Julio Who Is My Neighbor (Part 2) Trying to Get Everything Back
Julio, who is my neighbor, sits six feet away from me under a voluptuous Chinese elm tree that casts a welcome shadow on his front yard. The afternoon is warm, typical for Southern California even in December. We each sit on a light green Adirondack-style chair and settle in for our recorded conversation.“I’d like to know the story of how you moved to this house because this is the house that makes you my neighbor.”Because Julio is soft-spoke, I lean in a bit. Also, Julio’s house stands at the busy end of our block. His yard seems to catch the din of passing traffic, distant sirens, and the rumble of trash trucks grinding forward in low gear after stopping every 15 feet to tip trash bins into their nether regions.Julio says, “I’m trying to get everything back." Wondering if I've heard correctly, I ask, “You lost everything before coming to this house?”“Yeah. Apartment. Job. Health. Car. A couple of friends. Everything.”There is no bitterness in his voice. No sign of stress in his body. He appears relaxed. His baseball hat affirms his statement as well as his tone: TRUE.
Max Out
“I’m not mad at nobody. I’m not mad at the friends I lost. I’m not mad that I got hurt that bad. I’m not mad about any of that. To me, I gotta max out.”He’s lost me. “You gotta what?”“Max out,” he replies. “I gotta max out. I gotta try to get the maximum. If this is what it takes for me to max out, at least I know what my limits are, you know. You never know what you’re capable of until you reach it. I’m not saying that in a, how can I say, in a careless sense or a reckless sense. I’m saying that as a cognitive educator.“I gotta try as much as I can do to not hurt myself. I didn’t willingly have a heart attack. I didn’t willingly get three herniated discs in my lower back. That wasn’t a conscious thing.“What was a conscious thought was I have to work, I have to try my best at whatever I’m doing. I’m from New York, so it’s like that one job you’re going for, there’s a million other people willing to take that job for less pay. So I was brought up that you gotta try your best. Because if I fail, there’s nobody else that’s gonna help me or say, 'It’s ok, try again.'”
We Just Don’t Know
Writing now, weeks after our conversation, I have to pause. With each neighbor interview I run up against a truth I know, but one I need reminding of: We just don’t know. From appearances alone, I don’t know who people are or what they carry. Appearances tell us next to nothing about another soul. But how often do I spin a full-blown narrative based on the slightest observation? Unless I stop and examine my comfortable assumptions, they lead me astray every time! And I miss the person right in front of me.Julio continues, “I’ve lived in 50 or 55, closer to 60 different places. I’m only 42. That’s more than one house a year on average. I moved around. Moved around. Moved around. So I was never able to relax and kinda get comfortable. I had to learn how. That’s how I learned to appreciate everything.“That’s why I say I try to see the best in everything. Because if I look at the worst in it, I’ll go crazy.”
The Point System
Julio then talks about the Point System. I’m a little lost, so he explains it to me. Gesturing toward a disheveled Caucasian guy wandering along the other side of the main street, Julio says, “I won’t argue with that guy. He’s not making any sense at all. He’s in a worse position than I am. He has more to gain out of bringing me down to that level. I will lose points.“But if there’s somebody of my intellect, my prowess, and my knowledge and we get into a debate, I stand to gain points. As in shared knowledge, exchanged knowledge. So that’s something that I’ll engage in. If it’s an ignorant argument, it’s baseless and they are doing it for show, trying to make a scene, I’m gonna walk away from it. But if it means something, and a person wanna talk about it, both of us stand to gain points. And why not do that? When I applied the Point System, it carried me through life.“It’s something I learned in... I would say in combat."
Combat
I interrupt. “Combat? So, you have to help um, to explain. Define combat for me because you're not military combat.”Julio takes a breath. “They would call it...they would call it...To me it’s worse, a lot worse.”I repeat his words, “It’s worse. Worse than military combat.” These are not questions.“Yes,” he nods. “Worse than military combat for the fact that it was guerrilla warfare. And I have no right to carry a gun.”Trying to suss things out, I repeat his words again. “Guerrilla warfare. You have no right to carry a gun. Are you using a poetic word for gangs?”“Yes, ma’am," he replies without hesitation. "To me it wasn’t a gang when I was brought in. And it was never meant to be that.”Julio, who is my neighbor, and I sit in the shade of the elm tree. To the walkers passing by, we look like folks taking the afternoon easy. And I am at ease as Julio tells me that years before he became my neighbor he was a gang member. This unexpected news is just the start our conversation.
Nobody Got Your Back
"I always had to make my own way. There were points in time where people say, 'Hey, you know what man? I see how you doin' your thing and know nobody got your back. I got your back.' And I was like, Why? They like, 'Because we be friends for a while, and you know this is what I do.' I’m like, Ok.“He kept on reaching out to me like, 'Yo, you should join my family.' And I’m like, That’s not for me. I got my own back. He was like, 'We know you got your own back. All of you need to get your own money. But, we just like a family. We take care of each other.' And I'm like, Naw, that’s not for me.“I end up getting jammed up and sent to Rikers.” He says this as if mentioning the time.I sputter, “Get...wait, wait. Sent to Rikers? You need to tell me about that."A quick Google search confirms that when Julio was there, Rikers Island was known as the most notorious jail in America.
Sent To Rikers
“I mean, it wasn’t a bad time, like, as I’m living in there. Cause it wasn’t a survival thing.” Does he mean a survival thing like not as bad as trying to survive on the street? Or a survival thing like his position was more secure day to day than that of others in Rikers?“But it was a bad time in the sense that I was missing the ....”Street noises surge over his last word. I repeat him for the recording, but I say, “Missing the world.” When transcribing, I realize he said outside. He was missing the outside. How often do I take my life outside for granted? The freedom to come and go when and where I please? Julio does not take any of this for granted.“I end up getting moved next to the head of the building. I don’t know why he requested it, but I got moved out of my dorm to another dorm next to him. I’m like, All right. What you want? He said, ‘Hassan is one of our brothers and we’re like a family. Hassan spoke highly of you.’ That was all.“He (the head of the building) got me visits. He got me sneakers. He got me clothes. I was getting to see people. I was getting to reach out and just talk to people. I was getting letters, I was getting calls, I was getting money in my account. All for just being myself. Just being regular.
There Was A Cost
“They would always say, ‘Hey man, can I talk to you? Cause I need your advice.’ I always had to deal with them, so it’s not like it came without a cost. There was a cost to it.I try to keep up with the story. “Wait. What would they ask you to do? They asked you…”“To give them advice,” Julio completes my sentence. “Just advice.” “Oh!” I say. “They came to you for your wisdom.”“Yeah, but I still had to go through more than whatever a regular person… sent in Rikers. When I came out I had to do a month worth of things. Day and night.”After Rikers, Julio began thinking of a major move. A move far from combat and the family in New York. But he had to “earn his stripes” to come to California in 2004.Julio, who was my neighbor*, continued telling me the story of how he moved into the house that made us neighbors. And I’ll continue sharing it here with you. But for now, a pause so that we can digest all of this.*On New Year’s Day, Julio, his wife and their son moved to their own apartment in Temecula. He sent me a text with a picture of his new view. I’m so happy for them all, especially for Julio who needs room for quiet and for his art. I’m sad for me, because I found each of our conversations surprising and deeply meaningful. 
The project Who Is My Neighbor works as a socially engaged art practice on several levels. You play a part. Listening to each other is one of the most generous gifts we give each other. Thank you for spending time with me listening to Julio.
