Read Uncaged for Free Online Page A

whine—it didn’t matter. He had his rules and he had his consequences, and that was it.
    If you had a beef with another kid, you could tell someone. If you were being picked on, you could talk to Bob or to one of the counselors, and you wouldn’t get punished for asking for help. Bob always told us that we were a family. We were
his
family. He was the dad, and we were his sons, which meant we were all supposed to be brothers, just like in a real family. If a kid was bullying someone, Bob would take one of the older boys aside, one of the popular boys, and say, “That guy’s got a problem picking on the younger kids. Maybe you could have a talk with him.”
    If the beef was more serious, Bob would say, “OK, get the gloves and go to the living room.” He’d move the couches and sofas out of the way, and you’d have a little boxing match. Then he would make you hug each other and take responsibility for your part in the beef.
    If you’d done something more serious, told a lie or stolen something from another boy, there were punishments. First you’d get excluded from things—you wouldn’t be allowed to play in the football game, or you wouldn’t be invited for the tubing trip on the river. Next, you’d get something taken away—your radio or, if you were older, your car keys. Maybe you wouldn’t be allowed to go visit your girlfriend. Next, you’d get the road crew.
    If you couldn’t straighten up, you were out. Bob had all the patience in the world for a kid who tried to be good, but not as much for a kid who wouldn’t try. Some of these kids were tough city kids who’d been pretty bad. They didn’t last very long.
    It all felt very safe to me. After an hour, I just knew: Bob wasn’t going to lie. He wasn’t going to take advantage of anyone. If he said it was like this, it was like this, every time. He was patient, but he was firm. And he was loving, which I’d never experienced before. I had had no idea what had been going on with me, why I was so unhappy, why I acted out so much. But I was starved for affection.I’d had no one to be affectionate toward. My mother doesn’t hug. She’s a quick-pat-on-the-back sort of person. Joe’s idea of affection was a smack on the head. But now I was around a guy who showed me it was OK to love people and to show them you loved them. He would give you a hug, and let you hug him back. If you were lonesome or sad, and you started crying, he’d hold you and let you cry.
    This was a brand-new thing for me. Even when we were being punished, we knew we were loved. Bob would say, “You’re a good kid, you’ve got a good heart, and I love you. I’m sorry you’re being punished.” You absolutely understood that he didn’t stop loving you just because you’d screwed up.
    The first time I got punished, he said, “I love you, and it’s very important for me that you know this. What you’ve done is serious, and this is your punishment. But I’m doing it because I love you and I want you to act like a good kid.” I’d never felt anything like it. It was the first time I had ever heard anyone say, “I love you” and mean it. With Joe, when you were in trouble, he’d sit you down and say, “Who loves you?” and you’d have to answer him, “You do, Joe.” “And who does all this stuff for you?” “You do, Joe.” Then he’d beat the shit out of you. With Bob, you could feel the love. If you screwed up, you knew you had disappointed him, but you also knew he wouldn’t stop loving you, no matter what. I wanted to make him proud of me.
    For a while, it seemed like everything was working. I really enjoyed being there. I couldn’t imagine ever leaving. But it was difficult for me to stay good. I hadn’t changed all that much. I was still drinking and smoking pot, acting