling it cute names. 

It was at that moment when I heard a female voice say, "Benny, come here, you bad dog, what are you doing out of the house?" As I turned around, I realized that whoever was speaking was the owner of the house, who was walking out the front door with my cousin. 

Seeing her, I felt calmer. She called me to come up to the balcony where they were. I don't remember what they talked about, but I do remember that they talked for a long time. All that time I kept watching how the dog moved from one side to the other playing with its owner. 

Minutes later, my cousin said goodbye and, as he left through the gate, the owner of the house shouted to Prieto: "Hey, be careful with that kid crossing the street. Watch him well, he's still small." My cousin waved yes and we left.

Nothing seemed strange to me at the time, but, come to think of it, my cousin was a very daring boy and I don't think he knew very well what it meant to be careful. He liked danger, but I did not. I was just a kid with a desire to explore the world, but I never imagined that, that desire combined with an unprepared guide, would lead me to experience some unexpected and even some inappropriate things. Still, I have them etched in me as part of my best moments. 

Where is my cousin now? I really don't know. I don't know if he lives or not, for like many others in the future they choose the wrong path and many times that path leads to two places, death or prison, which is where I find myself writing these words.

God willing, he will be part of the exception of those who manage to get out of the bad road alive, guided by the hand of God.

What I do know is that I miss him very much and I would like to laugh with him and his family, I would like to sit with him and laugh about the moments we lived together. 

"To remember is to live," is a phrase my girlfriend Xiomara uses a lot and I think she is right. You have to live to the fullest and treasure those good moments that life brings us at every stage of our existences, because you never know when, some of those moments, will be the final memory you live in this world. 

This is only the beginning of my life, the first stage. I hope you don't leave, because there are still many more to come.

Early one morning, I got up from my little bed, after a night where I slept like a baby. Apparently, the sleep was very good, because I walked half asleep to the kitchen. Upon entering, I thought I would find my siblings, but no one was there. Neither my grandmother nor my aunts were on the terrace. 

Since I was hungry, I started to look for the cereal in the drawer where they always keep it, when suddenly I heard my aunt Norma's voice: "Muchachito, what are you looking for?" Oh no, they caught me, I thought, but I held my nerves and answered, "It's just that I'm hungry and I'm looking for the cereal." My aunt with her scary face, approached me, saying, "Get down from over there, lest you fall."

Without a second thought, I got off and went to the table without looking at her much. She would make that face so she could control us, because she not only took care of her own children who are six in number, but she also took care of others as well. My aunt always took care of us when my father was working and during school vacations. 

Suddenly, she brought out several things and, in a matter of minutes, prepared a delicious ham, cheese and egg sandwich for me. I couldn't believe it. I don't know if she saw my hungry face or that I was too skinny, but I ate the whole thing.

At that time, I could eat everything without getting fat. It was as if I had thousands of little worms eating everything that reached my stomach without letting me get fat. My aunt also brought me a glass of orange juice. Unbelievable! This was better than any vacation I had ever had. 

When I finished eating, I heard some noises coming from the front of the house, but since the kitchen door was open, I decided to go out that way. 

Through that door, you came to the area where my aunt hung out the clothes to dry. When I took a good look, I saw my brothers and cousins playing ball in front of the house.

This was nothing new, as we played hide and seek, tug and cover, ball and hole, basketball using a bucket as a basket and, of course, my favorite sport, ball. We didn't have the proper equipment, but we still managed. We played using a broomstick as a bat and a ball made of tape. 

Still, those times were very important to me. Those were fun times.

When I got to where they were, I had to stand and watch, because the teams were already full. My uncle Wishin was watching us from his house across the road. It looked like the road was ours. It didn't matter who won, as we always formed a shout of joy. 

Damaris played with us a lot, mostly on the team where my brothers were. She was very active and agile since she was a little girl. I don't know if it was because she was so skinny, but she ran very fast. 

As you can see, that day started out amazing, but then it changed. It changed from being the best day, to being the worst day. 

During one of the games, car noises and the squealing of tires started to be heard. None of us thought it was strange, as it was common to hear this from time to time. But that day was different.

Suddenly, while we were playing, two cars approached us at such a high speed that we didn't notice them, not even my uncle noticed.

I remember it all well, I was running for second base, when both cars came around the little curve in the street near the neighborhood alley number 7. One of the cars was chasing the other. We were all shocked to realize what was happening. My uncle Wishin came running out shouting, "Get out of the way, run, run, run!"

Frightened, I hid in the middle of two cars parked on one side of the street. From there I stood there watching everything that was going on, as if I was watching it in slow motion. 

There was a man with a hat, as if he had dog ears, sitting on the edge of the door of one of the cars, shooting at the other car. It was so shocking that those images will never be forgotten.

Now I know that the things that happen to us in life, God makes them work for his purposes with us, according to his plan, I can see everything differently. However, back then I didn't understand any of that. I just watched in terror the way everything was happening in front of us.

As an adult I understand the importance of not doing things that can traumatize the mind of a young person or a child, there are circumstances in which they should not be exposed. There are stages for everything and, a child seeing a man with a gun shooting in a speeding car is not something they should be witnessing.

It doesn't mean it's appropriate for an adult, but we can deal with these kinds of situations.

I know one thing has nothing to do with the other, but in my life of crime filled with drugs and other evils, I never did anything in front of children or young adults. Maybe that's why many in the community loved me so much.

Of all the things I remember from my past, I can say that I'm glad that, at least, I didn't show them anything physically wrong. I wish I hadn't done the things that brought me to prison in my 20s, but I did. 

The maturity that I lacked before, I now have. God has used every experience I have had to change my ignorance into the maturity I so desperately needed.

I know there is still room to grow more, but back then there was not only room to grow, but there was so much to know and learn. 

I was just a kid and every day felt like the best was yet to come. I think he was right.

Every day there is something more to learn and experience. One step at a time, one stage at a time. The story of our lives does not stop but continues.

There are really few memories I have with my father. He died when I was a child. We all know that our mothers are the most precious thing to us. We also have a special affection for our brothers and sisters, but, personally, I think the father figure is very important.

Father and mother create the balance needed for a balanced marriage, family and upbringing. 

After my parents separated, my mother took us to live far away from our paternal family. Two of us moved from Hato Rey to Trujillo Alto to a public residential home, called Nuestra Señora de Covadonga. 

We only spent time with them during summer vacations and some weekends. I don't understand why it happens this way, but after a separation, this always happens.

I don't know if you will agree with me, but I don't like moving from one place to another. I don't like changes of environment, having to build new friendships or family changes.

The little I remember about my father is that he always took me to a friend of his who was a barber. It makes me laugh to think of all the times at school when they made fun of my hairstyles.

However, I don't remember the teasing and I thank God for that, but it does make me laugh to think about it. 

My father always took me for walks. One day I went to the house where his new family lived. 

The lady was a little chubby. Seeing her with my father was a little strange for me. As children, it is usually strange for us to see our fathers or mothers with another couple.

Part of that, is because we don't know if we will get along with that person or, maybe, it's because, in some way, we feel that mom and dad are not together like they should be.

After being with him for a while, we would go back to my aunt and grandmother's house. 

On the way through the alleys that my cousin had shown me earlier, there were some people playing pool, drinking and smoking, others were playing dominoes.

My dad started talking to some of them and I just watched what they were doing. It was funny to see how they seemed to be enjoying the time, but it also seemed boring to me. 

After a while, we finally continued on our way. All I could think about was going to play with my brothers and cousins. 

My father was always very protective of me. In the street and other public places, he always took me by the hand. 

When he opened the gate, I ran out looking for the others to see if they were playing or something, but no one was playing.

Some were in their rooms, and some were sleeping. Finding nothing of what I expected, I went to the terrace to accompany my grandmother and, as it was late, I fell asleep.

The next day, I got up in the room they had for me. I don't know how I got there, but there I woke up lying on my father's lap.

That was a tremendous surprise, but it was not the only one.

When I stood up, I realized that my father was all wet, it was at that moment that I realized that it was not water, but urine. I had peed in my sleep. How embarrassing.

But what surprised me the most was my father's reaction. When he saw that I had realized what had happened, he smiled at me and said: "At least I don't have to take a bath anymore, since you did it for me. Come, let's go so you can have a bath."

I don't know if it was his words or the way he said it, but I always remember that moment. I don't remember anything else about what we did after that. In fact, it's the last thing I remember about him.

My mother always tells me that my father looked for me and visited me at the farmhouse. But nothing, I just don't remember anything else.

Maybe that's why I faithfully believe that, whether from far or near, my father's presence is important, just as my mother's is.

No words can express how much I miss him and how much I would give to see him and give him a hug. To be a kid again and play with him until he gets tired and scolds me. 

All of this makes me laugh so much. When we are children, we want to grow up and be young, but when we are young, we want to be adults. The funny thing is that, as adults, we don't want to be old. Even so, we reach old age and during that time we want to be young again.

It would be better if we accepted reality as God designed it. If we learn to enjoy each stage of life without complaining, we would live better and not waste so much time. When you learn how important this is, you feel the responsibility to help others not to make the same mistakes you made because you were ignorant.

Spending your life complaining is a waste of time, because complaints do not solve anything. Nothing will change if God's plan is for you to go through some path that he wants to use to teach us the value of life, family, friends and especially the value of his son Jesus Christ for our salvation.

God teaches us what we must understand, so that our lives have real meaning. Why is this important? Simple, no matter how long you go without knowing the real meaning, it will come the day you look back and realize that your life is gone, and you missed it.

I went through that. I followed the desires I wanted and it all vanished as if it never existed.

Momentarily we feel good when we have material things, yet no matter what we have, we always want more and more. 

I went to great lengths to have everything I wanted to see how I would feel, but I got nothing. Let me make something clear, material objects are not the problem, the problem is when they are the only reason to live or be happy.

I like old cars, more than new ones. I like BMW's, they are nice. Now with Jesus Christ in my life, I understand that it is He who gives it meaning. One lives for God and God moves us to live for Him. Having or not having something does not affect our happiness, because having Him is what should make us happy.

I do not know if you are like I was before. At first, when I began to seek God, I didn't understand anything, but the desire for something new in my life, the desire to know about Him, helped me to continue.

The good thing is that if you really seek Him, He makes Himself known and things you didn't understand before start to make sense. All this comes from reading His word and praying, but it is God who helps us to understand what we read. 

He is always at work. It is we who deviate from God's plan, to try to make our own plans, sometimes we even achieve our plans, but really most of the time we do not achieve them.

Our own immaturity and lack of wisdom leads us not to listen to others who want to advise us for our good. 

I have no words to explain to you how many painful moments I could have avoided, if I had listened to the advice of people like my grandmother, my mom, my aunt, my uncle, my dad and other people who want to see me well. Thinking that I know it all, brought me pain, suffering and many disappointments.

With every blow, people mature, but if we listen to advice, we can avoid some blows.

That's why I tell you that it is important to take advantage of the time with all the people you love, but above all pay attention to the advice they give you. Whether you are just a child, young person or adult, there is always something to learn so that later you can be the one to help others, because there will come a time when you no longer have the opportunity to be with someone you love and then you are left wondering what would have been.

If you have lost an important person as I have, try to treasure every memory, because you might find something to learn from them.

I do not know if for you, but for me, the 90's were one of the best times of my life, youth, adolescence, and young adulthood. During this time, I went through a little bit of everything; adventures and disappointments that marked my life.

I remember well that when I was between 7 and 8 years old, I was called the ugly one of the farmhouses, because I was a skinny and eared boy, but above all, a brat. 

I have suffered from allergies since I was a child, and it still affects my life. I believe that, if God does not take this away from me, I will continue like this.

There were times of allergy, also times to fight with my brothers. Fights over childish nonsense, which we now laugh a lot about because, at the time, they seemed important to us. We laugh when we realize how immature we were in those times. 

One of the things we argued a lot about was food and who would play with the Nintendo. Imagine, six siblings and only one console.

Each one of us was trying to do our own thing, surrounded by a world that teaches us to be violent and to want what others have. But thank God, because he used our parents to educate us and get us through.

Even so, more is needed, especially if you live in a hamlet or a neighborhood. They are conflictive places that, the only thing they teach you, is that you can't allow yourself to be weak for anything in the world, but you have to be the strongest so that they don't abuse you. If you do that, you will end up like me, being the person, they made fun of in school. 

In this place they don't understand the difference between humility and weakness and confuse one with the other. Despite this, thank God I was able to continue to be myself and stay just the way I am.

I remember, at 5th grade graduation, my mother wanted to celebrate in style and bought me the best dress she could. The only thing I didn't like was that the dress was white, it had a bow on it and I looked crazy.

Be that as it may, I love my mother and I keep in mind all that she sacrificed so that my siblings and I could do things right. I know that every smack she gave us to discipline us, she gave us for things we did. I know that they were not soft blows, they were hard spankings, even if they did not hit me, it hurt me just to see it.

She disciplined all of us, none of her children escaped this. We all knew the discipline of a mother who was jealous for her children, a mother who wanted her children not to get lost in a world of lies and pain.

I don't know if at any time, any of us got angry or came to think bad things about her, but none of us can say that she hit us for no reason. Each one of us did something wrong and then came the beating. Especially when we misbehaved at school.

I remember one day in PE class, I didn't like the way the teacher scolded me, so I responded with a bad word and threw a cleaning fluid at him. As you can imagine, a problem formed, and my mother was called to the school.

She heard everything very calmly and, as we were leaving, she did not say anything to me either, to the point where I forgot all about it. Then we got home and I started playing with my siblings as if nothing had happened. I went to take a bath, not because I liked it, but because I had to. I don't know why, but there is a certain age when some of us don't like baths.

Be that as it may, suddenly, my mother opened the curtain and before I could see what she had in her hand, she gave me the first blow, of the many others she would give me for having been spoiled and having spoken bad words to a teacher.

When I think back on it, I think about how my mother did know how to make the best of things. She waited so I couldn't run away, naked, wet and off guard cornered in a bathtub. 

No matter how much I screamed, my mother didn't stop until she wanted to. Tremendous cock.

But that wasn't all, after the spanking, came the punishment. She sent me to my room and I couldn't go out to play, I also had to apologize to the teacher.

Maybe it seems excessive or even an abuse, but you must remember that this happened in the 90's, in a public residential. I told you that things are tough in those places and mothers should do that for the sake of their children.

I don't even remember why I reacted that way with the teacher, who was one of those who always helped in school tournaments, in order for us to learn good and useful things.

What I do remember is that, since that day, I am not the same. You can also imagine that I never spoke badly to him or was spoiled by any other teacher. I learned my lesson well.

Believe me, learning something at that time in life was difficult. That was the time of cutting classes, running off into the bush to run horse with no brakes, playing hide and seek and all sorts of crazy things. Sometimes we would run into things that, some of the upper school people would do on the sly. 

You know the kind of things I mean. Everything was allowed, possible and at any time. There wasn't a moment I didn't take advantage of to play and have fun. 

The game of rescue, tug-of-war was one of my favorites. My brother Luis, whom we call "Bobo" because he is skinny and fast, everyone asked for him in their teams. My sisters Damaris and Yari also asked for him a lot. The three of them were always the fastest. 

I always saw how they played, because being the youngest, they almost never asked me to play. The competition was strong. There were also others with good playing talents. I remember that Miguel's brother Carlos and his sister Elizabeth were among the best.

When I think back to these times, many names come to my mind. I remember my sister's best friends Yari, Mircha and Xiomara. I also remember Joito and others.

Thinking back to those days is like remembering a great adventure. How I wish I could go back and relive those moments, but without the bad situations. To go back and make better decisions. I know that is impossible, but dreaming is not. 

What I can do, is trying to plan things better, leaving the bad behind. Live life with purpose and maturity. Take the time to teach other young people about life.

Childhood and adolescence are times when things happen that define us as adults. Every experience, every success, every mistake, every decision, whether we made it in ignorance or not, has affected us to this day.

The good thing is that God can give us the opportunity to redefine and amend our lives, to move forward and live as well as possible. 

The time of childhood and youth is very beautiful and important, as well as adulthood and old age. But this was just a story of my early 90's, there is still more to come.

If you get to forget everything, at least I would like you to remember this: In order to grow and mature, we have to listen to others, especially our parents and the people who love us.

By the mid 90's, the seriousness of living around what many call "the Underworld," began to become evident. 

At my young age of 12, I began to experience things I wouldn't wish on anyone. Not all my moments were bad, the mid 90's also brought beautiful things. I met Joito, the black guy, who would become one of the best friends I have ever had. He even became like a father to me.

He was a dope shooter in the hamlet, he was very serious about things, but at the same time, very kind to everyone. His mother was wonderful, he loved her very much. His sister Misuki was like him, she liked all things underworld. His older brothers Carlanga, Junior and Babillon, wherever they are, I carry them in my heart. 

But let me tell you something about Joito. By the time we were getting to know each other, I was noticing his way of doing his things, not only his personal things, but also those of the underworld. 

One day, his mother asked him to replace a fan on the ceiling with a new one. Suddenly, while he was working with the electrical wires, he said to me, "Wil, do you want to see what happens when the two wires touch?" I didn't even know what to say. 

Until he took the screwdriver and touched the wires, making an explosion of sparks. The sound was so loud and sudden, I jumped with fright. To my surprise, Joito was just laughing as if nothing had happened.

"Don't be afraid, if you don't touch the wires with your hands, nothing will happen," he told me. But inside me, I was just thinking he will be crazy, I don't want to be near those wires.

I remember that his mom sold hamburgers, hot dogs, fries and sodas. I helped him for a long time, until the day when, because of his age, he decided not to do it anymore.

During my time with them, I learned to dress better. I also matured a little more. For my mother everything was normal and, to a certain extent, it was. 

He would buy me clothes and shoes for school, he wanted me to study and not follow the wrong path. Sometimes he would lend me his car and motorcycle, so that I could wash them. Everything seemed nice and perfect.

He fell in love with Xiomara and got together with her. Everyone thought that little black guy would not make it, but he did, and it was nothing temporary. They got married and even had children. Now with her and him together, everything was more fun. I kept helping them. 

One day, one of them, called Garrapata el grande, took my bicycle and Joito saw everything. I just cried in the middle of two parked cars. I think he was on his drug business, I don't know, but I do remember he came up to where I was and, with annoyed eyes, asked me why I was crying.

"They took my bike," I replied. I remember well what he said: "You let them take your bike? What's wrong with you? You're bigger, why didn't you fight?" "I don't know how to fight," I replied. 

His face said it all, he couldn't believe it. But I couldn't imagine what Joito was going to do. I'll never forget it. He sent one of the addicts to look for the one who took my bike and, when he arrived, he said, "Dale, fight him."

I was surprised, for Garrapata was not only the brother of Aracelis, one of the prettiest girls in the whole hamlet, but he also knew something about boxing. 

Garrapata just laughed, I looked at Joito telling him he was crazy, but he kept telling me the same thing and the same thing: "From here you don't leave until you fight, or else, you won't get rid of that fear."

There was no escape, I ended up fighting. With tears in my eyes, but I fought. 

I do not believe it myself, but it was a "give and take". With all the fear, I fought to the end. After that, Joito made me stop asking for forgiveness and we shook hands. "You are friends, learn not to fight over nothing. Don't take things from each other, lend them to each other. It's not good to take anything from anyone by force," Joito said.

Still with tears in my eyes, I took my bike and left for home. As I said, I will never forget that day. Every time I remember it, I would like to call Joito and talk to him, to laugh a lot, but he is no longer with us. I lost him.

It gives me pain not to have him, but also joy for having known him. Through him I met other people. One of them was Edie, named Colorado. Great guy. They all worked together at the point. 

Edie had a girlfriend in another town far from Trujillo. I remember the times he took me in his car to visit her. It seemed like I was her little brother. Good thing, he had one of the best stereos in the whole place.

He also liked to run hard, that scared me, but he also enjoyed it. We played ball, basketball and shopping. In a short time, we became good friends.

He and black Joito would hang out together and I would hang out with them. I liked it when they raced motorcycles, ATVs and banchies through the mountains and the farmhouse. Those were good years. But the best part was that, around that time, I met the girl who would become my first girlfriend.

The funny thing is that I thought she would never notice me, but I don't know why it always happens, the good experiences are harder to remember than the bad ones.

I was just a young man with the dream of, someday, playing baseball at a professional level, but life had other plans for me.

God had better plans, but, like most human beings, I insisted on not paying attention to his plans and did what I wanted, reaping the suffering of my own decisions. That's not counting the dangerous experiences I had to live through. 

It is better to learn to align yourself with God's plans than to live in a crazy way. How many bad things would I have avoided? I don't know, but I guess a lot. If I had listened to advice, I know I would have been better off.

Although now it is not possible to go back in time and change the bad things, we can approach God and surround ourselves with His plan, to avoid going down those paths that made us suffer so much.

The years 93 and 94 were, without knowing it, my last years at the Covadonga Residence in Trujillo Alto. 

I did not know that the plans of my Mother Rosa Iris would change everything I thought I knew, although, with the things I know today, I can see that it was God who changed things for the Feliciano family.

Before reaching this crucial point, several very dangerous events occurred that, without knowing it, would change my life. Let us remember that the things we live through, always, in one way or another, affect us mentally or spiritually. Before I continue, let me explain something. 

By this time, Funcho, Indio, Galdy, Pirulo, Nikita, Zurdo, Manuel el Contrero, Guilo and others were the ones who, for me, were in control of the whole hamlet where I lived. They, together with old Chino Gafa, were the most powerful and had the respect of the whole community.

Holidays and gifts came from them. No one lacked gifts on Christmas, Mother's Day or Three Kings' Day. Everyone took it upon themselves to share what they had with those in need.

I think that's why everyone loved and cared for each other.

This went on for a long time. It was common to see them racing motorcycles to see who was the fastest. It was very special to see the children and adults enjoying the races.

Funchi and Indio were two of my friends who always raced their cars. One had a new Camaro and the other a Tsansam. It was easy to notice the prosperity, power and money there. 

What I liked most was that we could play baseball and basketball. It was normal for the adults to see us running around playing hide and seek or yoyo, we always shouted a lot.

Best of all, they were healthy and fun games. It's sad that today's youth miss out on these experiences, they just spend their time glued to technology. They don't know what they are missing.

Parents are also missing the opportunity to share these customs with their children. These games are like some things in life, if they are not shared and promulgated, they will disappear from the culture and from the minds of many. As parents, we have a responsibility to pass on good customs to our children. 

Those were good times. Although, of course, it wasn't all good.

Occasionally, we would wake up startled by the sounds of guns being fired at night. It was as if the night was the perfect time to do mischief and fight for control of the farmhouse.

When the shots began to be heard, my mother Rosa would hide us in the bathtub. Now that I am an adult, I see once again the love she had for us. She protected us in the bathtub and kept us calm. 

At the beginning, all this scared us a lot, but, with time, we got used to it. It became so normal to me that, one day when I was 13, the sound of gunfire woke me up.

As if it was nothing, I went to the fourth floor window and I could see that a group of people were shooting from the hill, at the entrance of the farmhouse. Next to the stairs.

They were shooting at others who were lower than them, in the corner of the building where I lived. It all looked like a scene from a movie. It was at that moment that I became afraid of the danger we were all in.

At any instant we could be hit by a crossfire bullet. I froze, until I heard my mother's voice, yelling at me to move away from the window and get down on the ground. But my brothers also wanted to see what was going on outside. Like any child, we didn't grasp the gravity of what was happening.

Not long after, I would have an experience that would show me the reality behind the whole war for control. 

Funche was in his white Mitsubishi Galant car and was surprised by a group of masked people and, while he was talking on the phone, they started shooting at him with their rifles.

One more life lost because of bad decisions.

That same day, Indio disappeared and was found dead in his luxury car. Nobody knew how it happened, only Raul the fat man, by God's mercy, managed to escape from that world in time. Later I had the opportunity to meet him and he is a great man, who likes to spend time with his wife and children. 

The most unfortunate thing is that after a time of sadness, especially for the family members, everything went back to normal as if nothing had happened. This happens a lot in the underworld.

Nothing has changed. One dies, one mourns and quickly goes back to parties and presents. 

The more time passed, the more powerful the old men became. People like Zurdo continued to rule from jail. Nikita remained one of the most feared hit men. Fredi el bocón, being one of the tough guys, continued to shout as much as he wanted. 

Many other gangsters were getting more solid in their position, but new faces were also rising. New generations.

Manuel the contrero, was grooming some who saw him as a father. Pirulito also had his followers. Yoito el negro, Betillo and Tamarindo are some of the ones I remember. Zurdo was like one of my relatives. Many times I heard him talking to my sister Yari. I know his son Roland, who was called El Bebo.

We got along very well. Bebo was daddy's boy, spoiled beyond belief. He was admired by the other young people, he had everything and lacked nothing. For me, Bebo became like a brother, my best friend.

I stayed with him at his house all the time. At that time everything was fine and prosperous. I really enjoyed it when we watched movies together. Our favorite was Searface. Pure action.

I remember one day we went to play basketball on a court in a housing development and something happened. I don't remember much, but I do remember that I ended up fighting with someone bigger than me.

Bebo got upset and wanted to go back with a gun so they wouldn't be bullies, but, thank God, nothing happened and we didn't go back. Remembering it makes me laugh. 

Those were the days of coffer fourtrack, jumping up and down to the housing development, buying kerepas on the other side of the street and many other things. Bebo paid for everything, because I had no money. 

I liked to watch him play baseball in tournaments. I think if he had listened to his father and stayed in the ball game, he would be a major league player today, because he was pretty good.

He was very badly brought up, though, and would get upset if anyone tried to correct him. That was the problem with young people. At that time we thought we knew everything and nobody could tell us anything. It is for this reason that we made bad decisions and failed.

Time passed and our paths diverged. I returned to normalcy with my family. My maternal grandfather would come and bring very good food and sweets. He would bring us polvorones, donuts, coquito, hazelnuts and other things. 

Every time we saw him coming, we would scream with excitement, because we knew he was coming with food and money for our mother. He was funny, but serious at the same time. 

He was a veteran of the war in Vietnam. This war hurt him a lot. He spent most of the time alone or in the Rio Piedras, drinking and walking. Every time my mom would take us to the river, we would see him in the distance. 

My mom always supported us as best she could. On birthdays and Christmas, there was never a lack of presents. She would celebrate all of our birthdays together, why? Imagine celebrating 6 birthdays, for my mom that was impossible. She didn't have that much money to spend. 

She made the effort so that, at least, we all had something. I still remember the imitation tennis shoes she used to buy us, my mother always confused them. But most of all, I remember the tennis shoes with little lights on them.

What fun it all was. Yari, Damaris and Beba always had unique hairstyles. My mother always made sure we didn't have lice, because whoever had them would be very embarrassed. 

What good memories, how nice it is when we are pampered.

My mother really went through many situations with us. Not only when we misbehaved, but also with something common like chicken pox.

No one wants to have chicken pox or measles, and worse, with six children who, in a matter of time, if one catches it, so do the others. 

Entering middle school, in seventh grade, I stopped liking studying. Bobo was smarter and ended up in the special help room. They didn't do anything there compared to a regular classroom.

The only thing I liked was to cut classes and go to the park to play briscas. Some played by punishing the loser, but I didn't like the whipping they gave each other. 

The higher grades would hang out on the playground, doing their own thing. As a child, I didn't think it was a good thing, but it was common to see the kissing and groping they did, because they didn't hide.

The best thing was to escape to Rongir's pool, especially because we would go in without permission. Some time later, we would get to the point of buying cookies, chips and sodas.

It was like a pool party in a pool that was not ours and to which we were not invited. Ignorance is bold. We did this every week as if it was nothing. 

By this time, my brother Luis Leña started bringing pizza from Pizza Hut and other goodies to eat. He also brought money. He would help at the pizza place and pack at another food store. 

I wanted to take his example and do the same. So I went to the pizzeria and, over time, little by little, one of the delivery boys who took the pizzas house to house liked me. 

One day he asked me if I was Leña's brother and when I said yes, he invited me to go with him. I didn't think twice. Our first trip was to a place called Venus Garden, which is a housing development near the pizzeria.

From that day on, Jose made me the pizza delivery partner. It lasted four months, but it was worth it. 

Back then, the pizzeria had competitions on who could assemble pizza boxes the fastest. Whoever won got a pizza and something to drink. That was one of the best-selling combo deals. 

I easily got the hang of it and became the fastest of them all, faster than Leña. Bobo had a trick that I learned late, but even so, he was still second. 

After many pizzas and deliveries, the pizzeria changed management and we couldn't do it anymore, as the new manager didn't allow anyone who wasn't an employee. 

By that time, we started calling for a pizza, but with a false address and, not being able to sell the pizza at the end of the day, they would give it away. This didn't last long, because, eventually, they stopped deliveries to the residential.

The situation became difficult. My brother Luis and I began to pack purchases and little by little we became known. Thanks to this, we were able to help our mother. 

One day when I was coming home from work, something very sad happened to me. I had made $50 and I kept it in my socks like I used to. 

When I went out to throw away some boxes at the back of the supermarket, suddenly someone grabbed me by the neck and started yelling at me to give him my money. "Don't move and give me the money or I'll kill you, where do you have it?" he said over and over again.

At first, I thought it was a lie, but I immediately realized they were not jokes and, crying, I told him where I had the money. 

Until suddenly, to my surprise, I heard someone's voice say, "Hey, drop it now!" I could see it was Officer Colon, who worked as a security guard at the pizzeria. 

The officer kept shouting, while pointing his .38 caliber revolver at him. At that moment, I could also see who it was that was assaulting me. It was someone from the farmhouse named Luis Zurdo.

"We're just playing," he said letting go of me. The officer was like an angel of God and I was able to realize what was going on.

Luis was an addict, and they often do things they don't want to do in order to try to get more drugs. I will never forget that day, nor what Colón did, he was always a man who looked out for everyone. He died in 2022.

When I heard about it, I thought about how short life is. If we don't enjoy it and take care of it, we will waste the time we have left with those who really matter. Every event teaches us something. If we pay attention, we learn to value the opportunities God gives us. 

Colón is gone and so is Luis Zurdo. The latter died in a motorcycle accident. I went to his wake and saw how much his sister, a servant of God, suffered seeing him like that. His brother Noel could not even see him, as he was in prison. 

I believe that every friend and acquaintance we have is an important part of our lives, whether for better or worse. 

I will not deny that I miss them very much. 

Many things can happen in several years. This is only a part of my life in the 90's, but there is still more to come.