In 1981, my family emigrated from Russia and landed in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.  Our first car was a white Plymouth Volare with a maroon vynal top.  I matriculated at a local yeshiva where I studied English, mathematics and the Torah. But after school, on the streets there was hype about a good looking Jew with long hair and a fit body.  Guys even had him cast in gold hanging on their necks. So one day, I asked the head rabbi when we're going to read the "other bible." I was swiftly transferred to public school.  Picture a chunky Russian Jewish walking around the halls in nylon socks and sandals trying to find his place among Italians, Latinos and African Americans.  There was no other bible class.  I was being cooked alive in the Brooklyn melting pot of NYC.  So, I did what anyone would do - I learned how to graffiti walls and breakdance to Run DMC.  And dad bought me a pair of Pony's.  Things started to fall into place.