rumble in roseland

when we were kids we would rumble.  that's what we called it. group fighting between semi-rival gangs.  all of us far too young to be adopting the street language of the new york gangs. we weren't new york. we weren't even newark. we were the still semi-rural new suburbs. a chunk of the town was still farmland. certain families had been living there for generations.  it was only recently that swaths of woodlands were razed to give way to the hordes of predominantly jews, italians, irish still fleeing the cities in the early 70s. phillip rothland. paul austerville. those authors who had already extensively characterized these areas and the jersey rural invasion and suburban creation in their elegant prose.
why i thought i was so fucking tough, i don't know. but i had it somewhere in me. i loved to fight. i also cried constantly at the most minor emotional pang. hysteric gulping of air and operatic tears engulfed me when i fucked up and mom yelled. but on the street, i did not fuck around. i gained some kind of reputation too. i punched ritchie o'connoll pretty hard once. he was a fucking pussy at that age. granted, i got the shit kicked out of me too, on occasion. but i did not go down easy.  at school, us little kids would get forced into fighting each other.  midget wars. i did alright. i even had to go against some of the fastest and hardest kids out there. i cried. and got beat alright. jason aranowitz. johnny batta. joey gossett. fuck them. twice my size and twice as fast. i still got some shots in.