Black Hills Gang
Not too far from Albuquerque is a small town called Ruidoso, which is in Lincoln County. If you're into western lore, or more strangely, into Emilio Estevez movies, Lincoln county is a hotbed of history featuring “Billy the Kid” among an all-star cast of outlaws, secessionists, and miscreants. I have visited the county and saw no bandits or gunslingers and excepting the questionable food from the local BBQ joint, I was unmolested for the duration of my visit (yes food can molest you). However, this is not always the case here in Albuquerque. In fact, I have been threatened with all manner of weapons.
While the lethality of the weapons might be questioned, the creativity of those who brandish the weapons is above reproach. I have been attacked by bandits masquerading as ninjas, who yell loudly and travel on bikes, storm troopers armed with the latest Nerf arsenal, and a pack of grinning Cheshire Cats armed with water guns. Walter White and his band of meth slinging minions? No, not hardly. However in their own way they are just as dangerous. (cue the foreboding music) Allow me to introduce:
The Black Hills Gang. (Dun du Dahhhhhhhh!)
The gang is a loose confederation of boys who roam our neighborhood in search of available snacks, mischief and a safe haven to avoid showers.
When we moved into our home in Albuquerque (situated on Black Hills Court) we knew no one west of the Mississippi. This changed as a young man and his friend watched cautiously as we unloaded the trailer. The local boys and my sons first acknowledged the others’ existence from afar. Then began simultaneous, but independent shows of physical prowess….basketball shots, drive by scooterings, and then with all due caution the boys approached each other from opposite ends of the cul-de-sac. I watched this unwind with David Attenborough narration running through my head, like a nature film. “Hey Dude” from my son and “Hey and Hi” from the local kids. Contact was made! The boys played for a while and then retreated to their corners. My sons didn’t know the names of the boys but there was a connection. In a few days’ time, I found them all on the couch, barely acknowledging me, playing video games, and I knew a friendship was formed.
The gang had a few rough patches as minor tiffs erupted in brief violence, but soon the hierarchy was established and the confederation formed. I have watched these boys now for several months and I haven’t been able to determine who the leader is. I think that the leader shifts based on the whims of the group, the day of the week, and the wind. Preference is obviously given to the boy “whose idea it was”….and there are often long and protracted negotiations regarding rules and complicated planning sessions for the various plots and raids. However, the gang operates with extreme efficiency.
Like the gangs of New Mexico lore, the Black Hills Gang uses chaos and disarray to their maximum benefit. Since they are obviously incapable of stealth, a successful raid on the refrigerator usually begins with one or two boys entering through the garage and distracting the adult. As a defending adult, it is impossible to resist the urge to tell the boy to remove dirty shoes and to stop jumping from one couch to the other. As the tenor of your voice rises the trap is set and the rest of the gang quickly enters the kitchen through the front door and strips the snack cabinet clear in 15 seconds. Another tactic I have experienced is the Piranha attack. Here, one boy spots a food item and with a pitched voice says “We have grapes!?!” and like a pack of ravenous neo-tropical fish they descent on the grapes, barely managing not to bite one another’s fingers. Before anything can be done, the bowl is left spinning on the table, forlorn and denuded of fruit, the branches barely peeking over the edge of the bowl. The gang makes a quick escape and rides to the next unsuspecting target.
This past weekend the boys were circling the kitchen, now and again, like hungry wolves, one would bravely poke his head into the lighted kitchen to inspect. I was ready for them each time and chased them away as much for the fun of it as because I was elbow deep in cleaning the sink, and dinner was gonna have to wait. Eventually, I heard a brief discussion and the gang mounted their trusty steeds (bikes) and headed out to the neighboring house. By the time it occurred to me what their plan was it was too late to warn the poor unsuspecting folks….the gang descended on their kitchen! I can only imagine the chaos of a quiet dinner interrupted.
My wife, returning from the local burrito stand (lament easterners, that you do not have Golden Pride, Carne Adovada Burritos) had anticipated the gang’s attack, but arrived too late to appease the ravenous horde, and thus spare the neighbor. The gang’s innate ability to find quick and handy food alerted them to the new scavenging opportunity and they returned to my home, still chewing whatever they found at the last house, and waded into the sack of burritos with abandon. It was terrifyingly amazing.
A gang of young boys may be the most destructive force on the planet. Water is often given that title but I think the scientists who make the claim are missing the obvious. However powerful, the gang can be stopped. I have stopped them cold by turning on Ben 10 cartoons. They stop mid-stride as they hear the pop and whine of the TV turning on. Generally the horde is repelled by soap, and takes great strides to hide on shower night. They can also be tracked. It is possible to know where in the house they are by following the trail of snack wrappers, and the hideout, den, or “fort” will have a particular odor, best described as “gym socks a la boy”.
The gang is definitely a force to be reckoned with. Call it a subtle nod to Lord of the Flies, Stand by Me, or The Sandlot, but watching the gang operate has a certain natural beauty. It’s great to see the boys out and about being boys. Getting hurt, making friends and doing the slightly stupid stuff that builds character. (For example, the other day I watched them take turns standing in front of the automatic pitching machine to get pummeled by whiffle balls) The neighborhood has made our transition here so much smoother and I really believe that the little experiences now will help them stay safe when the stakes are higher. It’s also comforting to have a neighborhood where we can let them roam, let them police themselves a bit, and learn the rules of society; through the lens of their own, slightly twisted, obscure and nuanced little universe where Legos still rule and a Hot Pocket and Kool-Aid lunch is as good as it gets.
