My home away from home was Maple Avenue. Several of my friends lived there and we built a fort behind Billy K’s garage. Back then in the center of the block was a gravel parking lot and some storage garages owned by a local undertaker named Travis Corey. Like me, a bunch of feral cats had also made the place home.

On the opposite side of that gravel parking lot from the fort was the back gate leading into the Fee’s backyard. For some reason my friends and I singled out the Fee family for abuse. They were God fearing people, very active in our parish, hardworking, and had adopted two sons Peter and Marty. Even to a former vandal, the psychology of it remains inscrutable.

As vandals go, we were pretty creative. Sometimes it was blatant like throwing nuts at the front of the house. Other nights we might go in their backyard and simply rearrange the patio furniture. A little calling card saying that we would come and go as we pleased and do whatever we wished.

For a while there we used to walk around with adjustable wrenches in our back pockets so we could remove their back gate and put it behind one of the garages. One night there was a flat bed truck with a bunch of junk in the back parked outside one of the garages. So we took off the Fee’s gate and tossed it in with the rest of the junk.

We had a special way of concluding our activities at the Fee’s. They had a basketball rim up on a metal pole in the yard. From the parking lot we would bend down and pick up some of the rocks and start throwing stones at the pole. It was uncanny but none of us would hit it on the first few tries. But once one of us did hit it, we all would zero in.

The rocks hitting that metal pole made a very loud ping. When hit 5 or 6 times in rapid succession, it could be heard far and wide. The back porch light would go on and we would take off. We called it ringing the bell. Hello Bill and Marie Fee, you have just been vandalized. We wish you luck as you search for your back gate.

Very shortly after throwing the Fee’s gate in that truck the other guys went home. It was just me and Danny Popow hanging out in front of his house. I was sitting on his steps and he was crouched near the sidewalk piling up some leaves and twigs. I then saw Mr. Fee with a flashlight coming down the block. I called to Danny, warning him of Mr. Fee’s imminent arrival.

Whether because I spoke to softly or that he was too engrossed in the fire he was starting, he did not hear my warnings. Just as he got his little fire cooking Mr Fee came up behind him and yelled “Daniel Popow!” I never knew Danny had such hops. He leapt about three feet in the air.

Danny’s pyromania left us in a poor position to deny our involvement in gategate. So we began walking back to the garbage scow to retrieve the Fee’s gate. As we went, Mr. Fee began to preach.

“God will punish you for this, Daniel” said Mr. Fee. “You better straighten yourself out before he does.” In retrospect, perhaps I should have been a little insulted at this homily being exclusively directed at Danny.

We arrived at the truck and Danny was instructed to climb up and toss down the gate. While he was up there Mr. Fee began to elaborate on the punishment that Daniel could look forward to. This pushed Danny to the breaking point and he began to sputter. Danny is one of the weakest people in the world in terms of keeping himself from laughing when he absolutely should not.

To avoid laughing in Mr. Fee’s face, Danny threw the gate down on one side of the truck then jumped down on the other side. But he kept making that goofy snorting noise he makes when he is trying to keep from laughing. It does sound a little bit like crying so Mr. Fee began asking Danny if he was alright. Danny said he had twisted his ankle and Mr. Fee took that opportunity to state; “You see, God punished you Daniel.”

Mr. Fee started walking around the truck to check on Danny. Now struggling more mightily to contain his mirth, Danny began walking as well. God knows why but Danny felt the need to affect a fake limp in doing so. It must have been for my benefit because Mr. Fee couldn’t see him.

For some reason, Mr Fee continued his pursuit of Danny and his injured leg for several laps around the truck. Mr. Fee pointing out the swiftness of divine retribution while Danny listened, limped, and laughed. Eventually Mr Fee caught up with Danny and determined that any injuries were minor. So we put the gate back on and bid Mr. Fee a good evening.