I remember one day, while living at 56 St. Nicholas Ave as a small child, probably around 4 years old, grandma took us over to Darryl's house on 111th st to play. We were all sitting on the floor playing and having a good time. Aunt Earlene, Darryl's mom, came into the room, looked at Darryl and took him into the back room. All of a sudden we heard Darryl screaming and crying so loud as if he was getting a whoopin', and a bad whoopin' at that. We were all scared and I started saying, "he didn't do anything", "he didn't do anything". Since he didn't do anything, we thought we could or would be next. We did not understand why or what was happening.
Later in life I understood that Darryl was experiencing an extremely painful Sickle Cell episode.