All that knife business doesn't mean I was a pacifist for life. I think I was afraid I was a coward at heart. It didn't stop me from taking the guy down out in front of the Drug Crisis Center when I was twenty or grabbing a hammer and running out into the middle of the street in front my of apartment on Louisiana Ave in New Orleans because there were two guys at it out there. (they were friends, higher than kites, wrestling for the hell of it in the middle of the street) Or fighting off a hold-up guy in Tucson (my life was at stake then) or chasing a neighbor down an alley and punching him for scaring my twin toddlers in Venice (he was screeching at them and my wife for letting them blow a kid's whistle in the middle of day) I'd prefer not to battle it out with anyone. That includes ex-wives. One used to throw tantrums and leave scars.
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