ran, and were chased, even when we weren’t doing anything wrong. I got really good at jumping fences while being chased by police. If they caught us for any real or imagined crime they beat us with their fists and nightsticks or blackjacks, which we called flapjacks because they made a flapping sound when they hit us. They searched us looking for any money we had, pocketing what they found. For a while they let us go; when we got older they dragged us to juvenile hall. It never occurred to us to tell anyone they beat or robbed us. It was accepted. That was just the way life was at that time.
We accepte it
