That Old Gang of Mine is my third volume in this series about Lawrence, my hometown. The word hometown means many, different things to different people. It is a word that has numerous meanings for me also. Some of them are good and some of them are bad. Lawrence, Massachusetts was not a pretty place when I was growing up there way back when. It is even less pretty today. The paint on the old tenements was often bubbling and peeling. The railings on the steps could be wobbly and often there was a wooden step to be avoided here and there. All the apartments were filled with used or secondhand furniture. Our clothes were often hand-me-downs ... as were our bicycles, scooters, wagons, baseball bats, gloves and toys of whatever type. There was very little money floating around in my hometown. Nobody I knew or hung out with had much to spread around or to brag about. Our parents were tight fisted and so were we. It was not just a matter of nickels and dimes, even pennies mattered. My hometown was not an easy place to be a child ... or an adult for that matter. All was not sweetness and light. But it is where I was dropped ... for better or worse, for richer or poorer. The word hometown to me is synonymous with friendship. I met most of my best friends there in the streets and out on the street corners. It is where I learned most of what I think I know. It is where I got my values. It is where I learned what mattered. It is where I learned who mattered. I've taken my hometown and all my old buddies with me wherever I've gone. They have served me well. In these pages and books, I've done my best to share all my old pals with all of you. I do hope that these stories and the knowledge of "That Old Gang of Mine" will serve you as well as they have served me. Cheers