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I wondered how far back I could go back and remember in my life as a kid on the street. People never forget traumatic experiences, and sure enough, one came to mind.

My beautiful mother Dolores, who was known as Lolita, had left me alone on the front stoop of 2 West 111th Street, seems she had forgotten something, but not, without first issuing me a strong warning to stay put. Two seconds after she went back to our apartment, I was heading down the block, towards Lenox Ave., sporting an outfit that was out of place in such a tough neighborhood. It was a two piece hand-knitted woolen suit in multi-colors, complete with a combination woolen cap with a woolen ball on top and to make matters worse, a woolen pom-pom was clutched tightly in my mitten covered hands, but since I was still too young to know that's not what a tough kid wears, what the hell.

At the corner of Lenox I stopped at the curb and checked out some roaring monsters called cars. I turned chicken at the thought of crossing the street and headed back to my good old brown stoop and imagine my horror when I found that all the stoops were brown and looked exactly alike. Bueno, realizing that I was lost, I did the next best thing I could and opening my mouth, I began to howl for Mami at the top of my lungs. Vaya!!, I was lost in the ghetto and right on my own block. People began forming a protective circle around me and did their best to console and reassure me, that my madre would show up any second now. I screamed louder to help Mami hear me better, when suddenly a great shadow fell over me and I felt myself being lifted up by a white-faced giant all dressed in blue. I fought him with great courage, even getting in a kick or two, until he held my legs tightly, too. Somebody handed me a piragua (snowcone) heavy with red sweet syrup. I declared a truce with the cop and went to work on my piragua.

"No te apures niño, vamos a encontrar a tu mami, ok?" I smiled, sniffed back a tear and continued slurping my snowball.

All of a sudden, I heard Mami's voice right behind me. "Bendito Dios, muchacho, why didn't you listen to me and stay put like I told you to?" I put out my arms and Mami lifted me out of the policía's arms and hugged me to her, in spite of my dripping piragua.

"Keep a better eye on your kid, señora, looks like he's a wanderer, and there's all kinds of crazy people running around."

"I will, muchas gracias to all of you." Mami smiled appreciation to those who had looked out for me. She carried me back to our tiny four-room cold-water flat. Mami scrubbed my face and hands squeaky clean and then just looked at me with a "I don't know what I'm going to do with you" look. I was feeling good in spite of the close call. Imagine, being lost from Mami forever.

Mami sat me on her lap and asked, "Why did you not stay put like I told you to?" I struggled and that was the last straw as far as Mami was concerned. She turned me over, pulled down my pants and laid it on my culito with the palm of her hand. Instant pain registered in my brain and my yells gave proof to the fact. Mami said with tears in her eyes, "That was so that you will pay attention to me next time." Believe me hijo, to spank you, hurt my hand."

"What about my culito?" I grinned through the tears. "Tell that to my culito."

Mami took me into her arms, hugged me and whispered, "De veras, hijo, it was for your own good."

"Humph!!" I thought back at Mami, "that's your story, but as far as I'm concerned, mamacita, it's an open and shut case of child abuse. Caramba, I would have been willing to talk the whole thing over with you in a more civilized manner, but now I'm ready to show a jury my ass with your hand-print etched on my poor culito."

Mami said, "You know, hijito, I would rather talk things over with you instead of spanking."

" Yeah," I thought, "so how come she didn't think of that before laying a most heavy hand on my little brown culito?"