My first memory is not a happy one. It was not a great one because they beat the hell out of me. I was around five years old. My sister beat me. She was something like four years older than me. I was a saucy boy. I dyed her white dress in black. And that was not funny! And I did it on purpose because she pissed me off. I was a brat. I know.
(On the corner of N Fullerton Ave. and Claremont Ave.)