Kasher in the Rye: The True Tale of a White Boy from Oakland Who Became a Drug Addict, Criminal, Mental Patient, and Then Turned 16

by Moshe Kasher

By the time we got to Pleasant Hill, we were both sloppy drunk, and as we tromped down the escalator, we saw two big BART cops sitting right at our only exit. We just decided to ride straight back to Oakland, tagging up the train cars. It was just like old times. Back upstairs, at the station, I sat on the bench, waiting for the train, and looked over at Donny. I sighed. “This isn’t working anymore,” I said, cracking a Budweiser. Donny looked up at me and I knew he knew exactly what I meant. I sighed. “I mean, is it normal? What we are doing? We are headed no place, doing nothing. I keep waiting for this thing to just change, on its own accord. I keep waiting for the balance to shift in my favor but I’m starting to think it’s never going to. I’m starting to think it’s never going to change. It’s like, is this my life?” I stared at my friend, my old friend, waiting for a laugh. It didn’t come. “I feel you.” Donny looked close to the edge. Weary. Cracked. Dusted. “New Mexico fucked me up, bro. It’s crazy there. I’m all jacked up. I don’t know what to do either.” “So now what?” We were both lost.