There was nothing to do. Hang out at the Fun Dump (pool hall). Go the The Loma (the movie theatre). But my favorite thing was drinking beer. We would ask Tiny to buy us each a forty. Hard to believe, but one of those and you were good. Walk down to Stoner’s Wall and sit and drink. Stoner’s Wall was a half a mile down the railroad tracks from downtown. My friend Duane and me used to save our lunch money to buy cans of spray paint to graffiti on the wall. Band names and whatnot. Duane was good with the spray painting. His always looked better than mine. Duane passed away recently, colon cancer. One day after school we went to the wall and someone had ruined all of our art. Messy black indiscernible paint all over the top of it. That was the end of it. What could we do? Duane thought he knew who the villain was. But we never did anything about it. Should have kicked his ass.