Sutter Ave & Richard

I'll be honest, up until this very moment I wasn't sure what to call it. I actually thought the term was "Mongoloid." But before diving into this memory to share this odd story, I thought I'd make sure I was using the accurate, scientific terminology. Turns out I wasn't. In fact the term "Mongoloid" refers to an actual race of people. It's not a condition or form of Down syndrome, as I ignorantly thought it was. See below (and to the right a little)

I, for some time, when sharing this experience with others, I'd refer to my friend Richard as my "Mongoloid friend." Do I now feel like a trash human? Yeah, lil' bit. I DIDN'T KNOW!!!!

Anyhow, I'm still as oblivious as ever at what his actual condition was. The rumor on the streets (of our specific neighborhood) was that Richard, his two brothers and one sister were the products of incest. Was that just a rumor? I still don't know.

Either way something within their genetics caused some physical and mental stunting and abnormalities. Richard's older sister, for some reason, hadn't taken on any of the abnormalities, but both, his older and younger brother did. To best describe Richard, I'd say he was shaped a lot like a hobbit. Shorter in stature, a little haunched over, enlarged head (but not like a typical dwarf or little person), stubby fingers with hairy knuckles. Mentally, Richard shared a lot of the same interests that at 11 or 12 year old would have. Which is why him and I hit it off so well. I was 11 when I met Richard.

Between the ages of 10-12 I lived in a very poor neighborhood of West Sacramento which bordered up against an industrial area one one side, railroad tracks on the other and just concrete everywhere else.

I lived in a condemned house on Sutter Ave. with an ever-rotating cast of family members and squatters. I think everyone on my mom's side of the family lived in that house at some point. I think we just kept grand-fathering it to one another because the land/slumlord never checked in. My sister and her family lived there for years before the house became condemned, while my mom and I stayed after everyone moved.

The things I saw in that house as a child caused me to not have one shred or sentimentality when it was finally bulldozed. The house's sulfuric smelling/tasting water supply was fed by an electric well pump, so when the house was officially condemned the well was shut off. We found a work-around by filling up five-gallon Alhambra water-cooler bottles at the neighbor's house and hump it back to our pad to cook and bathe with.

No power also meant no lights, so we improvised a car battery and and hooked it to a headlight for, you know, ambience. Although living in a house with heroin-junkies and meth-heads, I learned quite a bit about electric circuits, basic carpentry, survival...escapism etc... And that's where Richard came into play.

Richard's home was right down the street from us and also a bit of a nightmare, but it was a safe nightmare. It wasn't particularly clean, but you were never left wondering how you were "gonna get this shit to flush down the toilet" or "am I going to walk into a room where everyone is shooting up?"

The only thing you had to worry about at Richard's house was being accosted by his brittle, long-winded father Cecil. Cecil was a frail old man who lived in one room of the house. He sat and slept on a couch in a room that was hoarded to the ceiling with newspapers and magazines, with small enclaves dug into the newsprint for his tobacco and rolling papers. He'd spend most of his time in there fixed in front of a small black and white television.

Once you were able to break away from one of Cecil's memories about how he misses his dead wife/sister(?), you'd have to navigate past Richard's brother Junior. I was fucking terrified of and for Junior. He was about 22-years old and still slept in a crib and wore diapers and a baby blue zip-up footie pajamas. He from time-to-time would have full facial hair if Cecil was behind on shaving him. I always tried to avert my eyes from him when passing by his crib, but it was nearly impossible, being that it was placed in the living room area. One time I showed up to hang with Richard during changing time and caught a regretful glimpse of his hairy man-baby cock. Fucking shit! I still don't know why I was so scared of Junior. At 11-years old, I just wasn't prepared handle it.

Richard's older brother, Roger, was also super intimidating. He seemed to have the most sense of self awareness about the situation. He was very protective of who was allowed to come into their home and understandably so. Roger was very rigid and often walked around the home like a General, making sure things were in order and that everyone was taken care of. He was super religious and would get on Richard for cussing and not going to church. Richard would always just blow him off, and do whatever he wanted. I always thought Roger hated me, so Richard would usher me in and out of the house so I didn't get yelled at by Roger. Roger eventually warmed up to me after an instance of helping him carry in the groceries.

Once getting to the intended destination of Richard's bedroom, he and I would play video games for hours. He owned an original Nintendo and we would play Double Dribble until dawn. Like sometimes the machine would shut down to cool off, we'd play it so much.

There was a secret spot on the court in that game where you could just nail three pointers all day. Once I found that spot I would destroy Richard's whole life. It took me a few months to finally beat him. He would get so mad, which would make me gloat and laugh-cry. His little fists would bounce off his knees whenever I'd beat him. He once kicked me out of his house because he was so upset that he lost. I had to leave the house and navigate my way all alone, with no ushering. I thought twice about how hard I'd gloat the next times.

The way Richard would get even in the video game department was via Mario Brothers. He'd always pick Player Two so he could have the last crack at beating my score. Even if I was beating him badly, he'd just fucking break bricks and run up the score past mine. It was so infuriating.

Richard was also very generous. Even though him and I shared the same mental capacity and interests in video games and the WWF, I think he knew the life I had to go back to when I left his home. He would always feed me whenever I was over. I lived on a steady diet of hotdogs a Coca-Cola. We'd have mustard drinking contests to see who could squirt the most Frenches into our mouth and swallow it without tearing up. He'd also share his Snickers bar supply every once in a while, as long as I didn't kick his ass too bad at Double Dribble.

Richard also had a pretty eclectic collection of Video Cassette Tapes. He owned every episode of Star Trek, old and Next Generation, every Space Shuttle Launch on tape with a huge three-foot model of Space Shuttle Challenger, every episode of Sanford and Son and every WWF PPV event ever. He also had a collection of old wrestling magazines that he ended up giving to me.

He also had a mountain bike and was super protective of it. He valued it at like $2,000 and told me he had a tracking device installed in it, should I decide to rob him. He would shake the bike back and forth so you could hear a small clanking sound within the frame. This was his proof of the tracking device.

Richard also fancied porn. Yeah. Of course he did. I think I had turned 12 by the time Richard and I watched porn together for the first time. We were both still at the mental age where boys make fun of each other for jacking-off, so we weren't jacking-off in front of one another, if that's what you were thinking. But we'd both stay up late, smashing pillows into our laps watching our favorite movie "Street Heat."

"Street Heat," if I remember correctly kinda followed the plot line of "Smokey and the Bandit." I don't fully remember, but I do recall a Burt Reynolds type character. I know, insane. The way Richard gained access to this specific title was riding his bike down to the local independent video store and asking to see the laminated menu of adult videos. How do I know this? Because I went with him a couple of times. Yes, Richard, my 26-year old, mentally and physically handicapped friend and I, would pedal our horny asses down to a video store and rent pornography.

Honestly, I can't imagine what the dude behind the counter was thinking when walked in. Obviously he didn't think much, because no police ever showed up to arrest Richard, but I'm sure him and his buddies had stories about us. "So yeah, this white trash kid and midget dude showed up today and...." I still can't fathom how that happened.

Although we never yanked in front of one another, for some reason one of us always had to go to the bathroom about midway through the viewing. I had one experience of "going to the bathroom" at Richard's house, during a viewing, where I discovered what Icy Hot was. Yup. That happened.

At some point during my 12th year of life, Richard and I lost contact. My mother had violated her parole and we officially left behind the house on Sutter Ave. I moved in with my older sister about 60 miles North of Sacramento in a small town called Arbuckle. Over the next few years I moved around a lot, up and down the I-5 corridor and found myself back in Sacramento. I heard Richard was living in some apartments in West Sac all alone. Cecil, Junior and Roger had all passed away. I tracked him down and visited him a couple of times, but life had just moved on for the both of us. I was 19 or 20 and he was still 12. One dream that Richard had was to go to Florida's Cape Canaveral and watch a shuttle launch, which he managed to do all by himself. He also alerted me to the fact that he procured a prostitute and it was "awesome." That was the final conversation I had with him. Richard died a few years later of a heart attack and was buried next to his brothers and his mom & dad/uncle (?) & Auntie(?) in a plot up in Woodland.