Rico wasn't much lower than that of New York. By the time I was five years old, we had wound up filing for welfare and moved into one of the worst projects on the island, "Torre De Savana." It was there that my strength and determination began to be nurtured as I dealt with the struggles that accompanied poverty and lack. Overall, the experience was awful, yet it made me tough and capable of dealing with multiple problems simultaneously. For many, life has a way of going from bad to worse in the blink of an eye. It wasn't long before the crack epidemic consumed the entire island, and nobody was exempt, not even Mom. Eventually, Mom and I lost our apartment in the projects and wound up on the streets of Carolina, Puerto Rico, where "hustling" was the everyday agenda, and boy, was Mom a hustler. It was in those times that I learned how to understand and read people. Mom was what I call an expert "people reader." Her talents often got us out of what could have turned out to be life-threatening situations. She taught me not to be ashamed to ask for help, to read the eyes and know when someone has bad intentions, and most importantly, to overcome my fears and push through life's difficulties against all odds. Like good things, all bad things come to an end for a time. My grandparents received word from other family members that we weren't doing so well. Sometimes, pride could keep you from crying out for help. I moved back to New York when I was about eight years old to live with my grandparents while my mom began to get her life straightened out. Grampa and Grama's house was a whole different world. Grampa was an avid real estate investor and construction boss in the union, overseeing some of New York's most significant building projects, building the World Trade Center, Battery Park, and TRUMP Tower. He was among the most demanding people I've ever known. He would take me to some of his projects as a
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