I learned how to make time bombs in the 10th grade. We would take a smoke bomb and put a filter-less cigarette on the end of it. We would light the cigarette, place it on the stem of the smoke bomb, place it in an inconspicuous place and about 10 minutes later it would go off. The one time I did this that I remember was at the door of Mrs. Bolden’s English class. I set it up, went inside and became the model student. That should have been a hint that I was up to something. I was actually paying attention and acting interested in the class. About 10 minutes into the class smoke began to bellow under the door and out in the hall. It was a big time mess. I think the alarms went off and we had to evacuate the class. It was the perfect crime. They never knew I did it. About 20 years later, after becoming a Christian, I went back to Forest Hills to find Mrs. Bolden to apologize to her. She was a meek, nice and unassuming teacher. I shouldn’t have done that. I could not find her. She was probably dead by that time.
Another time in her class I was doing purple microdot. It was an acid. It caused you to hallucinate in some of the wildest ways. I was setting on the end row, next to the wall. My head was laying on the desk and all of a sudden I saw the desk going up into the air in a roller coaster type motion. It was really wild. I said something about it, but I can’t remember what happened after that. I think Mrs. Bolden ignored it. I think she had a clue about what was going on.
I had a specially made jacket with several inside pockets. This was my drug jacket. I would go to the restroom at break and open it up and folks would shop for what they wanted. It was mostly joints of various sizes and brands. Robby supplied me with the drugs, I would give him the money and make a little profit on the side. It was careless days for sure. We lived out in the open, more or less, with our drugs. It was a different culture than today.
During the 10th grade I began skipping school a lot. This was the fruition of my “I don’t really give a damn” days. I was angry and frustrated with life. I decided I would do whatever I wanted. This attitude was short-lived. I was arrested and put in jail. That was a good thing. As fast as I went up, I came back down to earth and begin to think of another strategy for my life.
The one big positive highlight was sitting in my typing class with Mrs. Russian was my substitute teacher. She was trying to get to know us and she asked us our names, first, middle and last. She asked mine and I told her and she wrote this on the chalkboard: “R. L. Thomas”. She stepped back, looked at it and said, “You are going to be famous someday. Your name sounds important.” I never forgot that. It was probably the most encouraging thing to happen to me during these years. Many years later I went back to Monroe and tried to find her as well. I think I did. I called her (or a lady named Mrs. Russian) and told her the story and that I’d like to come visit with her. She thought I was a kook and would not tell me where she lived. She was probably 70 by that time.