Hi buddy. Hey, good time to tell you. Can we talk something else? Can we talk about something else?

Hello. Out there. On November the 12th of 1957,

Paul Dennis Reed Jr. was born in Richmond Hills, Texas, and it's safe to assume he immediately got to work, being difficult.

You might think that unfair to assume a baby would have been difficult because of what they would eventually become.

But when the home life is in disarray, when the nest is unwelcoming, cold and poorly constructed, a baby doesn't warm it up, doesn't fix it.

A baby cries and demands attention, which, let's be honest, doesn't bode well for their chances at being treated properly.

I often wonder how much of our personalities, our capacity for love, mercy, empathy, is decided and still nurtured when we are just a baby.

I think maybe a lot. And of Paul Reed Jr.'s early years, what we know for a fact, is that there wasn't a whole lot of structure for the boy.

He had sisters, that he liked well enough, eventually too much when puberty struck.

He had a mother, Josephine Marie, who was unhappy, had married young to escape the heat of an abusive home only to find herself in a frying pan, simmering in the needs of children,

dependent upon her pickled husband, Paul Reed Sr., who rarely, plopped in the bacon.

The Reed's had no car, but that wasn't completely necessary in Sr.'s line of work.

He was a repo man, and would use public transit to get to an assignment, fueling up from a flask on the slow rumbling journey to his dangerous assignments.

Repo work in the early 60s, in Texas, wasn't as legitimate as the proud services on television today.

Sr. was basically a car thief, dependent upon his wit, send his willingness to dole out violence in order to get the job done.

And most times he did, returning home, not by bus, but by repossessed vehicle, though the money he'd make would often dilute and trickle into a bar till before it made its way into Josephine's dishpan hands.

By the time Paul Reed Jr. was supposed to be entering kindergarten, his mother had had enough.

She split with her derelict husband and divided up the kids, dropping Paul and one of the girls into the rambling repo man's lap where they didn't sit well.

The duty of raising young Paul Reed felt to his paternal grandmother, who was ill-prepared at her age to be thrown back into the demanding role of mother to,

to energetic little kids, rather than being enrolled in school, Paul just kinda sat around.

Well, that's not true, actually. Paul never stayed still for long. He filled this time with mischief, committing petty crimes like stealing mail and laundry from neighbors, as well as terrorizing his poor grandmother.

Barricading her in her room most mornings just to mess with the frail woman.

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