"The Two Tests That Most Men Fear"

Well, it's 2013 another day into the life.  This winter's flu season has been pretty bad nation wide.  I haven't been stricken yet, but so many people at work and neighbors have been catching it.  Even the governor of New York declared the state of New York a health emergency and pushed to have more people voluntarily take flu vaccines just a couple of weeks ago.

Yet in mentioning all that, I can honestly say that even in this state of health emergency there are still two health care tests that will clear a room full of men, faster than any influenza virus carrying sneeze.  Those two tests are...colon cancer and prostate cancer.  In fact, I'd say that men probably fear or dislike the tests for those two health issues way more than they are afraid of this 2013's winter flu epidemic.

We men probably FEAR taking the tests for these diseases greater than we fear actually contracting the disease itself.

I remember a time period in my 20's where a full health exam was needed to get a general idea of my overall physical health.  So in order to get me on the road and acclimated to prostrate exams my general physician recommended that I see a proctologist.  My father had passed from colon cancer when I was in college and my doctor felt that it would be helpful that I started getting used to such thorough exams.  So off to the proctologist I went.

Now I had no idea what an ass doctor "should look like", but as I entered the office expecting to see a man of average height, I instead walk into the office of the Jolly Green Giant.  At that time, I stood a solid 5'10, 195lbs, muscular and less than 10% body fat.  This doctor stood about a good 6'5 and had a rather wide framed body.  He looked like a bear.  He was all smiles as I entered.  He even reached out to shake my hand.  As it turned out his hand was far bigger than mine, and I can palm a basketball.

So while we were standing there having a nice casual conversation, I did observe the doctor starting to place a pair of latex gloves on, that were nearly the size of a small tent.  As he was doing this and we are talking - my subconscious mind (as well as my orifice) was telling me "I hope he doesn't think I'm going to allow him to do what I think he thinks he's getting ready to do?  No way he's sticking one of those soda can size digits up my caboose?  I only agreed to this visit for a preliminary conversation about future exams for prostrate and colon cancer.  No way I came here to get my backside re-sized by this giant sized Winnie The Pooh."

Onward we conversed and then he began to look for lubricant for his one gloved hand (a la Michael Jackson).  That's when I drew the line.  I stood up and said to him, "Um, Doc - no way.  I just came here for a cursory conversation and plan on keeping my pants belt secured around my waist."

He smiled and casually tried to convince me that this would be a routine and quick examination.  I indicated to him that I would wait a few more years before I started any "routine" prostate exams.  Out the door I went.  I then called my general physician and gave him an earful for sending me to Dr. Asser-stein, who could hold a basketball as if it were a peach.

I remember telling this story to my mother, sister and a mix of male and female friends.  Always the reception of the story was divided along gender lines.  The women had no sympathy towards me as they would explain that they've been going through such similar invasive exams since they were in their teens with their gynecologists.  So they did not share a single tear of sympathy.  Okay.  I get it.  Sorry ladies.  My apologies if I somehow seemed unsympathetic to your "routine" health exams.  I didn't take everything into account. 

In contrast, the reaction of my male friends was much more different.  The male friends I would tell this story to would just sit back and make  guttural sounds like:  "Ooooooh"  "Oh Nooooo" "Not me!"  Then they would laugh and make macho comments about how they would have slammed the door in Winnie the Pooh's face.  Yeah.  Right fellas.

Fast forward the clock about 10 years, I'm in my mid 30's and now some colon issues have emerged that calls for me to have a colonoscopy to erase any questions.  There was no way around it.  My new primary care physician was (and still is) a genius and referred me to a great protologist.  I went to this new specialist's office and we had a very normal, casual conversation.  He wasn't slapping on the gloves as soon as I entered his office.  And MOST importantly, he was a man of less than average height.  In fact, he kind of reminded me of Yoda from Star Wars or The Hobbit.  Nice guy, who mumbled mostly, but was very careful to show you a chart and explain everything in "mumblese".  I'm a fairly intelligent person who has been guilty of mumbling too, so I followed along pretty good.

Those of you who have had a colonoscopy already know what it's like as you near the date of the exam.  You change your diet a little.  You begin to eat more fibrous foods and drink more water to help clear your body.  Then like one or two days before, they have you take this medicine which is basically acts like Drano for the human body.  Anything inside your entire gastrointestinal tract, from your mouth to your anus that hasn't cleared out of your body - most certainly will clear out of your body once it comes into contact with this medication.  By the morning of the exam, I could drink a glass of water and literally feel it traverse my gastrointestinal tract in mere seconds.  You feel like one of those bubble gum machines where you turn the coin thingy and just watch the gumball slowly roll downward in a long circular motion until it reaches the exit door.

The day of the exam, I walked into the room, changed into a gown and hopped up on a normal looking bed.  The anesthesiologist came in, hooked me up and began talking about the New York Yankees.  Within minutes I was out.  I awakened towards the end of the exam and could see the video display of my colon, I looked down and saw my legs spread and my Dr. holding the periscope right up my hiney.  My behind was getting a tan from the Hollywood production lights he had shining up there.  I immediately decided it was a better idea to drift back to sleep until this big budget movie production of my colon was over with.

At the end of the day, all tests and biopsies proved negative results and back to the normal world I went.  As I advance in age closer to 50, I know that such exams will be necessary.  But thankfully I had a doctor with a less embarrassing and painless approach with me in my 30's than I did with the other Dr. in my 20's.  I can honestly say to all men reading this blog that I wrote this post to provide some humor and insight in hopes that you will not fear these tests to these particular two diseases which can affect us.  The earlier you catch these diseases, the cure rate goes up astronomically.  Within the last five years, I had an older, former co-worker, in his late 60's who waited too late to check himself for prostate cancer.  He had treatment, surgery and some temporary remission.  But it returned a short while later and he committed suicide rather than face all of that again.

"I Now Empower You to Slap That Fool!" (humor)

Don't you just love hearing a really a stupid question?  A question that makes you just want to shake your head, or slap someone up on the backside of their head for asking?  Here's a few real life stories that will empower those of us with better sense in our heads to just walk up and slap someone in the back of the head for asking you that stupid question in the first place?

1. I know of a personal story where a guy who stood about 6'3 stands on the second floor of a two story apartment and leans over the railing to act goofy towards a girl he likes who is walking up from the first floor towards him on the second floor.  The fool forgets that he suffers from extreme vertigo.  Upon his leaning over the railing to goof off at the girl, he immediately loses his balance and over the railing he goes...on top of the girl!  Yep, he made an impression on that girl alright.  Every time she sees that Frankenstein scar on the side of her forehead, she will definitely think of him. To me he asked "I guess I probably shouldn't have leaned over huh?"  Yeah, buddy.  <slap!>

2. Here's another one.  A young woman wearing about one to two rings, per all four fingers on both of her hands...decides to open up a packet of knives, placed in hard plastic casing, using, guess what - another knife.  Instead of slicing away from her hand which is holding the knives (or using a pair of scissors), she instead cuts towards her hand.  She manages to succeed in deep slashing all four fingers of her off hand, just belong her finger rings and needs immediate medical attention.  With all four fingers swelling up and losing color, she asks, "Do you think that they will have to cut my rings to treat my fingers?"
Yes, hun, they probably will. <slap!>

3. Even better, a guy is in his souped up SUV, with cheap bumper grills front and back - is blasting music while parked in a circular driveway.  After impressing his female friend and buddies with his sound system, he now wants to speed off in a blur of smoke, except for one thing, he has another car parked in front of him.  Hot Shot doesn't realize that he doesn't have enough clearance to pull out of the sidewalk without backing up first and slams into the car parked in front of him on an angle.  The car in front of him suffers very minor damage.  However, his car suffers a sideways bent front grill.  This cheap grill is bent so bad, that he can't drive straight or make left turns without causing severe friction of the grill on his front left tire.  I advise him that he should probably park it and just have it towed to a local shop.  He tells me that he is confident that he can get it home.  His last words to me before he aimed his travel towards the parkway was: "Do you think I can drive this home?"

Let's see...you can't drive left or straight without causing friction on your front tire...and you're driving 25 minutes to get back home?  <slap!>  Yep.  He didn't make it more than a quarter mile before his car started smoking.  <double slap!>

4. Customer Service phone calls.  Ohhh yeah.  The good ones are really, really nice.  Sometimes they are just too too nice!  They are always apologetic actually manage to find a way to help you with your problem.  For me it's usually a billing issue or error that I catch and they act shocked and disbelieving.  Meanwhile, it's happened in the past and I've caught it before and I'll catch it again, because I check.  So after resolving this sometimes repeated issue, they always have to ask at the end "So Sir, have I resolved all of your problems for today?"

Here's what I want to say to them, "Nope, I still have heat, electric, car payment bills as well as mortgage to get to.  Any chance you can help me there too?  Now please hang up before I add flatulence and indigestion to that list."  Anyway, you get the picture.  They didn't need to add the extra inquiry for assistance.  I was good at "we've reimbursed you, Sir".

What?  You think I was being too mean there?  <slap!>  Okay.  Maybe you're right.

Prejudice and Presidents (updated)

So my story "The Lesson" has been shared.  It's more of a fable styled story.  I wrote it to open the doors to some thoughts and discussions about prejudices of all types.  There's dozens of prejudices in our daily lives.  Prejudices about color, sex, race, religion, class and body type.  I know I have certain prejudices too.  I'm no Saint.  Do you ever stop to think about what your own prejudices are?  Those who know me have heard me make jokes about race, religion and even of the sexes.  But those who ever dealt with me know that I never ever have dealt with someone with a prejudice heart.  Growing up in a place like New York City (Manhattan) teaches you rather quickly to learn to deal with people based on their words and their actions.  Unfortunately, I have seen some fellow New Yorkers who have chosen not learn from those childhood lessons.  In any event, I learned as a young guy the word "brother" can transcend family DNA, race and ethnicity.

My kids chide me when they hear me make an ethnic joke.  I look at them and shake my head.  They would never make it though a season of TV shows from the 1970's like "The Jeffersons" or "All In The Family" or a movie like "Blazing Saddles".  They have no idea that without some informal social freedom to provide levity to our slightly different cultural, regional, ethnic norms - we might not have been able to break down many "barriers" the past 40 years.  Now I know that humor can be a double edged sword.  You can use it to either ease tensions between different people or you can use it to try to belittle someone different from you, by trying to make yourself look superior.  I choose the former.  I use my humor to build a bridge, start a dialog and make the spoken party laugh.  I am not particularly concerned about being politically correct.  Loving people, respecting their humanity as equals is not a fad to me.  It's just a way of life.  We can always joke about life.

This past Monday, as President Obama was sworn in for his second term, I kept reading snippets of news and commentary by Americans stating that we are more divided now than ever before.  I'd like to challenge everyone believing that notion to rethink that.  Where in the last 100 years was America a completely uniformed country?  There are hundreds of book titles that talk about the different Americas within America.  There's the North, South, East and West America.  There's the White America.  There's the Chinese, Black and Hispanic America.  There's the men vs women America and the wealthy and the poor America.  There's not one single decade the past 100 years in which Americans haven't had some form of division.  I can accept that other voices within America are rising and speaking out - using their political freedom and growing numbers that they haven't had in the past.  What's wrong with that?  This is a democracy, isn't it?  Who has been speaking for them before these two recent presidential elections?  Either way, the upside is that when our nation is challenged by outside forces - we have the time tested ability to galvanize our resources and unite like no other country in the world - regardless of our differences.  We should always appreciate that strength.

Given all of our different interests locally and regionally it's preposterous to think that on a national level we can all be one big happy family every day and on every single issue.  Anyone who can claim that we are always together on all issues, must also believe in the Tooth Fairy.  Just look at our past presidents.  There are people who have loved and hated Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush Sr, Clinton, Bush Jr. and now Obama.  Not any one of them were loved by 100% of the people, 100% of the time.  In different parts of the country and among different ethnic groups, each one of them represented something different to different people.  My mother only ever had the pictures of three presidents hanging in her house.  They were Kennedy, Carter and Obama (Nope not Clinton).  She also loved NYC Mayor Lindsay and later Mayoral candidate Bella Abzug (who lost to Koch).  She was only lukewarm with Mayors Koch and Dinkins, and never really warmed up to Giuliani.  "He's just too mean."

Yet today, we sit back in reverence of Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday and his role in our American history.  His birthday is a national holiday, but few remember the enormous fight it took to get it to become a national holiday during the 1980's (and it's still not recognized in all states).  What's even more ironic is that few of us today can even appreciate that during his own political lifetime ('50's - 70's), absent his assassination, he would have NEVER been voted as the President of the United States.  We need to take ownership of that reality.  I GUESS WE WERE DIVIDED THEN TOO?  Imagine that?  Generations of born Americans had to protest for their right to vote and have equal rights and were beaten, attacked by dogs, shot at and murdered for pretesting that right just 50 years ago?  Haven't we been sending troops to other countries the past 50 years to defend democracy?  Then whose democracy was it that we were defending in America back then?

During some of my formative years, I was socially educated by black men who participated in WW II, the Korean and Vietnam wars.  Yet all of those men came back home and faced overt and in some cases hidden "institutional" racism.  No matter how much they defended "our freedom" overseas, or how close they came to losing their lives as Americans, they returned home and couldn't drink from certain water fountains, eat at certain lunch counters, use certain bathrooms or ride buses up front.  Many of them were forced to move into neighborhoods where the infrastructure was already deteriorating around them, or even removed as soon as they arrived.  Go research the life work of Mr. Jacob Riis in New York City.  His photographs and writing accounts will astound you.  Here's another historical fact - people of African decent have fought and died in every war this country has been, starting with Cyprus Attucks  in the Boston Massacre - the "first American" to die in the fight for our nation's own freedom from British rule.  That goes all the way back from 1770 to our present day in the Gulf War, folks.  Who still wants to talk about division in America and proper past representation in the political playing field?

The truth is as much as Dr. King was loved in certain White and African American communities, he was also disliked in some of those same communities and regarded as a troublemaker.  The FBI had investigated him and wired tapped him for years.  In fact, the director of the FBI at the time, J. Edgar Hoover, had a smear campaign against Dr. King and other Civil Rights leaders for many years.  He called them among other names, Communists.  Just Google it folks.  Ironically, it is the legacy of Dr. King (and other Civil Rights leaders) achievements in the 1950's and '60's that have resonated over time to younger generations, that have allowed others in this country to be given the chance to engage in the political process and be given more of a chance to perhaps even become president.

But let me dial that back a minute.  If we want to talk "progressive" and most of us Americans think that we are more progressive than other countries...well let's chew on this for a minute.  Since the Declaration of Independence in 1776 (237 years ago) and of the 44 men who have served as the President of the United States...how come we Americans have never had a woman elected as President?  And in my lifetime only 2 women as serious vice-presidential candidates?  It's rather odd that nearly 50 other countries around the world have had women as leaders of their countries in the past 100 years, yet not America?  If we have no prejudices and are progressive as we proclaim - how come we've never have had a American woman seriously considered for the job?  I mean not even for one term?

Do we think American women just started reading and becoming intelligent enough to handle the job?  Do we think that American women haven't had the capacity to get involved in politics these past 237 years?  I completely reject either notion!  Sorry to say, but we have had some very brilliant women as Senators, Congresswomen, CEO's, Governors and Cabinet members the past 50 years alone - all of whom have been overlooked for the job.  For those who care to look back you'll see that Palin and Ferraro (both as vice-presidential candidates) were not even be the cream of this 50 year crop, yet we've never managed to get the best near the Oval office.  Thankfully we have managed to have a number of great First Ladies in the White House the past 100 years to balance things out.  However, it's still not quite the same.  Perhaps with the new election results this past November, which added additional highly intelligent and politically savvy women to Congress, we'll have more to choose from in 2016? 

Perhaps this idea of more inclusion in the political process is the one idea that we can all rally around?  Or is it?  Ehh...why worry?  Two months after she's elected, there will be people in America who oppose her - spewing some hateful words about Madam President anyway.  Just take a bipartisan glimpse of the list of vile criticisms attached to every female politician who has stuck her head up above the men within the two major political parties.  Most of the comments are nothing to smile or laugh at and are designed to intimidate (via discrediting) some of the very best women from even applying for the job.

Just imagine the names our first female president will be called if she philandered like Kennedy, cursed or went to the bathroom while being interviewed by the media like Johnson, lied like Nixon, tripped and fell like Ford, had family members like Carter or fell asleep at meetings like Reagan?  Oh I can hear the media uproar when Madam, President declares "I did not have sex with that man" like Clinton did, only to have the man (or woman) in question hold up their bikini undershorts with the president's DNA on it.  Come on ladies...step up to the plate and...let the games begin...

"The Lesson" part 4, conclusion by John S LES ©

"Prejudice is a burden that confuses the past, threatens the future and renders the present inaccessible."
Maya Angelou

"The Lesson" part 4, by John S LES


"Billy Ray...Billy Ray...Billy Ray."  Those were the only words he could say to himself.  No one is perfect in life, but clearly he could now see where he had taken so many small wrong turns which led him to be so lost in his former life.  That life of a working class, white male in a small town in Texas.  A town called Prosperous, that was ironically suffering from regional economic decline and a slowed down national economy.  Now his consciousness was stuck in the life and body of a man...a black man whom he had murdered.  This black man was a family man, a war hero, a man who loved life and loved all of his friends regardless of their color or religion.  Billy Ray realized that he didn't have that kind of capacity of love in his heart.  He hadn't spoken to his youngest brother, Tommy, in years because he married a black woman.  He hadn't spoken to his mother in years, because she divorced and ran from his father.  He was angry at all Mexicans when illegal workers would be brought in by his father's employers and costing his father lost work and money.  All of his anger, all of his hurt, always directed at the wrong people.

Billy Ray could now see that his view of the world was limited by his father's fears and ignorance about life and other people.  Fears over losing money, strangers and the ability to support his family.  A fear that was passed down onto Billy Ray and now onto his children, who didn't even know they had an interracial cousins living in Dallas.  Billy Ray wanted his kids to have a better life and he could see now that he had been limiting their lives all these years...just as his own father had limited the lives of him and his siblings.  The men who owned the oil company that hired the illegal workers that pushed his father out of a job happened to be white and wealthy.  Billy Ray could now see that greed, not color or race, was the culprit here.  Billy Ray could also see that his mother only left their father because she had grown tired of his hate and anger affecting their kids.  Moreover, Billy Ray now realized that his brother Tommy never came back to Prosperous - not because he was worried about how his wife and kids would be treated by people outside of his family - but rather his father and siblings within his family.  Billy Ray could not even show love and solidarity with his own flesh and blood.  Ego was the culprit here.

The black man who Billy Ray killed, Michael Ray, had teamed up with another war veteran to develop a system to provide more more jobs for Americans in the growing technology industry.  As long as the town had good electricity and strong phone lines, they could begin a unified workforce in areas that didn't necessarily have huge and expensive office buildings.  Small buildings, barns and empty factory buildings all could easily be converted into office space.  Workforce education was strictly based on the ability to read and write on a high school level.  Employment was based on desire to grow, availability to get to work on time and fair access for men, women, black or white to apply for the job.  There were checks and balances built into the hiring system to prevent unfair hiring practices.  His own two daughters would have as fair a chance at a job at this company just as good as their brother.

Billy Ray realized he never gave Michael Ray a chance to communicate that when Michael Ray drove into town.  All Billy Ray saw was a black man, and every negative image and thought he had of black people.  When he looked around and saw Hispanic people all he could think of were illegal workers.  When he saw his mother and brother's faces...all he could think of was anger and disappointment, which turned into tears.  The tears were born from fear...fear of strangers...fear of the unknown...fear of the loss of control in his own life.  Fear of losing the ability to care for his own family.  Now he realized that he could have actually created more money for his family by helping and promoting Michael Ray and his business into Prosperous.  He would have earned some great paychecks using his carpentry skills to rebuild and redesign old barns, lumber yards and warehouses into vibrant small office buildings.  Not to mention that his wife would be able to get steady employment using her typing skills that she had learned in high school. 

Billy Ray stood in front of a mirror crying.  He was a white man crying, looking into a mirror of the brown faced reflection.  The time and days around him were passing at an unbelievable swirling speed.  Not only could he feel his own personal pain, but he was now also feeling Michael Ray's pain.  The pain of supporting 5 kids, two of whom he had adopted, while struggling with post traumatic stress disorder issues.  Billy Ray could see that the struggle to survive and raise his family was no different than Michael Ray's.  There was no easy answer or easy way to do it.  But, it had to be done.  He could hear Michael Ray's voice in his head stating over and over and over..."We are all Americans."  With that came flashing images of Michael Ray firing his rifle at enemy combatants in Afghanistan and nearly being overwhelmed in a heavy firefight as they scream death to the Americans.

Suddenly Billy Ray began to feel the room around him spinning.  He could hear the voices of thousands of people spewing vile and hateful words at him as he looked in the mirror and could see his appearance changing in seconds.  He went from white to black, from Asian to African, from male to female, from short to tall, redhead and brunette, and even from overweight to very thin.  It didn't matter what he was, there were still dozens of voices surrounding him and cursing him for being whatever and whoever he was at the moment.

Billy Ray covered his face to prevent himself from seeing the changing reflections in the mirror.  As he dropped to his knees a sudden and great pressure came over his chest and he couldn't breath anymore.  He rolled onto his back and looked up.  There he was back in Prosperous, Texas, at the scene of the car accident.  Except this time, he was Michael Ray laying down on the ground and he was now looking up at his killer, his old self, Billy Ray.  He could feel the pain of Billy Ray pressing his knee down into his chest squeezing out his last breath of air.  He reached up, all he could think about was his five kids, and wondering who was going to help take care of them.  But all he could do with his last breath was exhale the word "Pleassse..."

It's June 2012 again.  Billy Ray wakes up and is back in his original bed and home.  He checks his clock.  It's 9am.  He runs into his kitchen and checks his calender to the surprise of his wife.  He is now back  where he was the morning before the Michael Ray drove into town.  He's already a little late for getting together with his buddies Tank and RJ that morning to look around for some work.  Moments later after a quick shower and dress he goes into town to meet up with his two buddies.  However, this time his tone about people and work is a lot different.  Immediately he starts talking about the up City Council meeting later that afternoon.  He spoke of it with more positive interest and possibilities that it could bring to the town, if it were successful for even just 50 to 60 local people.

His friends Tank and RJ also took notice that when they started to joke around about the illegal workers who took jobs from honest, unemployed Americans - Billy Ray was quick to point out that the workers shouldn't be blamed for taking menial, dangerous jobs because the oil company was looking for cutting costs.  He stressed to his buddies that the other side of that problem was that most folks didn't want to have an honest discussion on the cause of the problem in the first place.  Most of those day laborers were doing the jobs that no one wanted to do in the first place, and the oil company was saving themselves money by hiring a cheap, temporary labor force.  These were the expendables.

Billy Ray was sure to park his truck in the same spot awaiting Michael Ray's early drive into town, but there was no such sighting.  He then spent the afternoon talking to some of the city councilmen and people in the town and promoted the idea that a new business in the town would stimulate some building jobs and office jobs which would be beneficial for the whole town.  Hours before the City Council members were to hold their open discussion with the telecommunications representative from New York, Billy Ray had become a one man gang of spreading positive talk so that many people who were attending the meeting had a more positive and open mind.

When 2:30pm arrived, Monica Singleton walked into the school auditorium and was being graciously introduced as the audience was allowed in.  When Billy Ray walked in, he was surprised to see Monica Singleton.  He remembered her beautiful mahogany brown face.  A woman whom he had never met before in the present moment, but clearly had known and loved in another life.  The much more mellower crowd allowed Monica Singleton to give her presentation.  The City Council members listened a little more intently.  When the presentation was over and the audience allowed to ask questions as soon as someone tried to ask an antagonistic question, Billy Ray would yell a response that helped inform and calm down erroneous, rather than incite anger and tensions already swelling the crowd.  He was being such a peacemaker in the room, that his buddies Tank and RJ walked away from him in surprised disgust.  They couldn't tell what had come over their buddy.

When the whole meeting and question and answering was over and Monica Singleton started to make her way out of the building and into the hot Texas sun, she was greeted by all the City Council members who couldn't wait to strike a deal with her and her business partner David Shields.  Standing by himself, Billy Ray walked up to Monica, introduced himself, and thanked her for her company's decision to choose Prosperous, Texas as one of their regional model towns.

"Mr. Dawson, you did a really great job in there.  You helped me out a lot.  Thank you."

"Yeah, well I did a little research on yall.  Yall did a great job with this up in Virginia and North Carolina.  I figured why not Prosperous, Texas."

"Yeah, well you did a great job for me at the meeting keeping folks focused.  Since the Council has unanimously voted for us to start here in Prosperous, I'll be sure that you and your friends and family who apply will get hired right in for work.  We need as many folks who have open minds to come right in and get this thing going."

"Oh why thank you, Mrs. Singleton.  Next time you come back here, be sure to bring your family.  Yall can stay with my family overnight if you can't find a good hotel.  Your husband is a lucky man to have such a smart and strong woman."

Monica dropped her head briefly and then looked up and smiled, "Actually Mr. Dawson, my husband Michael died seven years ago alongside his childhood friend, in a heavy firefight in Afghanistan.  They were both US Army Rangers saving a Marine convoy which had came under attack.  This company was actually their idea and inspiration.  As a single mom, I've been doing everything I can to keep their dream alive."

Billy Ray was stunned, but kept his surprised emotions contained.  Monica thanked him again and then walked over to her car escort by the City Council members to head out of town.  As he walked back towards his truck he saw three familiar men standing off to the side of the building that his truck was parked at.  No one around seemed to notice the three men except for Billy Ray.  There they were standing and watching him...Michael Ray, Dylan O'Connor and the tall, black man who had identified himself only as God.  Billy Ray looked down for a second to start his truck, and when he looked back up, the three men were gone.

About a month later, over in Dallas, Texas, Thomas Lee Dawson received a knock on his door.  When he opened it, there standing at his front door was his brother Billy Ray and his wife and kids all holding gifts...

"Gun Control" by John S LES ©

"Gun Control" by John S LES

©

Pow, pow, power we all want gun power
If you want to be a big man,
no more hand to hand
just get a Sig Sauer!

Pow, pow, power -
People dying by the hour
All the funerals, all the flowers
for that pow pow power,

Everybody losing their minds and soul
Over this gun control

It's suppose to be a man to man discussion
We're not fighting the Russians?
It's time to find some solutions,
Not turn the argument into a gun revolution
This isn't about the government, or even the the Constitution,
It's about the body count on the streets -  so stop the confusion
No one wants to infringe your right
Since you're so ready to jump into a gun fight

Everybody losing their minds and soul
Over this gun control


It's all about these guns proliferating our nation,
And all the gun manufacturers on Hawaii vacations
Now we're trying to control the flow -
Fools causing just more complications
Don't hide the truth -
we're the most violent Western nation!
It takes the President, Congress and even the Senate,
to decide if my neighbor needs 200 rounds a minute?
We have three guns to every man, woman and child
Any wonder why we're shooting wild?

Everybody, everybody losing their minds and soul
Over this gun control

Those illegal guns, the makers say they can't control that?
Or really?  Is that a fact?
The lies they are spreading is purely insane
We couldn't get gas, after the Sandy hurricane!
I guess they know, they'll just lose some stock
So it's all a bunch of crock
If you want to stop the violence
Don't sit in silence
Take out the profit from the point of illegal sales,
Make them ALL go to jail - with no bail
Because all of those street criminals and loners aren't the only crooks
They don't oversee the manufacturing books
Nobody want to take away your toys
Just keep the surplus from killing our girls and boys

Everybody, everybody losing their minds and soul
Over this gun control

But they say the best way to stop it
is to buy more guns
So wait, who's getting that profit?
This math ain't no fun
The man with the gold makes the rules,
If you don't ask the right questions, you're just being a fool
Armor piercing rounds to go through a car door?
Sure you don't need more?
What kind of bird you hunting for?
It's our 2nd Amendment to protect our home?
Yeah, right - we're getting killed mostly by our own
Home grown terrorists at work and ours schools
You don't see that?  Now who's the real fool?
Just search the Google tool

Everybody, everybody losing their minds and soul
Over this damn gun control

"The Lesson" part 3 by John S LES ©

"Fleecy locks and black complextion
Cannot forfeit Nature's claim,
Skins may differ, but affection
dwells in black and white the same...
Deem our nation brutes no longer,
Till some reason ye shall find,
Worthier of regard and stronger
Than the color of our kind."
                                            William Cowper

"The Lesson" by John S LES

©

Sleep normally brings us to a peaceful and restful state.  But that was no longer the case for Billy Ray.  Every night that he laid down in Michael Rays body, he could not rest living in this painful dual consciousness.  One summer night he tried to wake himself up and be back in his own body, but nothing happened.  Every time he woke up from his sweat drenched sleep, there he was, still a 16 year old, black teenager, growing up in a tough life in Queens, New York.  His family and friends were mostly black and Hispanic.  His best friend was a white teen, Dylan O'Connor.  No matter how hard Billy Ray tried to resist this experience, all he could do was sit there inside this body and experience Michael Ray's life.

As Billy Ray drifted back into a sleep, he tried to remember his own life, his original life, before he received this punishment.  He already knew how Michael Ray's life was going to end...at his own hands...yet he was trying to force himself to remember his own life.  Growing up one of four boys and a single girl to two poor parents in Prosperous, Texas.  His father went from a farmer, to an oil rigger  and then later before he died he was a car mechanic.  The family struggled year to year.  The best times were when his father worked at the oil rig 25 miles away, but he would be gone for weeks at a time.  When the company had tough times, they would hire illegal Hispanic day laborers to work the most dangerous jobs and cut back the hours of the regular workers.

His father never liked any black person that he met  He preached to his children that they were a lesser human being on this earth.  He didn't see any need for black people other than doing menial work and always taking advantage of the hard work of good white citizens.  As for the black residents of Prosperous who were educated and had decent office jobs, Billy Ray's father felt that those particular black people had stolen a good job from a more deserving white resident.

But all that changed when Billy's mother, sick of listening to their father's prejudice and hate, demanded a divorce.  Billy's two older brothers were both in their early 20's and mostly on their own as it was, simply moved out.  Only he, his sister and youngest brother, Thomas remained.  They chose to live with their father.  Their mother and her new boyfriend left Prosperous and headed to Louisiana.  Billy Ray never went to visit her.  Only his sister and one of his older brothers ever visited her.

When his youngest brother Tommy turned 20, he moved to Houston, Texas and married a black woman .  Billy Ray never spoke to him again after that.  Just wasn't any need to.  Tommy had gone against everything their father stood for when he did that.  He might as well have moved to the moon as far as all the other siblings and their father were concerned.  He and his wife gave birth to fraternal twins boy and girl.  Not one of Tommy's siblings ever even visited or acknowledge their now 8 year old niece and nephew.

Billy reflected on that.  He had an eight year old, niece and nephew, that he didn't even as much know their names.  Nor did his own three kids know their cousins.  He realized how he had also failed to visit his own mother after all these years.  All he could feel was the pain of guilt cutting through his heart.  Those kids are just babies and his mother never stopped loving him.  Both he himself, as well as his niece and nephew all babies in this world struggling to survive in this world with their mother and father.  Just like he was doing with his own kids and wife.

This was the first moment Billy Ray realized the additional pain he felt from keeping himself from seeing his baby brother and own mother.  A pain that added to the fuel of his anger and hatred at others.  All because...of nothing.  Billy Ray's father had successfully passed his insecurities and hatred onto most of his own children.  Tommy's decision to marry a black woman, had caused no harm to Billy Ray or anyone in the family.  It was Billy's own decision to not speak to his brother which had hurt himself.  And here he was in Michael Ray's body...worlds away from Texas and his family. 

The next day Billy awoke and there he was as Michael Ray graduating high school, with no exact idea on what to do next.  That was until he heard his friend Dylan enlisting in the military, trying to become a US Ranger.  Michael Ray felt he was every bit cut out to join the military as was his best friend Dylan, and so the two of them went in together.  They both succeeded in becoming US Army Rangers.  Ironically, while they were Army Ranger training down in Fort Benning, Georgia, they were known as the two City Boys.  Michael's sister, Deborah went to Queens College, then NYU for her MBA and got a job in One World Trade.  She had one daughter with her fiance, a man she was long engaged to, but they broke off the relationship.

Michael Ray met his wife, the former Monica Allen, down in Georgia.  Dylan met his wife, the former Christie Mitchell, while vacationing in Miami, Florida.  Michael Ray moved to Virginia, so that they could easily maintain their careers and still be available for Special Operations missions.  Over time, whether it was a training mission in rural areas of the United States, or other parts of the world, Michael begins to see the multitudes of hard people whose lives got caught up in the fallout of the political war for power, money and resources.

These experiences began to develop Michael and Dylan's natural affinity towards ordinary people, who lived in rural or remote places struggling to survive.  For Michael, they reminded him of his family roots back in Arlington, TX.  For Dylan, people like that reminded him of his rural, working community in upstate, New York.  Although both men were always ready to perform their military missions, both of them often spoke of doing something more for those ordinary people, once their military careers were over.  In the late 1990's due to terrorist threats, their training missions went into full swing, as did their careers.

Then September 11, 2001 came.  Michael's sister, Deborah was in One World Trade Center when the planes hit.  For the next several years, Michael and Dylan's unit were given several tours in Afghanistan.  Through Michael's eyes, Billy Ray relived the pain and anguish of losing his sister.  Of adopting her son, to live with his own three children down in Virginia, yet being away on dangerous missions and long enough in harm's way to open the possibility of losing yet another parent.  Even Dylan pushed him to get out on their last deployment together.  Three years of seeing mostly impoverished people, twisted and swayed to hate.  Ruled by fear, deception, money, power and religious ideologies.  How many more men had to be killed before Michael's heart had reached some measure of fulfillment for vengeance disguised as patriotic duty to protect?

In 2004, at age 29 Michael was brought back to the states to help with Ranger training down in Georgia.  However, Dylan hopped back on another deployment in early 2005.  He told Michael and his wife, Christie that this would be his fourth and last deployment.  His words proved to be prophetic as his unit had engaged a heavy firefight after an ambush of a Marine platoon.  Dylan was struck in the neck by a bullet ricochet and killed instantly.  His wife, Christie would eventually be diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer just two years later.  By the end of 2007, and as stated in both their wills, Michael adopted the O'Connor's daughter bringing his family total now to 5.  In 2009, Michael was allowed an early discharge from the military services as his family needs began to expand and money was getting very tight.

But, by that time the economic woes from 2007 and 2008 had already hit the nation.  Billy Ray could see that rather than quiting and blaming his country, Michael Ray was standing up and fighting to save his family from suffering.  He was fighting with the same spirited vigor that he had shown when he was years younger on the streets of Queens, N.Y., the basketball courts and the battlefields in Afghanistan.  Rather than sitting back and being a victim, Michael Ray went on a quest to take on a war...a war in which the everyday, working Americans could win, rather than getting squashed by the pressures of a nation wide economic downturn.  Through all of his energy and enthusiasm to help people find ways to make work, it wasn't until he met another war veteran, David Shields in 2009.  Shields was himself a retired Marine, crippled from the waist down, who owned a small, start up business.  The two men would combine their skills and help Michael take his self-empowering ideas to entrepreneurial level that could help thousands, if not millions across the nation.

Billy Ray's living nightmare was rocketing closer, and closer to the end.  His heart and head were heavy with pain.  He wanted it all to stop.  He wanted to go back and change the way he thought about people and about things in life.  But he couldn't stop it.  This whole experience was like a runaway train for him...and there was no getting off...

Fear

Success or failure are inevitable moments that constantly occur in life.  It is our duty to remember and learn from both. Fear is a choice.  There are challenges and risks around us everyday. We cannot allow ourselves to be controlled by our fears - rather we must control our fears. Everyday we must choose to react bravely and without hesitation to these challenges and risks, knowing that each one will simply make us stronger in the long run when we seize them.

"The Lesson" Part 2 by John S LES ©

Webster's dictionary defines the word PREJUDICE:
1. injury or damage resulting from some judgment or action of another in disregard of one's rights;
2. preconceived judgement or opinion; an adverse opinion or leaning formed without just grounds or before sufficient knowledge.


"The Lesson" part 2 by John S LES 

©

That night when Billy Ray went to bed that night with a slight chills to his body in spite of the fact that he was sweating.  His wife Carla thought that his uneasiness and chills was due to witnessing the accident scene or that he was coming down with a flu.  Either way he grabbed a blanket and took to sleeping on the sofa to avoid the possibility of getting her sick.

6:15am the next morning...as the early summer sunlight beamed through his windows Billy Ray awakened still feeling a little groggy from the hard sleep he had went through during the night.  He got up rubbing the crust out of his eyes and walked to where he thought his bathroom was at his ranch style home.  But somehow he misjudged it's location and walks into a closet doorway, which feels a little taller to him than normal.

He shakes it off and finally makes his way into the bathroom door.  It appears to have changed.  The fittings seem older and more traditional similar to a style he remembered when he was a little boy at his parents house.  As he approached the sink, he could see that his hands and arms were smaller...and a deep chocolate brown.  Billy Ray began to panic as he looked down at his bare feet and they too were brown. 

Realizing that the mirror over the sink was too high for him to just look over, he stepped up onto the toilet lid and looked into the mirror at his face.  It too was a rich chocolate brown.  The face of a handsome, young black boy stricken with fear of his own reflection.  He recognized his new face as being the boyhood face to Michael Ray Singleton, the man who's death he had caused the night before.

It wasn't long before Michael Ray's parents, Douglas and Evangeline, also awakened and found him in the bathroom staring at himself as if he had gone a little crazy.  Clearly they were his black parents and he was now a black child.  No matter what his mind was telling him to say of this horror, the words wouldn't come out.  He could only listen as some greater forced controlled him.  A force which caused him to run to and hug his parents.  A force which allowed him to feel the absolute love that he had for his parents.

After they left, Billy Ray kept struggling to tell himself that he was still in his home laying in bed sick, and that this was only a bad dream.  But nothing he did could or would wake him into another level of consciousness.  This experience, was real.  He could see and feel everything that Michael Ray was experiencing.  Billy was living inside his body.  All he could do was just sit back and observe what Michael Ray was experiencing.

Then as Billy Ray laid back down several years and many life learning lessons that Michael Ray experienced growing up as his parents, older brother and sister, endured when they moved from Arlington, Texas to Springfield, Queens, New York in the late 1970's.  He was only 5 years old.  With each mind spinning and painful memory, Billy could feel how Michael Ray and his siblings were teased and ostracized by the mixed but predominantly black and Hispanic neighborhood for their "country" accents.

In addition, there were attempts made to break up the defacto segregation in the area via zone changes and busing students from the nearby Andrew, Jackson high school 30 minutes further north to Francis Lewis high school.  These early attempts lead to small riots and Michael Ray's brother's middle school bus getting hit with stones and the windows being shattered.  Billy feels the fear, the sadness and despair that Michael Ray's 5 year old eyes and mind felt as he witnessed this.  Then he see how the neighborhood began to change in the early very early 1980's...a change for the worse.

Small business owners and many working class people, white, black and Hispanic began moving out of the neighborhood, leaving a vacuum for people remaining there to watch the area deteriorate and become home to a more criminal minded element.  Michael Ray's father struggled with work.  He originally moved north to get involved with his jazz music talents, but new genres of music was emerging and his parents had to find other jobs.  His mother took a job with the Post Office and his father took a job with the Long Island Railroad as a conductor.  Meanwhile his older brother, searching for an identity tougher and separate from the family's "hillbilly" reputation.  Billy Ray could feel the pain in Michael's heart when his older brother Robert was first arrested for possession of drugs, with intent to sell at 15 years of age.  It tore apart his father and mother.  To make matters even worse, his father lost his job at the LIRR as they experienced cutbacks.  Last hired, first fired.  Now he too had to struggle with odd end jobs, to help his family survive.

As Michael entered the 7th grade, it was here that he would meet and befriend his lifetime best friend, Dylan O'Conner.  Michael's relationship with his brother Robert was nearly completely severed due to Robert's going in and out of jail over the years.  Although he had made many friends along the way on his own, it was his friendship with Dylan that would prove to be very influential.  Dylan's family came from a poor, mostly white town in upstate New York.  Dylan's father was an alcoholic who worked the trucking industry.  When he was home, he was usually drunk.  When he was working he would be gone weeks at a time.  Dylan's mother got a job at the post office with Michael's mother.  The two mother's became close friends, just like their two sons.

As the two boys were in the 9th grade, their friendship was tested when four black teens tried to jump Dylan outside the high school just because he was white.  Michael and Dylan fought their way to safety.  A year later in high school, both of them made the basketball, team and when they were 16, they took a bus trip to purchase a Sony Walkman that was on sale at a electronics store in Fresh Meadows.  They were confronted by a group of about 5 white teens, who wanted to attack Michael because he was black.  Dylan broke his hand defending Michael and couldn't play the rest of the season.

Billy Ray could feel all of this going through his mind, body and soul.  It was if he was on a train going to an unknown destination, yet he knew what the final destination of that train would be.  He remembered looking right into Michael Ray's eyes as he compressed the last breaths out of him.  He wanted this painful ride to be over.  But it was only just beginning.  It was only just beginning...

"The Lesson" Part 1 by John S LES ©

So some of you have been waiting around huh?  Been wondering what the heck he was doing these past few weeks?  I've been absorbing new information for my writings, as well as setting up more things for this new year.  You folks have kept me motivated as I have been observing my page view numbers increase every week while I've been away.  At my last writing entry here a few weeks back, I had about 4,700 page views.  Now I have over 5,300.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.  That interest keeps the fire burning inside me.

This next year's work is devoted to all of you who continue to read on. Now, without any further delay...I present my fictional story...THE LESSON...

"The Lesson" by John S LES

©

We all have and give opinions about the lives of others around us.  Often times we base those opinions on our own life experiences both good and bad, positive or negative...right or wrong.  We cannot ever say, with absolute authority which direction a man or woman's life should go based on the circumstances of their lives and the composition of their emotional and psychological makeup.  We can only advise, guide or speculate.  But we can't expect them to do what we would have done in that same situation.

Whatever their emotional and psychological makeup is, it will be different (in small degrees or wide margins) from our own.  We all have "prejudices" that we learn ourselves or are taught to us over time.  Sometimes those things are learned for good reasons, and sometimes for bad reasons.  At the end of the day, we should not judge people unless we ready to honestly examine our own lives first.  We cannot ever truly judge a person, for better or worse, for right or wrong...unless we truly walk in that person's shoes.  There is nothing more truly humane, than to have compassion for others.  To do anything less...is a slippery slope to becoming evil and tunnel visioned, no matter how noble, liberal or conservative our point of view.  It this the selfish point of view - the "my way or the highway" inside all of us...that can be our own undoing to everything and everyone around us.

June 2012.  The city, Jasper, Texas.  It is a city located on the deep, east end of the state of Texas.  Jasper has been home to some racially divisive incidents.  Back in 1998, three young, local white men, picked up a local black man, James Byrd, took him out to a drinking spot, assaulted him, then chained him to the back of their pick up truck and dragged his body for nearly 3 miles.  The trail of blood, skin and body parts stretched the entire distance, from a dirt road to a paved road before finally coming to a stop.  The first officer to find the body, was then state trooper, a black man by the name of Rodney Pearson.  Fourteen years later, Mr. Pearson was recently voted in as the Chief of Police by a Jasper City Council that was predominantly black.  A year later, those black council members were voted out and now a predominantly white City Council has voted Chief Pearson to be fired and another man, namely a white male, has been given the job.  The current council members argue that the man they've hired was more deserving, had a better resume.  They were only correcting something that had gone wrong with the decision to hire Mr. Pearson in the first place.

I reckon those folks over there in Jasper should follow this story.  A story about a guy I know by the name of Billy Ray Dawson who lives in a small, part rural, part suburban town just like Jasper.  A town I'd like to call, Prosperous, Texas.  Prosperous is just like tens of thousands of other small towns across the country and even the world.  Much like Jasper, it is racially divided 40 percent white, 40 percent black and 20 percent of just about everybody else.  Billy Ray, is a scruffy looking while male in his late 20's, who's better known for his ten year old, but well maintained blue Chevy pick up truck, blue jeans, flannel shirt and Confederate flag painted on the rear end of his truck.

Years ago most people in Prosperous, Texas made their living through farming.  Then the oil boom came up in the 1950's about 20 miles north of Prosperous.  Once that oil boom passed, Prosperous had become mostly a town where people passed through, or retired to in order to have a more slower paced life.  Most of the folks of Prosperous continue to find jobs in the neighboring towns such as cooks, carpenters, mechanics and yes...still some farming.  However, with hard economic times hitting America and this particular region of the country, jobs haven't been as plentiful as they were in the past.  For two years, Billy Ray Dawson and several of his friends have struggled with taking odd end jobs to make ends meet.  One day they could be away help building a house, the next day they could be painting barns, another day they could be driving trucks with supplies 2 or 3 towns over.

Unfortunately for Billy Ray, and his friends, in places where the jobs were scarce, there were many legal Mexican Americans and African Americans who were willing to take some of those jobs at cheaper rates, just to make ends meet for themselves.  Even worse, there were many times when illegal immigrants were brought in to take other jobs in the surrounding towns.  They took less pay and had zero benefits.  Should they get hurt or worse, there would be a dozen other illegal men ready to take their place. 

Such was the laws of economics and workforce in this area of the world.  Everyone was looking to make a buck or save a buck or both.  Those who get crushed in between the clash of companies finding ways to continue making profits legally or illegally, morally or immorally doesn't really matter.  It never does.  Even more, it didn't help that Prosperous had been a involuntarily segregated town in most parts.  Heck, just like in Jasper, even the town's central cemetery was segregated.  At Duncan's Cemetery most of the whites were buried up the hill of the land side and all of blacks were buried at the bottom of the hillside.  This practice started way back when Prosperous had a small slave population and has continued ever since.  Ask anyone there and they'll tell you that it's just the way things are done. 

This particular day in June, Billy Ray was in between jobs, standing with his buddies Tank and RJ, when they observed a well dressed black man drive into town talking about some crazy talk about creating jobs by bringing in some job involving computers and involving the government.  The part about computers didn't really appeal to too many people in Prosperous.  Then the second part about this stranger talking about getting government jobs in the area was even less appealing.  When some folks noticed the "Obama Biden 2012" bumper sticker on his car, and the fact that he was clearly a well educated sounding black man, made his reception that much worse.

But this man was no ordinary man.  This man, Michael Raymond Singleton, was a Gulf War veteran, turned entrepreneur   Although Michael Ray grew up in New York City, both of his parents were originally from a small town just outside of Dallas, Texas.  Singleton had distant relatives two hours east of Prosperous.  He and his co-company creator David Shields wanted to bring some technology related jobs to Prosperous and other small towns just like it.  Jobs that would eventually fetch contracts with private companies as well as government agencies.  The real estate was cheap in Prosperous   By incorporating a new industry, along with information from past industries, Singleton and Shields figured that their crusade to build a new work force and industry might appeal to the younger populations in these small towns.

These type of job opportunities would be people and native intensive.  The computer training part would require a small curve for learning how to enter data information.  It was really the actual people interacting with other people that would be the door to open more doors.  More jobs, more money floating in the town, more shops, stores and business that could start flowing again.  Some of the nearby towns also had larger populations, stronger economies, and had great potential for attracting commerce.

Not knowing his way around town, Michael Ray spent much of his day driving around Prosperous and getting a feel for the town.  He was to meet with City Council officials later that day and present his company's proposal to city officials, including the mayor, Press Johnson to see if they would approve of Michael Ray's company establishing a business presence in Prosperous.  As he drove around Michael Ray's reception amongst white inhabitants of Prosperous went from lukewarm to dismissive.  His presence represented an unwanted change.  As he ventured onto the outskirts of Prosperous where the residents were predominately black, he was treated with equal lukewarm to a disbelieving audience that any changes could come to Prosperous.  He was also warned by many to get out of downtown Prosperous as soon as his 3pm meeting with City Council members was over.

"Prosperous is a well known Sundown Town around here, Mr. Singleton.  'Sundown Town' as in don't let the sun set and you be caught driving around the White section of Prosperous.  There's no telling what might happen to ya.  You might get a ticket, or you might just get run out of here by locals.  Worse yet, if the good old boys around here don't get ya, the deer might.  This town is right in the Pineywoods Wildlife district.  You have to watch where you drive through on the roads with these deer at night, otherwise you could wind up in some crazy accident.  So you best get back on the road as early as possible and keep heading west until you get to Dallas."

When 2:30pm arrived, a confident Michael Ray made his way into the school auditorium where his presentation was to take place.  Everything started on time at 3pm and Michael Ray presented a hopeful and inspiring presentation to bring some jobs and light commerce into Prosperous without turning it into a full fledged commercial district.  But, by the time the floor was opened for questions by the mixed audience of locals who attended, he was immediately assailed by White members for being a political Obama plant, a left winged liberal looking to hire only Blacks and illegal aliens for jobs.  Black audience members then assailed him for proposing jobs that appealed only to educated, Whites who lived closer to downtown and already had better odds of obtaining office jobs in the downtown area. 

It wasn't long before all of the racially divisive tensions that bubbled underneath the surface of the town eventually boiled over into the questioning and answering.  The City Council members and Mayor were embarrassed by the obvious release and venting of anger, ignorance and pent up racial tensions that now buzzed in the auditorium.  Billy Ray, Tank and RJ were in attendance and did all they could to help increase the tensions in the room by yelling out anti-government, anti-Obama and anti-outsiders epithets.  The City Council, although open and sympathetic to a discussion about new business ventures in Prosperous, had to order the rest of the presentation to be over.  Sheriff's deputies were called in to help empty out the auditorium as a stunned Michael Ray looked on.

"My parents grew up in a town not too much unlike Prosperous.  It took the building of a General Motors plant in Arlington to help bring the town together and make people realize that in economic times like these, we are all in this together."

It was then agreed by all that the Council would meet up with several smaller groups over the next couple of days to propose the ideas of this new business and for Michael Ray to return a week from that day for another presentation.  By the time it was all concluded it was past 6pm and Michael Ray opted to have dinner at a rib shack that was just about neutral grounds a little further east.  He would then get on the road and head northwest and take a four hour drive to Dallas.

Outside, Billy Ray and his buddies mocked Michael Ray as he shook hands with city officials and prepared to go to dinner.  Michael took the opportunity of the moment to walk up to the group, while the city officials stood nearby and challenged them.

"Gentlemen, I never asked for anyone here to like me.  I never tried to impose any of my personal beliefs upon anyone while I've been here.  All I came here to do was to help.  To help the people, the citizens of Prosperous, Texas find a new way to have an economy as the world around us is changing.  Helping the people here, will help many others in this area.  The only color I see and care about is the color of money, the rainbow colors of opportunity for all the kids in this city and the blessings of the Almighty God to heal the broken hearts and dreams in this area."

"We don't want no government jobs down here!" Billy Ray snapped back.

"These aren't government jobs.  This is private enterprise, with the potential to earn government or private contracts.  The people here in Prosperous can get guaranteed money flow in either direction."

Michael Ray gave a polite goodbye and then took off east to the rib shack.

About an hour later after finishing his meal Michael Ray got back on the road.  However, with his GPS system not picking up a good signal he decided to head into town to back track where to pick up the road to the junction to pick up US 175 west.  It was this trip back into town that would begin a process to forever change the lives of Billy Ray and Michael Ray.

Upon entering the main street, Michael Ray did observe Billy Ray in his truck and by himself.  He pulled up and politely asked for directions to get to the junction.  Annoyed that Michael Ray had the audacity to still be near downtown Prosperous, and it was just about sundown, Billy Ray knowingly gave him directions that would place him right into the roadways most notorious for car accidents due to deer wandering across at night time.  It was information that only most locals knew about since the warning signs had been ripped down and never replaced.  After giving him the directions, Billy Ray decided to give Michael an eight minute head start to see if he indeed would get into a car accident.

After eight minutes passed, Billy Ray got on the road and followed the directions that he had given Michael Ray.  When he reached the halfway mark, he did come across the body of a large deer that had been struck and Michael's turned over car.  Just as he had predicted, Michael Ray had been too busy following the twisting road directions and was never going to be ready to slow down in order to avoid the deer.  After the deer struck the windshield, he swerved, hit the embankment, causing the car to ride up and flip onto it's hood. 

As Billy Ray slowly pulled up to the car, he could see the badly injured Michael Ray attempting to crawl out from under his smoking car.  Billy Ray slowly got out of his pickup, but did not move any quicker to provide any help to Michael Ray.  With his face bloodied from the shattered windshield, his head contused and bleeding, Michael Ray saw Billy Ray approach him and reached out his hand for help.  Billy Ray only came over snickering and shaking his head.  Billy Ray then knelled down, sticking his knee down into Michael Ray's chest, compressing and restricting it from the already difficulty he had breathing.

As Billy pressed his knee further into Michael Ray's chest he said to him, "Sometimes a man just needs to know his place.  Needs to know where he does and doesn't belong and you niggers just don't belong here."

Gasping his last breaths, Michael Ray attempted to move Billy's knee off his chest.  With his last breath he managed to utter one last word before seeing Billy's face and a flash of light, "Whyyy..." and then darkness.

Still snickering, Billy Ray responded "Because I just don't like niggers.  Never have and never will."

Even in the warm Texas summer night, Billy Ray felt a sudden chill come over his body.  He immediately looked around to see if any approaching or passing cars had come to witness his dirty deed, but there wasn't.  He looked around again and again.  He couldn't escape the feeling that someone was indeed watching even though there wasn't a car in sight.  As he walked back over to his truck he looked back at where the body of the deer was and saw a tall older, black man dressed in a short brown leather coat, cowboy hat, blue jeans and cowboy boots standing in the distance.

Slightly worried that he might have been caught Billy Ray yells over to him, "Hey there boy, you got a a cell phone or something?  The battery on mine just ran out.  We gotta call somebody quick to get this nig - this man some help before he dies.  I tried to give him some CPR, but I don't think he's gonna make it."

"Sure.  Sure you did."

"What do you mean?  I tried to help him?"

"Sure thing."

"Well boy, do you have a phone or not?"

"Nope.  Don't need one.  When I need to make a call...people hear me."

"Oh what the fuck are you, some kind of angel?  Angel of Death?  Have you got a phone or not boy?"

"Nope.  I'm God."

Just then another motorist approaching from the opposite direction slows down as they approach the accident.  A man runs out of the car with his cell phone in hand and calls the local Sheriff.

Billy Ray looks back at the mysterious man, "Come on boy, come give us a hand, we got some help here."

"I am going to help you, Mr. Billy Ray Dawson.  I'm going to teach you a lesson about...humanity..."


Billy Ray waves his hand at the man and then he and the other motorist move in to pull Michael Ray's body from underneath the turned over car.  A Sheriff Deputy also arrives within minutes along with several other motorist.  Within minutes the Deputy begins asking Billy Ray if he saw what happened and if there was any other witnesses, but when Billy Ray turns to look back, the man is gone.

Many hours later, after a tow truck is brought in to remove Michael Ray's car.  His body placed in an ambulance, and was officially declared dead on arrival at the hospital.  The body of the deer was placed in a police pickup truck for proper disposal in the morning.  The mysterious black man walked by the parked police truck and touched the badly mangled deer.

His body twitched, stirred and came alive.  The ropes holding him fell off.  He stood to his feet and off into the woods behind the police station he galloped away...