My First Car (Corner It)

 

Not that long ago and relatively close by.

I am Joseph’s first car that was passed down to him by his Dad in 1973. I’m a 1967 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser station wagon. I am a full-sized station wagon and I have eight cylinders and that popular fake wood paneling and a luggage rack. When I was brand new I was without a doubt a very handsome station wagon with fixed-glass, roof-mounted skylights over the second-row seating with sun visors for the second row passengers, a raised roof behind the skylight and lateral glass panels over the rear cargo area along the raised roof — and three rows of forward-facing passenger seating. My sky light window over the second row of seats was very striking and it is something that no other cars had.  I could easily seat nine or even ten people inside and I also had a rear tailgate with a retractable electric window. My exterior paint color was called “Silver Moss,” by General Motors. It’s a silvery light green color that matches my second owner’s Joseph’s eyes. I’m lying,  Joseph's eyes are brown and  in his eyes I was not cool. Not cool at all and he let me know this with his 20 year old sass, every  time he drove me. But he didn’t keep me for long because he sold me to an acquaintance after only two months because he had a better option. Here above is a picture of a car just like me since we can’t seem to find an actual picture of me.   Joseph certainly did not bother to take any and if his dad took my picture I don’t know about it.    

My most interesting time as a car was when Joseph’s Dad still owned me but he allowed Joseph’s slightly older brother Martin to drive me when we were in High School. Yup he had a car load of teenage boys with him and fortunately Joseph was along for the ride too as you shall see. Yup the teens had been smoking funny stuff on that very night.  They drove me up a curvy secluded road to South Mountain Reservation which means going up a very steep and long dark curving road going up up up.  South Mountain Reservation is a nature reserve covering 2,110 acres on the Rahway River that is part of the Essex County Park System, in northeastern New Jersey, United States. After going up the steep hill we came back down it again on as I have said, a dark curving road and the kids in the car started engaging in some horseplay by shouting at my driver Martin to, “Corner it Martin" as he sort of sped down the hill. My tires were making what the kids thought was a cool sound as they squealed on the curves to more shouting of, “Corner it Martin!” I don’t recall if Joseph was shouting this too. To be truthful, I mostly remember it was Barry and his brother Rowan and other friends Regus and Bernie (yes the friends names have been changed to protect the not so innocent) who were doing all the shouting.  It should come to you as no surprise that although I as a car, could handle all of this misuse my driver Martin, could not.  He missed cornering this one curve, lost control of me and ran me right off the road into a thicket of trees! We crashed sideways into some  trees but thank God they were smallish trees that didn’t stop us dead. Eventually we broke through the trees into a clearing and my driver braked to a stop and cut my engine off and the shaken and stirred but not hurt teenagers piled out of me. They were some lucky little blokes as they stood around me in open mouthed shock! There is more. Their luck almost ran out because, I was still in drive with no parking brake set and on a hill overlooking a lake at the bottom of the hill. I didn’t want to move, but gravity made me and I started rolling down the hill faster and faster to presumably plunge into the lake at the bottom. Lucky for everyone present, Joseph reacted and chased after me and so did Barry. Joseph climbed into my open back tail gate window, had to scramble over three sets of seats and just in time pressed down on my brake pedal with his arms and hands to stop my roll into the lake, where I probably would have Chappaquiddicked Joseph. Barry also assisted in stopping me from taking the plunge by chasing me, climbing in though the driver’s door and throwing my shift column into park just as Joseph got me stopped. 

As a car, I didn’t exactly see my life’s story passing before me, but I did see plenty of trees and tree limbs rushing by and smacking me up against the windows and along my right side making loud whacking and crunching sounds that seemed to go on forever. But I was a good car who after taking such a bad licking kept on ticking. To all of our surprise, the boys were able to get me started and all four of my tires were still intact. Together, we were able to laboriously get me out of the clearing, back through the trees we had crashed through and back out onto the road. After that Mr. Martin, our intrepid driver drove me clattering and wobbling all the way back home to face the music.   

As to what happened to Martin and Joseph after they dropped off the rest of my passengers and finally arrived home after midnight!? That is another story, but it ended well since not one of the boys had a scratch on them. I the car was not so lucky.  Alas, my entire right side was smashed to smithereens! I would forever be viewed after this accident as a banged up, Rolling Total yet I, a 1967 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser Station Wagon, had kept my passengers safe! That was something I was proud of for the rest of my service life. I also think that Joseph was just a little bit proud of me too. After all, he did help me write my story.

Happy Motoring! But I strongly urge you to never allow your teenagers to drive a car transporting more than one passenger under the age of 21, excluding family members. Trust me, it's a very bad idea.

Plane Rage//////////

On the flight to Houston from Atlanta I witnessed plane rage for the first time. A  man who boarded halfway through the boarding process sat up front but he had to stow his carryon bag a few seats behind him on the plane. Once we landed and taxied in, many passengers got up from their seats while the man made his way towards the back to retrieve his bag. The trouble started when he was on his way back up to his seat.  He said excuse me to another man standing in the aisle to get past him but the guy wouldn't budge and said to him, "Just wait, none of us are going anywhere till they let us out." "But I just went back there to get my bag," he explained. Nevertheless the man obstinately refused to let him by. This prompted him to call to his friend up front saying, "I need your help, take my bag," and he angrily shoved his bag over the blocking man's shoulder into his friend's waiting hands while bumping the guy on the shoulder. Then without pause he shoved his own way past the man blocking him who tried to resist but he shoved him off balance and the guy almost landed in someone else's lap. Next came a  round of loud cussing between the two men using the "F" word then things died down because the line had now started to move towards the plane's exit. No further escalation occurred after the heated exchange. The flight attendants either didn't want to get involved or were unaware of anything happening. Only the other passengers in the area myself included saw and heard everything and we were very surprised and disapproving about the behavior we had just witnessed. 

I don't understand why this plane rage happened.  We only had a slight departure delay from ATL maybe only ten minutes.  Once in the air there was some air turbulence but nothing too scary although the captain did cancel the in flight services for refreshments and snacks. Upon our arrival into Houston airspace towards the end of our flight there was another slight delay. The captain made another announcement that we would have to go into a holding pattern due to storm activity in the area but that delay turned out to be very brief, only for about five minutes then we landed. I suppose plane rage and road rage happen for the same reasons. It's really  about what's going on in someone's life and not really about the inconvenience that someone else causes you -even if they are rude.  Both parties on that plane acted unreasonably towards each other. Even though one of them started the trouble things did get a little violent and that was uncalled for. 

Giuseppe and the Saint

 

In 2004 my law business was in a financial crisis and I had decided that I badly needed to diversify and start doing some family law cases which previously I hated the whole idea of doing. But I found myself fumbling around late in my career, trying out family law but I had no idea how to go about doing that.

Then one fine day I bumped into Larry at the courthouse. Larry was a lawyer I had met some 20 years earlier when we both worked at the same law firm and when we were fresh out of law school. Back then we were coworkers and not really friends however, we gave each other nicknames just for fun. For some reason known only to Larry, he started calling me Giuseppe which is the Italian form of my name Joseph even though Larry is not Italian. My nickname for him was Saint Larry because he was such the opposite of a Saint and I found that amusing. Most people who knew him would agree that Larry was hard to get along with, cussed a lot, had a tendency to lose his temper and was rude to women and men alike but also, he was fun loving and mischievous. He also had a very mischievous smile that I thought was funny.

On that day when we bumped into each other at the courthouse, Larry asked me how I was doing and I think I surprised us both by answering very truthfully that my law business was failing, that I was going broke and that I needed to try doing family law  cases to pick up some new business. Then it was his turn to surprise me!  He warmly asked me  to come see him at his office and said that he would help me get back on my feet. His offer, was such a welcome surprise because I was desperate. I felt so grateful that he would even say this to me. So he made an appointment for me and when I showed up, I discovered that he had a thriving, high volume, family law practice.

During that first meeting he decided that he would become my mentor and that I would be his protégé.  He said I should do some of his Family Court hearings for him and that he would pay me for my work.  

Here are some of the other things Saint Larry did for me as my mentor. I would come by his office once a week on a Thursday or Friday to pick up about ten files for the coming week. When I finished the hearings and dropped off the files he would pay me. Then, he would  hand me another ten files and brief me on each case. As it turned out, the cases I was handling for him involved just about every imaginable situation that was likely to come up in a family law practice. I started rapidly gaining valuable experience in Family Law and he would answer all of my questions.

Because I was handling so many court hearings for Saint Larry I was becoming  more confident and I soon discovered that I had a knack for this type of work, born out by the fact that I had a high success rate on the hearings I was handling for him.

Larry didn’t stop by just helping me financially as a part-time employer. He also spent time with me showing me how to run a family law business of my own. He convinced me to change my law office location to a freeway location so that clients could find me more easily.  He showed me how to do my own yellow page ads and in essence he just told me to imitate his ads, keep them simple and say the word affordable or lower priced somewhere in there.

My association with Saint Larry lasted for a little over a year. By then my own law practice had made a financial come back and I found that I needed to spend more and more time working with my own clients' cases.  I think that was Larry’s plan all along! Lastly, I believe that I Giuseppe helped Saint Larry to get a much-needed break from his heavy caseload. Also I suspect that being his protégé changed him just a little bit. He was warm and respectful towards me but he would yell and cuss at his office staff. But that started to change too. He started treating his staff much better and seemed calmer. 

Larry turned out to be a very good mentor in spite of his having some character issues. He had all the positive traits that a mentor should have and we both benefited from the experience.

I will forever be grateful to Saint Larry’s for his help in my time of crisis. Sadly he passed away in 2020 which I didn’t know about until a year later. Belatedly, I have prayed for Larry to join the real saints in heaven and may God show him  mercy and grace. 

THIS IS MY COUNTRY

 

As a Black man should I celebrate the 4^thof July? I do every year and here is why.

I live here and have raised my family here like my father before me and his before him and so on.

Black men have fought in every war this country has ever had. I have an uncle, a Marine who fought in three of our wars -WWII, Korea and in Vietnam so that I wouldn't have to.

I've seen much of the country from coast to coast and it is beautiful.

Some things we did get right as a nation. I am proud that we have remained a democracy for over 243 years and that we still have both freedom of speech and freedom of religion. 

Also we are a diverse people of all races and cultures living here in America and I like that too.

These are just some of my reasons why I celebrate the 4^th of July every year but you decide for yourself. I know that there are also problems some of them running long and deep. Nevertheless my ancestors paid a heavy price just being here and I'm not going anywhere. This is where I belong, this is my country.

I've shared two links below to two Black artists who sang songs about America. As you listen to them ask yourself if these two men truly believed the words that they were singing? They sold me on it, I believe they too believe, THIS IS MY COUNTRY! 

This is My Country, Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions - 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlF2GzfU7DE

America The Beautiful, Ray Charles - 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FXN1Z6Q004

Photo - That's me on the far left with a group of family members.

The Intensity of Love

One Less Bell To Answer and Hey There Lonely Girl are two of my favorite love songs. The story they tell is not my own story, but the romantic intensity in these two tunes is something that I am very familiar with. First, in Marilyn McCoo's heartbreak song, 'One Less Bell to Answer,' the tears and the sadness of a breakup are right out in front for you to feel. As a young man when I first heard this song, my heart jumped in my chest. I felt such strong compassion for the young woman in distress that I yearned to comfort her. Then someone else did exactly what I couldn't do. It was singer, Eddie Holman who answered that bell. He came out with his song, 'Hey There Lonely Girl,' which passionately delivered all the love and compassion a brokenhearted young woman would need. His song was heavy-hearted and  achieved just the right 'yearning for love,' touch. Then he sang the very words that I imagined that I would've said. He promised to, "Kiss  her tears away." 

Well said Eddie, you took the words right out of my mouth.

The saga was complete. First came the brokenhearted cry, then a tender response and amazingly both of these songs seem to fit so seamlessly together. It's as if they were part of the same symphony. Don't miss these songs. Below are partial lyrics and links to listen to both of these beautiful songs. May your heart feel these emotions -if you dare. Enjoy the symphony.

                                                   One Less Bell to Answer

The 5th Dimension

One less bell to answer
One less egg to fry
One less man to pick up after
I should be happy
But all I do is cry
(Cry, cry, no more laughter) I should be happy
(Oh, why did he go)

Since he left my life's so empty
Though I try to forget it just can't be done
Each time the doorbell rings I still run
I don't know how in the world

To stop thinking of him
'Cause I still love him so
I spend each day the way I start out
Crying my heart out

One less man to pick up after
No more laughter, no more love
Since he went away (he went away)
(One less bell to answer) Why did he leave me
(Why, why, why did he leave)
(One less bell to answer)
Now I've got one less egg to fry…

(click the link to hear One Less Bell To Answer) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjW_z02EjaA 

Hey There Lonely Girl

Eddie Holman

Hey there lonely girl, lonely girl
Let me make your broken heart like new
Hey there lonely girl, lonely girl
Don't you know this lonely boy loves you

Ever since he broke your heart you seem so lost
Each time you pass my way
Oh, how I long to take your hand
And say don't cry, I'll kiss your tears away

Hey there lonely girl, my lonely girl
Let me make your broken heart like new
Hey there lonely girl, lonely girl
Don't you know this lonely boy loves you

You think that only his two lips can kiss your lips
And make your heart stand still
But once you're in my arms you'll see
No one can kiss your lips the way I will
The way I…

(click the link to hear Hey There Lonely Girl) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzgU5yEdUgI

 mo

I Just Wanna Stop

The whole family circa 1961 

 Most of the family circa 1968

I'm remembering the song, I Just Wanna Stop by Gino Vannelli  because it happens to be one of my favorite songs from the year 1978. The song's lyrics begin with; “When I Think about those nights in Montreal, I get the sweetest thoughts of you and me." When I listen to it now, it's not Montreal, Canada that I think about. Instead I think about my nights and days in  Orange, New Jersey where I once lived.  Isn't it  strange and wonderful how music can bring back our special memories? That year, 1978 was the last year my father was alive and my whole family unit of twelve was intact. After his death, life went on for my mother and her seven girls and three boys. Over the years there have been graduations, marriages, births and  a few of us moving far away. Then in 2001 we lost our mother too. 

Fast forward to the year 2020, now there are only five of us left out of  my original family of twelve. But it is not out of sadness that I write this. I am happy and grateful for the many wonderful experiences and memories I have had with my family. I've also added quite a few new family memories with my own wife and our two children and now with our three grand-children. Also I have nephews, nieces and even some great nieces and nephews. When I hear that song today, I personalize the lyrics a little to say, "I just wanna stop and tell you how I feel -about my family baby," and I feel at peace. The two old photographs in this post also take me back to the days when we were all together.

Some  of the song lyrics appear below, you can click on the title to hear this beautiful song.

I Just Wanna Stop

(For your love, for your love)
When I think about those nights in Montreal
I get the sweetest thoughts of you and me
Memories of love above the city lights
Ooh, I've tried so hard to take it
But oh Lord my heart won't make it

I just want to stop
And tell you what I feel about you babe
I just want to stop
I never want to live without you babe
I just gotta stop
For your love...

A Tribute

A tribute to my sisters Lydia & Lea whom I will miss and who's art and laughter the world will.

When the moon is in the Seventh House

And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets...
When the moon is in the Seventh House
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars
This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius
Age of Aquarius
Aquarius
Aquarius
Harmony and understanding
Sympathy and trust abounding...

Both art majors and graduates of Montclair State University in the late 60s  free spirits who accomplished many groovy things in life. Lydia, went to live in Paris, France to pursue photography and later lived in London, England as well as Los Angeles, California -very groovy. Lydia has two groovy children. Lea became a Pan Am flight attendant and worked on a Pan Am Boing 747 "Clipper" jet and literally flew all over the world in a groovy heavy. Lea has two groovy children.

Lydia (left side of photo) sunset May 20, 2018

Lea sunset May 5, 2017

JAZZ . 1977 (The Lost Album)

The song It Happens Everyday from the album Free as the Wind by The Crusaders (formerly The Jazz Crusaders); is an exceedingly beautiful jazz composition. It kept finding its way into my Spotify App's "Liked" songs library over the past two years. For this reason, I finally checked it out to see where this Crusaders tune has been hiding for all of my life. Those of you who've read my previous blog post, Jazz Album Found after long search; know that I am a huge Crusaders fan. Upon downloading Free as the Wind, I remembered that I had briefly sampled it back in 77. However, I rejected it because I was disappointed that Wayne Henderson the trombone player had left the group. He was my favorite Crusader; it was he who inspired me to play the trombone myself. On account of this, I never gave the album's tracks a fair listen. I didn't purchase or record the album, I just forgot all about it -until now. 

Two night ago I finally listened to Free as the Wind and I was shocked to hear how good this album was. The album's material is very strong, driving, tense, funky, steamy, infectious, lovely, deep, wistful, melodic and insistently probing. So I've come full circle on this album and now I believe that it's one of the Crusaders finest! And to think I nearly missed out on it out of young and disdainful rashness. For all jazz lovers who want to check it out; click on the link:  Free as the Wind album-The Crusaders. I know you won't be disappointed.

Creativity

Oxford Dictionaries - Creative: Relating to or involving the use of the imagination or original ideas to create something. Would you describe God as being creative? 

Each light is an entire galaxy

The Guardian

I’m okay now and feel a sense of peace but three days ago on Tuesday night, I was in a pity pot and feeling depressed. But later at ten that  night our hot water heater started leaking. I had to spring into action to cut off the gas and drain that sucker with a water hose before it emptied  water all over the laundry room and kitchen floor.  It was a around twelve a.m. before I could get to  bed but the pity pot was gone for good. The following morning on a Wednesday, I went out early to Home Depot to look into buying a new gas hot water heater to replace our old one.  I wasn't able to get the problem fixed that day but nevertheless my day went fine. That same evening, I went for a walk on a walking trail near my home at around six o’clock p.m. to get some exercise. I hardly ever walk in the evening, I much prefer to walk in the morning but the water heater problem took up my morning. As I walked down my usual trail and reached my turn around point, I started back down the other way. It was then that I noticed  a woman and her child riding their bikes towards me on the trail. Nothing much seemed to be amiss  except that the little girl who looked to be about seven years old, was riding a bit wobbly on her bike. Just when we closed the distance between us, the young girl fell over on her bike right in front of me.  Then her mother who was following close behind her ran over her little girl’s back with her front wheel and then also fell over. The mother ended up with her bike resting in a tangled mess right on top of her child who was face down on the ground.  I immediately ran over to them and grabbed both wheels on the mother’s bike and lifted it off the child.   After she was freed from being pinned under her mother's bike the little girl got to her feet. Her mother also got up,  hugged her daughter  and said in disbelief, “I ran over you!”  Then she looked right at me and said, “You were right on time!” I couldn't help but smile and said, “I know, right? Which was all that I could think of to say at that moment because in wonder, I realized that no one else would have been in just the right place and at just the right time to help them!" Had I not changed my walking routine to go in the evening instead of that morning, I would not have been there. A few  long moments later a jogger ran past us but he would have been too late to be of much help. It’s not that I think that this mother and child couldn't have gotten up without my help; but I am certain that it would have been much more difficult. Without help, I believe that it would have been a much more traumatizing experience to them both, I just know it.

Now it's Thursday September 26, 2019 and although progress has been made on our hot water heater project it’s still not fixed. No big deal, although we had to shut off all the water in the house.  Fortunately, we have some bottled water to drink and a couple of buckets of water that I filed up for flushing toilets.  Tonight, though we’re going over to my brother’s house to take showers and we will let tomorrow take care of itself. Now going back to Tuesday, when I started this narrative what was my pity pot all about? Nothing really, I can't even remember why I was feeling down. I am prone to occasional bouts of self-pity. I've known about this tendency for self pity for years and I also know how to combat against it. I simply must do a quick prayer and harness spiritual power to change how I feel. However, sometimes I forget to use this power, you know what I mean?

This brings me now to the title to this piece, The Guardian.  You see, for the past ten years or so, I’ve been inwardly referring to myself as a "Guardian." I'm not a part of the Guardian Angels organization that I admire; who wear those sport, jaunty, red berets on their heads. It's just me. I started calling myself a Guardian in jest because I've had to intervene to help people facing physical danger on several occasions. For example, I once helped a man who fell over backwards in his chair at a restaurant and needed help getting up. Another time, I pulled a teenaged girl out of an overturned car that had crashed right in front of me while I was walking on a trail.  On another occasion, I pulled two women out of their car that was stuck on a train track just moments before a train smashed into it. The train plowed into their car and completely obliterated it but the two women were safe. Also, I once got a little girl down off of a cruise ship railing while at sea.  I don't know what I would've done had she fallen overboard into the sea -but I think I know. Then there's this current incident on the trail when the young girl and her mom fell off their bikes.  

It is my conviction that I have a duty to intervene when something bad happens right in my path. I believe that when I am out and about  I am on my watch! On my watch, I am going to do something to help anyone that needs help. I'll will of course also call the police or the fire department depending upon the circumstances. Hey!? Maybe I should wear a jaunty red beret, right? I do like hats and maybe I should have a t-shirt too with a big G on it for Guardian. Helping others also has it's rewards. It makes me feel good about others and about myself too.  Also feel gratitude to God who has allowed me to help some others. You know, this Guardian thing I do is partly the reason why I work out as much as I do. I work out for four or five times a week split between walking and going to the gym. It's to be in good shape in case I have to spring into action should I be called upon.

There is another aspect to all of this. On occasion I'll encounter someone in public that seems wary of me because I'm a black man. I've prayed not to mind their caution and suspicion and yes their fear. When I sense someone's unease, I'll try to telegraph a positive vibe towards them. One that communicates  something like the vibe in the Doobie Brothers Takin' It To The Streets song, (click on the link). It has lyrics that say, “You don't know me, but I'm your Brother."   

As for the leaking hot water heater at home, a friend who is a plumber replaced it for me on Friday with a brand new one. All is well again with our hot water heater.

Who's Father

Who’s Father?

Our Father! The God we pray to has the name and the heart of a father and we find rest in his love. If you believe that God is our Father then understand that he is also the Father of all men. The Lord’s Prayer does not teach us to pray to My Father, it teaches us to pray to Our Father, Matthew 6:9. The next time you encounter someone racially, socially, culturally or economically different, ask yourself this question; who’s their Father? The answer should be Our Father. It is through this revelation that we can be set free from feeling fear, envy, pride or even hatred towards different people. It's because of Him, the Lord Jesus that we can feel a sense of brotherhood with all men.

S.U.V.

By Alex Hammond - 2003

My brand new SUV. When most people think about SUV's they probably imagine a big shiny new 

Expedition or 4Runner. But when I think of SUV, I think of my not so shiny sport utility van. That is my father's silly attempt at a positive connotation for the minivan. I later grew to loath that term. That's right, I drove a minivan as my first car my junior year of high school. This is a story of the emotional damage of my first car and how I managed to overcome it and actually become a better person. My junior year is the kind of year that would drive any kid into developing a great relationship with their counselor and I don't mean schedule changes.

Imagine a suburban school where the student parking lot looks more like Bill Gates's private collection compared to the teacher parking lot. These kids drive cars that can make any working adult jealous and to tell you the truth, I haven't seen too many teachers hanging around the student parking lot. Now imagine a 1993 green Dodge Caravan Sport. To be honest I really would like to know what “sport” they had in mind when Dodge named that car because it doesn't look sporty to me and I don't play badminton. It had a stylish crack in the window complementing the futuristic box approach that was only a mere shell to the luxuries within. The words“ no a/c” is worth thousands of degrees I mean, words. This particular van was also complemented with the sweet sound of squeaky brakes that could be heard for a two-mile radius. Please try not to drool on my essay I worked hard on it.

But I have to say it; this car is a masterpiece of degradation. It is a true spawn of evil, cursing each occupier with relentless shame and headaches. To shed some light on the situation, it originally came with tinted windows. Tinted windows would have been a blessing, but remember this car is a curse. The tint was peeling and eventually stripped prior to my ownership. Oh yeah, you’re going to love this one; it had an alarm! I can swear that I could take this “SUV” or opportunity cost, as some junkyards would call it, to the most criminally infested area in the world, and I could just leave it there overnight. On top of that, I could leave the keys in the ignition with all the doors wide open with the title taped onto the window next to a note that says “please steal me” and that curse would still be there in the morning, waiting to infect me or it's next victim with its' venomous reputation killing disease. 

Which brings me to my most embarrassing moment. Of course, the alarm has to fail at the worst time possible, keeping in the spirit of the curse. Now I have to open the car in the middle of the school parking lot and manually disarm the alarm, which goes off as soon as I open the door. Which is exactly what I least wanted, to attract attention to myself. So of course, everyone looks and sees me trying to turn off my alarm as I'm ducking trying not to be seen breaking into my own car. Much worse, that car out of all the cars in the parking lot, I had to be breaking into that atrocity. At this point the kid who rides his sisters’ bike to school has more dignity than I do. Oh yeah, and you know how the common myth of high school is that riding the bus is the most undesirable way of getting to school. Oh, how I envied those lucky kids on the bus at that moment.

Driving that monstrosity to school can only compare to one of those low points in one's life where there is nowhere to go but up. Which leads me to part of the story where I succeed and overcome this evil force clinging to my back, holding me down and cramping my style. The only way out is to get rid of it and that I did. I can recall many a time where I left the doors unlocked praying for some angel of peace and resolution (car thief) to steal my car, but no such luck. But during the summer after my junior year I took the initiative and sold my car for $660 more than what I had originally calculated its' total worth. This came out to be a total of $-10 dollars, thus ending the evil curse and relieving the young prince of the dreaded humiliation off of his shoulders. But only getting that eye sore out of my sight is not the way to success. Coming to terms and really being grateful for what I have is the real achievement. Being in that humble position is something that will always constantly remind me to be grateful and not to worry so much about image, which is sort of all you have in high school as sad as it sounds. That is how I overcame my junior year of high school. I learned some important lifelong character lessons; thus, improving my overall quality of life and taking one more significant stride towards self-actualization.

"Everything that happens, happens for a reason” someone once said. Through all the embarrassment and all the indignity the whole experience was worthwhile. One could even go, as far as to say, it was a blessing in disguise. Whatever you call it, it must have something to do with heredity, because my fathers' first car was a station wagon. Now as fate would have it; I am only continuing the family tradition. So someday I can only hope to tell my son when he gets his first car, about the important lesson I learned while driving my very first car, an SUV.

Once a Marine; Always a Marine

Robert Russell Hammond, my “Uncle Bobby” was the son of  a U.S. Army Calvary “Buffalo Soldier.” Uncle Bobby entered the U.S. Marine Corps as one of nearly 20,0000 African-Americans who broke the color barrier during World War II. His boot camp was at MonfortPoint Camp, Jacksonville, North Carolina.  By May 1943 Bobby found himself in action in the Pacific until the war’s end when he returned to civilian life.  However, in 1948 Bobby was called back to active duty for the United Nations peacekeeping action known as the Korean War.  

After Korea he continued his military career  by engaging in three combat tours in Vietnam.  Bobby retired from active duty in August of 1975 as a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps. In June 2012, Master Gunnery Sergeant/Sergeant Major Robert R. Hammond received the Congressional Gold Medal.  Uncle Bobby passed away on May 26, 2016 and was buried with full military honors (including a 21 gun salute) at Cheltenham Veterans Cemetery in Cheltenham, Maryland. 

Semper Fidelis - Always Faithful. The U.S. Marine Corps’ motto sums up the life of Robert Russell Hammond, my “Uncle Bobby” and all Marines who make the commitment on  a daily basis to protect our country by land, sea and air.

Once a Marine, Always a Marine. Uncle Bobby in Vietnam 2^nd from left

Up in the mountains

We use to meet from time to time up in the mountains. Let us return up high to where the air is so clear that we can send a clear transmission. Vader would agree (click).  

Lex Talionis

The Code of Hamurabi the kings law from around 1754 BC predates the Hebrew Bible with it's Lex Talionis "An eye for an eye," doctrine. My interpretation of this principle of law is to insist on adequate monetary compensation for the victims of tort cases that I may represent in my work. 

Laugh and cry

Last night I dreamed I was on  a high tower looking down on people going about their lives below me. Then someone who appeared to be a man climbed up and joined me and asked me, "why are you here?"  I said to him,  "I want to see as many people as possible live out their lives."  "When you go back down," he said, "what will you do for them?" Right then I awoke from my dream and lay awake thinking that I should write down my  thoughts, but I had no writing materials. Instead I grabbed my phone and sent myself an e-mail with some of my thoughts and recollections from my dream. The next morning as I read my e-mail I realized that what I wrote was more like a prayer. A prayer that went something like; "Help me Lord to treat every person I encounter as someone to laugh with or to cry with." "Let me express to each person I find in my path, that they’re funny and that I enjoy laughing with them. But if they are going through something sad, let me walk with them for part of their journey and pray with them to be alright."  

I know that it sounds overly simple and very impractical because some of the people that we meet are either going to be hostile towards us or afraid of us, if not both. Yet, something tells me that this won't be too much of a problem. That's because most of the people we meet on a day to day basis are people just like us who are living out their lives. They are the people I saw from high up on that tower I dreamed of.

Let my record show

Let my record show, that ever since I made Jesus Lord my life has changed.

I was sick now I’m well

I was blind now I see

I was deaf now I hear

I was lame now I run
I was a slave now I'm free

I was dead now I’m alive

I’m not so proud anymore

I still have selfish wants, but now I let go and let God. 

I’m still a sinner, but now I have His power to throw off sin more quickly.  
I had a guilty conscience but now my conscious is clear.

What I received one day was grace and absolution along with healing and this was nothing short of a miracle. 
There is nothing special about me. I did not earn or deserve this grace but the beautiful thing is is that you can have this miracle too by stepping towards God. He will meet you more than halfway there. 

More:

Read Matthew 11:1-6 and enjoy Anointed I Adore You an uplifting music video.

The Great Migration

Europeans migrated to North America (The New World) 400 years ago in great numbers, they often came violently and were unstoppable.  Now the descendants of native Americans come in ever increasing numbers from Mexico and from Central and South America and no wall, no political rhetoric or anyone’s going to stop the great migration. Call it Montezuma’s REAL revenge if you will.  I believe that our pre-historic human migrations, the European migration and today’s world wide migrations of peoples are all natural occurrences in nature. Migrations have always existed just like the ocean tides have always existed because of the gravitational attractions of the sun and the moon on the oceans of the Earth. 

Maybe our efforts as a species would be better spent not fighting these migrations, but in finding new places for people to migrate to. Aside from the Earth's land mass there are also even larger areas right on the surface of our oceans and also under them that people can inhabit. But the ultimate dream would be to travel outwards to new worlds among the stars. I sure hope that we won't find a wall blocking us from where we need to go. But if we do encounter one I'm sure that we’ll find a way past it; it’s in our human nature to overcome obstacles.  

Reflections of a butler (Manservant to a Cave Man)

My employer Nitchee is a bit of an Neanderthal. No actually he is ALL beast! I've seen his quill pen and paper that he keeps locked up in his desk drawer. I've observed him longing to wet his spear again and do some spear whacking. He complains about e-mails yet he knows nothing about computers. Although he pretends to use his computer, I've never seen him write an e-mail.  His computer is an ancient model called a Compaq Presario with less computing power than a first generation smart phone. I think he fears that the more bytes his computer has, the greater the chance it may bite him on his harry a--. But I am only a butler and an unwilling cook and I must go now to make him his bloody steak! No, I'm not English that's how he likes to eat them;  rare and bloody and by the full moon. My brooding employer receives some interesting paper mail in the letter box from time to time. I haven't been able to peek inside of one of those envelopes yet because of those archaic yet effective wax seals. When I bring him his mail to his study he always behaves the same. He'll snatch the envelopes off the silver tray I carry and slam the door in my face. That one is definitely up to something all right and I fear that one day soon; us Cro-Magnum humans are going to have hell to pay. 

Another Washing of the Spears

Dear Texters (Mobil sapiens):

Not long ago the most annoying buzz word was email. All too often I would hear: email me, did you get my email and was often derisively asked, who doesn’t have an email address? So, bowing to immense pressure I got an  email address but that wasn't good enough for you was it. Now the buzz word is texting. It’s text me this, text me that and blah, blah, blah, didn't you get my text? I look on my phone minding my own business and see unsolicited texts waiting there for me. When I call someone on the phone they'll  helpfully suggest, “why don’t you just text me?” Others will sneer at me and say, “I rarely check my emails, try texting me and maybe next time you'll get a response.”   Well I don’t have to take this. After today, I am going to find my wood fiber paper, my quill pen and then sit at my desk and write you Texters a letter. Yes! Then I will have my servant lick the envelopes and fetch my signet ring so I can place my wax seal on the envelopes. Then by motor driven carriage, I will carry my letters to the post office. Once there I will instruct the postal clerk to mail these things by the slowest method possible. Then, hopefully via a slow boat to China you will receive my letters in six months or so. Yet, I know what you Texters really want. You want to continually text me to death. So if that is the way it is, I will fight back. I must fight back.

Call to Arms!!!!!

Neanderthals of the world unite! Never again shall we be driven out! Our fight now is not against oppression and tyranny; we must fight for our very right to survive. We will not give up without a fight. We will not go silently into the night as before. We declare that today is our Independence Day! My fellow low brows meet me tonight at Pride Rock. We will shout and whack our spears together. Then we will go out and do what we do best. We will hunt the evil Texters down. All of them must pay. Then we will gather together in victory to celebrate –a washing of the spears and a smashing of the smart phones.