Runaway

DRAFTRunaway
Jonathan Dunnemann
Published by FastPencil

DRAFTCopyright © 2013 Jonathan Dunnemann
Published by FastPencil
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Suite 210
Campbell CA 95008 USA
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The author wishes to point out, that he is not a trained pastor, psychologist or an educator. What has been
provided here is general knowledge and understanding gained through the writer’s personal life experience
and independent research. Therefore, any effort on the part of the reader to follow or apply the ideas or
practices expressed in this book are understood to be taken at the reader’s risk without judgment or preju-
dice against the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or
by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of
the publisher.
The Publisher makes no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the
contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a
particular purpose. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any commercial
damages.
Printed in the United States of America.
First Edition

DRAFTThis book is dedicated Sal LeDonne the fastest kid in Caldwell,
NJ in 1969, and my longtime and dear friend who provided me
with the inspiration to go ahead and tell my life story.
❧

DRAFT
Acknowledgments
The following people have played an important role in my
life some knowingly others possibly not knowing until
now: Susan Abend, Ralph Alterbaum, Julie Smithers-Best,
Marshal Best (M2), Gina Biegel, Gary Boelhower, Daniel
Butler, Jessie Butler, Mark T. Cannon, John L. Calloway
III, John Connor, Andre’ Deshong, Daniel E. Smithers-
Dunnemann, Jeffrey Dunnemann, Jonathan W. Smithers-
Dunnemann, Michele Dunnemann, Wilda I. Smithers-
Dunnemann, MD, Marilyn Ericksen, Jody Fry, Edward
Garlette, James Garlette, Janet Garlette, John Garlette, Bill
Garlette, Elisabeth and William Greene, Jeff Hasani,
Edward Hernandez, Brian Hill, William Anthony Hill,
Alison Godfrey, Ivy Smithers-Holsey, Jessica Holsey, Ron
Holsey, Michael Holsey, Leonard Hooper, Sharon Y.
Jackson, Karen Johnson, Phyllis Johnson, Antar Keith,
Tarik Keith, Bill Keith, Laila Keith, Thomas H. King, Jr,
Robert Landes, Ronald Lawson, Oscar Menendez, Caro-
line McMenamin, Judi Neal, Lester J. Owens, Parker J.
Palmer, Valerie Plaza, Gerald Porter, Ph.D., Gregory
Reeves, Connie Robinson, Michael J. Sclafani, Dane Reese,

DRAFT
Sheila Robinson, Velma R. Robinson, Shauna Shapiro,
Nadine Schulze, Joe Sillay, Eva and Bill Smithers, Joe
Suozzo, Ken Trimmer, Dr Mike Munro Turner, Rick
Udine, Ruth and Norm Walker, Dan Waller, Vivian War-
field, Robert Wright, and Nancy Hansen-Zuschlag.
There is no way humanly possible for me to adequately
show each of these individuals how very grateful I am that
they have been an influencing factor in my life other than
by trying to live fully, laugh often, and by continuing to
love them and express empathy toward all others that I am
blessed to encounter in this world each and every day of
my blessed life.
vi Acknowledgments

DRAFT
Contents
Preface ix
CHAPTER 1: Facing Your Demons 1
CHAPTER 2: Overactive and Underachieving 4
CHAPTER 3: A Turning Point 9
CHAPTER 4: Born in Montclair but forever a Caldwell ‘Chief’ 19
CHAPTER 5: Unconscious and Black 27
CHAPTER 6: Stepping Out of the Comfort Zone 31
CHAPTER 7: Going Global in the Summer of 1970 35
CHAPTER 8: Welcome to Clifford J. Scott High School 38
CHAPTER 9: Becoming Too Big for Your Own Britches 43
CHAPTER 10: Targeted Stabbing 54
CHAPTER 11: Senior Year A Breeze 58
CHAPTER 12: Awakening 60
CHAPTER 13: Graduate School or Work? 63
CHAPTER 14: Taking a Leap of Faith 66
CHAPTER 15: A Dream Deferred 69

DRAFT
CHAPTER 16: Learn to Help Yourself 72
CHAPTER 17: Seeking Good Council 80
CHAPTER 18: To Be or Not To Be 86
CHAPTER 19: What Matters Most 88
CHAPTER 20: Perfection or Happiness? 94
CHAPTER 21: You Have Everything You Need 96
CHAPTER 22: The Purpose Evolution 101
CHAPTER 23: As For Me And My Calling 105
viii Contents

DRAFT
Preface
If you’re not careful, you can end up spending nearly all of
your life running away from just about anything and
everything rather than being still long enough to take a
really good look around at where you are and then discov-
ering for yourself that the things that you continue to
search for can only be truly identified within you. All one
really needs to do you see is to stop long enough to formu-
late the right questions:
• Who am I?
• What is my purpose in life?
• When will I be free?
• Where am I going?
• How am I going to get to where I need to go?
For as long as I can remember, I have been continually
running after or away from something. Eventually, I came
to understand that what I was trying to do more than any-
thing else is to escape the unpleasant conditions and reali-
ties of what was for me an insufficient and unpleasant
home life.

DRAFT
Never being one for sitting still, behaving all that well or
very skilled at deferring gratification, early on I became
quite the handful, and a bit of a recurring headache for a
number of my immediate caretakers.
Born the second of two boys, it was my older brother Jef-
frey who was my keeper most of the time. That is the par-
ticular role that was assigned to him by our single working
mother, Velma Rose Greene. Greene was her maiden
name as the daughter of both William and Elisabeth
Greene who happily resided at 28 Melrose Place which is
located in West Caldwell, New Jersey.
My grandmother, Nana as we fondly call her, still lives in
the same ranch style home that her husband and our
Grandpa purchased back in the late 1950’s. This was a
most remarkable achievement for Negroes in the United
States during that time period. Nana, who is originally
from Virginia, became 103 years old on February 12th
2014. Her Father’s, father Benjamin Feggin I am told, was
an Irishman.
Today, I wish that I knew the actual area in Ireland from
which his parents originated so that I might have the good
fortune of visiting there one day to pay my due family
respect. That is because I have come to believe that so
much of who we are in life is about our connections to the
past and therefore I actively seek to truly honor all who
came before me.
Nana has always been and continues to be the true stal-
wart of our family. Writing this personal story is just as
x Preface

DRAFT
much a tribute to her and my grandfather as it is to so
many other good people much like my friend Sal along
with his older brother who played such a positive role in
both of our lives during preadolescence. The significance
of seeing Sal being raised by his loving older brother
painted a contrasting picture for me of what family, love,
and security actually looked like. All I can say is, what a
loving brother and what a tremendously responsible son.
As a youth, I was a member of one of only four African
American families then living in Caldwell, New Jersey for
many years. All together, we were so few as to not be the
least bit disturbing to anybody else.
Long before I reached 12 years old, I began running away
from home. Initially, it was to the arms of my Nana. I
always felt that she could understand another person’s
pain no matter their circumstances, as she unconditionally
accepted and loved you, and would of course feed you and
warmly bed you down for the night until the raging storm
of a young kid’s malcontent had gradually and safely
blown over.
Unfortunately, this propensity that I had for seeking
escape and not directly accepting personal responsibility
for my actions is something that would end up plaquing
me for most of my young adult life. Consequently, out of
necessity I continue to try and better understand how this
behavior has generally impacted upon the person that I
have grown to become.
Preface xi

DRAFT
If I were asked to define my life as a child, I guess that I
would best describe myself as having been a perpetual run-
away, a person who was constantly in search of the signifi-
cance that I was not able to readily find at home.
xii Preface

DRAFT
CHAPTER 1
Facing Your Demons
dmittedly, I have found that trying to humbly, truth-
fully, and respectfully tell one’s story can at times
produce a surprising strong level of anxiety. For this
reason, I did have to ask myself, am I prepared to revisit
past childhood hurts, personal missteps, shortcomings or
old wounds, some of which may still prove mildly sore,
with the degree of courage, honesty, humility, and wisdom
that may be required?
The truth is, this whole idea was really that of my junior
high school age friend Sal.
Last year, at the 40 year anniversary of James Caldwell
High School student graduates he said, “Jonathan you
should go ahead and tell your story” that is, “where you
started from in life and how you were able to eventually
get to where you now find your “self.”
A

DRAFT
Without even saying anything, I sensed that Sal knew
equally as well as I did that there had been a time in my
past life when facing particularly hard times and poor
choices seemingly made the possibility of my having a
bright and promising future look mighty bleak. After all,
being a black, fatherless, poor, and skinny little kid was far
from a golden ticket to a life of success back in the mid-to-
late 1960’s in typical small town America.
Well, after giving Sal’s idea some serious thought for about
two weeks, it occurred to me that his suggestion might
actually be the best opportunity ever for me to finally ‘face
my demons’ by reflecting more intently on who I have
managed to become, what I would like to now do with the
rest of my life, and most important of all, how I intend to
go about making sure that I have finally learned to stick to
my guns when it comes to achieving the very things that
matter most to me at this advancing stage in my life?
Today, quite obviously there are plenty of kids out there in
the mean streets of many neighborhoods that have it
much tougher than I ever did. I believe that this is largely
because these youth greatly lack the financial, emotional,
social, and spiritual support often made available to me
during some of the most critical stages of my personal
development.
In light of this, I thought to myself, let me now go ahead
and make an attempt to look for the possible similarities
embedded in my past experiences in life with the hope that
I can some how identify some personal frames of reference
that may offer encouragement, hope, and generate alterna-
2 Runaway

DRAFT
tive ideas for today’s stuggling youth. I also feel very
strongly that I actually owe this to the next generation.
After all, each of us deep down inside has the need to do
more than to just exist or to simply get by in this world.
Our lives need to make sense to us first and foremost. On
this, I feel confident that we can all easily agree.
JD
Facing Your Demons 3

DRAFT
CHAPTER 2
Overactive and Underachieving
s a child, I proved to be far more than your average
single mother, on welfare, and with two other kids
could easily handle. I absolutely abhorred being still or
staying put. For the most part, it simply felt unnatural to
me.
My older brother Jeffrey and younger sister Michelle were
never as prone to acting out, failing to follow rules or to
displaying a lack of self-control as much as I was. As a
matter of fact, I think that I got into enough mischief for
all of us.
It is quite possible that they felt sorry for me on occasion
and wondered how one of their siblings could end up
having to be spanked more frequently than they brushed
their teeth. The reality is that there simply was no stopping
me and seemingly no limit to the ongoing pursuits of my
wild and youthful imagination.
A

DRAFT
By today’s standards, I would have been labeled as having
attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). The
ADHD diagnosis in fact fit me so well that you could have
included my portrait alongside the definition as a picture
perfect example.
It seemed back then as though if I thought about some-
thing long enough then the likely next step for me, as the
Nike slogan proclaims, was to ”Just do it!” For example,
once a neighborhood friend came over to my house with
his new dart board and darts. We immediately went out
into the backyard to hang the dart board on a tree trunk
and with great excitement we both began throwing darts
at the colorful bulls-eye target. After seemingly hours and
hours of practice, I mistakenly got it into my head that I
was pretty darn good.
Impulsively and recklessly, I thought that I could easily
strike the dartboard while my friend was still standing
directly in front of it. With his back to me and without any
forewarning, I threw one of the darts at the target. Regret-
ably, it went completely off mark and ended up piercing
my friends right earlobe sending him into the loudest pos-
sible cry of agony and pain.
Clearly, I did not think about how I might be endangering
my friend. My poor judgment and self-deception was
framed in wrongly thinking that I had somehow gained a
level of mastery over dart throwing that would allow me to
perform an incredible feat like those only seen then on the
television screen or done as part of some spectacular
circus act.
Overactive and Underachieving 5

DRAFT
Without a doubt, my friend’s parents concluded that I was
an absolute menous to society and as a result, I swiftly lost
what for me was a close childhood friendship forever, and
deservedly so. I also got one hell of a beating from my
Mother later that afternoon which was equally well-
earned.
There is probably a very good chance that my Mother may
have also thought that I was a little touched in the head
but I do not recall her having ever said anything as
alarming as that. Heaven knows, I certainly put my
Mother through an aweful lot as a kid.
Unbeknownst to others, for this and other misdeeds, I was
sent to the in-school guidance counselor and an out-of-
school psychologist all in an attempt to try and figure out
once and for all why I was so prone to being such a
problem child.
My Mother did express concern from time to time that I
was going to end up being just like my father who she
apparently believed was no damn good and never would
amount to anything.
However, she never did provide me with any more infor-
mation than that. I suppose the mere fact that he was not
present in our lives even though we sorely needed him
could easily be viewed as sufficient justification for her
negative feelings on the matter.
Some of the adults who were familiar with me would argue
from time to time in my favor stating their case, that I was
6 Runaway

DRAFT
a likable and not at all an outright mean-spirited kid.
Regardless of this factor, my judgement was routinely
poor and I often did need close supervision.
Unfortunately, there were a couple of other kids in the
neighborhood who were also deficient in the important
area self-control. Since we knew one another, much to the
consternation of our parents, we tended to gravitate
toward each other with the common prospect of creating
an enormous amount of excitement for ourselves.
As is often said, mischief does seem to love company.
Before long, the overwhelming recommendation by others
was to try and involve me in organized extra-curriculum
activities. Preferably, the sort that would require that I
practice closely following rules, assimilate positive virtues,
and become regularly exposed to exemplary male role
models that would be apt to sit on me so to speak if I even
slightly looked like I was about to get out of line.
Of course, I initially resisted such efforts but the talented
people that were inserted into my life would prove the
better in successfully wearing me down, channeling my
energy, and progressively guiding me in completing all of
my assigned tasks whether it was in summer camp, weekly
church activities or the recreational activities provided at
the YMCA were I learned to regularly participate in arts
and crafts, swimming, and playing basketball.
The combination of these efforts served to build my self-
confidence, facilitated my making new friendships, and
Overactive and Underachieving 7

DRAFT
served to improve my ability to focus on tasks both inside
and outside of the classroom. As a result, my grades began
moving upwards. It also became increasingly clear to me
that no matter how good an athlete you were, if your
grades were not up to par then you could not be permitted
to enjoy the priviledge of participating in school sports, or
receiving the accolades and popularity that often comes
along with being a school athlete.
Being every bit the attention seeking sort of rascal that I
was and having reached the start of puberty, being
counted out of sports would no longer do for me. I was
hooked on eventually becoming a good athelete.
Don’t let me fool you though, for the longest time I was
still tremendously overactive, albeit less prone to being an
underachiever in most areas.
8 Runaway

DRAFT
CHAPTER 3
A Turning Point
ne of the worst habits that I picked up and struggled
with during my childhood, was the tendency to take
things that did not belong to me. A Psychologist’s might
very well refer to this as having poor impulse control.
Let me be blunt, I was a thief. On one occasion, my grand-
father told a family whose house we were visiting for the
evening that “if you have anything valuable laying around
like money or jewelry then you had better put it up
because my grandson is a thief and given the chance he
will steal from you!”
Was I embarrassed by my Grandfather’s statement? Yes, I
was. Nevertheless, what he said was true. I imagine that he
felt that providing a very clear and cautionary message
regarding my dishonest, selfish and untrustworthy
behavior was an important duty and public responsibility.
O

DRAFT
Looking back, I came to realize that this dishonest
behavior all started with something as seemingly innocent
as sneaking cookies out of my Grandmother’s cookie jar
which she kept in the kitchen. Learning this feat took
plenty of repeated practice for me to be able to actually
acomplish the task without detection. It most certainly
represented a defiant refusal to accept the rules defined by
others or to self-regulate in way that allowed for the
deferral of sensory gratification.
In time, I moved on to taking money from the purses and
wallets of immediate family that is until everyone finally
stopped leaving their valuables lying around within my
general line of sight.
These actions culminated with my shoplifting just about
anything and everything (i.e., candy, food, clothing, comic
books, jewelry, and small electronic items) prior to for-
mally becoming a teenager.
Between age 10 to 12 years old I had been caught stealing a
number of times, sternly warned, and then asked not to
return to certain places of business by store owners. It had
not as yet resulted in any direct or serious consequences
involving law enforcement. I imagine that right now, you
are probably wondering, how in the world could this have
been the case?
Well one afternoon, when I was in the eighth grade and
living with my grandparents, I finally got caught in a
supermarket by the store detective as I was trying to
remove a record album from beneath my coat so that I
10 Runaway

DRAFT
could place it back on a shelf inside the store. I decided to
take this action because I thought that I may have been
seen while attempting to conceal the item.
Yes in fact, I was “busted” and as a result, I got marched
straight to the business office where the store detective
subsequently contacted the police department and notified
them of my unlawful actions.
Then, for the very first time, upon hearing the store detec-
tive state that he was going to drive me to the police sta-
tion, I became very scared over the possible consequences
of my actions. I assumed at that point that I would be
arrested and ultimately locked up.
Once we arrived at the police station, they contacted my
Grandfather informing him that while the supermarket
had decided that they were not going to press charges that
my Grandpa would still be required to come over to the
police station, sign some papers, at which point I would
then be released into his custody.
Well guess what? My Grandpa refused to come and get
me. That’s right. He said, “you can keep my grandson
there with you over night!” “Maybe it will really do him
some good.”
What? I thought to my self.
Subsequently, I had to be driven back to my grandparents
house by the police in broad daylight which meant that all
the neighbors would see me along with my Grandpa
A Turning Point 11

DRAFT
standing there and looking none to pleased peering out of
the front storm door of his house.
Let me now share with you a bit about my grandfather.
Grandpa was a professional barber who owned his busi-
ness located in Montclair, New Jersey. He was a very dig-
nified and well respected person in the community where
he worked as well as the one in which he lived. I think it
fair to say, that most people found him to be a man of few
words and highly principled.
Grandpa never really had to say much because you could
generally tell what he was thinking or whether he
approved or disapproved of your actions simply by taking
a good look at the expression on his face. Well, on that
particular day and in that moment upon arriving back at
his house, his face seemed to say it all. “Boy, have you lost
your mind?”
Later that same evening, we had dinner together as if
nothing had happened. When our meal finished, Grandpa
proceeded to say, in a very matter of fact manner, “the
police have never been to this house before for any reason
until today Jonathan, and today you brought shame upon
our home by having them bring you home for shop-
lifting.” “Stealing is something that you have repeatedly
been told by your Mother, Nana, and I not to ever do.”
He followed up his proceeding comments with, “I want
you to have your suit case packed by first thing tomorrow
morning because you cannot stay here in this house with
12 Runaway

DRAFT
us any longer.” “You must now go back to living under
your Mother’s roof.”
That was the end of what he had to say. I was being kicked
out.
That night, I didn’t sleep at all. The seriousness of the sit-
uation made it impossible for me to get the slightest bit of
rest. The one thing that kept running through my mind
over and over again was, “what have I done?” An impor-
tant factor to consider but clearly to late to be taken seri-
ously.
The next morning, while we were in route to the town of
Montclair from Caldwell, my Grandpa hadn’t said a single
word to me and his prolonged silence felt to me as though
I was being slowly tortured. I didn’t know what to think.
In fact, I couldn’t even think straight. I was just scared.
When he finally did speak, it was to say “Jon you are 12
years old now and very soon you’re going to become a
teenager. I think that it is about time for you to start
thinking seriously about exactly what kind of man you
want to grow up to become in life.”
Frankly, I don’t think that I had even started giving this
concept very much thought. Grandpa then said, “The
choices that you are making right now are bad ones and if
you go on making choices like the one that you made yes-
terday then they are going to surely lead you right into a
reformatory school or even worse straight to jail. I know
that you’re not a stupid kid.” “So, let me ask you this, is
A Turning Point 13

DRAFT
that the kind of future life that you really want for your-
self?”
“Because you do not have a good relationship with your
Mother and your father is not present in your life, both
Nana and I had decided to let you stay with us. However,
in light of what you’ve done, you are going to have to live
with the consequences of your actions and now figure out
for yourself how to make the most of a situation that you
have actually gone and made much worse.”
It was crystal clear that Grandpa was deeply disappointed
with me. But, I think that he still believed that I could take
this poor conduct and possibly learn from my mistake if I
really spent the right amount of time thinking about what
I wanted, what I needed to do differently, and began to
focus more attention on making better choices going for-
ward. Still, it would be soley up to me to now do.
It didn’t take me very long to be able to see for myself that
absent Nana’s and Grandpa’s love and support, my life
was going to get harder than I could possibly imagine and
that was a pretty terrifying thought to me at the time.
As I grew older and came to recognize how worried
Grandpa was for me, I also came to more fully appreciate
how hard it must have been for him to respond to my sit-
uation in the way that he did. It was one the most loving
thing that he could have done for me and it proved to be
the real turning point in my preadolescent life.
14 Runaway

DRAFT
According to Nana, at no time did Grandpa ever let go of
his hope for me.
For the first time in my young life, not only did a feel like
an idiot but it also felt awful to see how badly that I had
both hurt, disrespected, and destroyed my grandfather’s
trust. I have always remembered that long car ride back to
my Mother’s home the next morning and even as I write
this story I can still hear Grandpa’s lingering words as if
they were freshly being spoken to me today.
When I walked back into my Mother’s house
that morning only to hear say to me that she always knew
that I would fail and that once again I had to accept what
seemed to me at the time to be her extremely harsh disci-
plinary practices and punishments, well I knew right then
and there that I simply could not return to living under
her roof again. I had been out from under her direction for
nearly one year and God bless her but she had lost me to
the world outside. I do not blame my Mother for any of
my past behavior, my character flaws or the bad decisions
that I made in my life. They were always conscious choices
made by me. I gradually learned that what ultimately mat-
ters most in life is to hold ourselves fully accountable for
our actions. No one else.
That day though, I decided to run away again for the thir-
teenth and final time never to return home to my Mother
again. Suddenly, I was less afraid of the outside world
most likely because I did not as yet have any idea of what I
should be afraid of.
A Turning Point 15

DRAFT
For the remainder of that year, I lived in a neighbor’s tree
house, a dog house, on local golf course benches, and
when possible I alternated between friends homes for sev-
eral days and even weeks at a time. All of this took place
right within Caldwell, New Jersey.
During that period, I thankfully wore my friends clothes
and I was often financially supported by their parents. I
was very fortunate not to have experienced any harm or to
have succumbed to doing further damage to myself or
others. All that I can tell you is that more than anything
else I wanted to survive and become good person. In many
ways, I was largely surrounded by goodness and you can
bet that during that rough period I was clinging on to my
surroundings ever so tightly for my dear life.
When I finally ran out of good will, I ended up becoming a
ward of the State of New Jersey under the Division of
Youth and Family Services (DYFS) and I was eventually
placed in a Children’s Shelter located in Bellville, New
Jersey for the remainder of that school year. Later in the
summer of 1968, under the National Fresh Air Fund Pro-
gram, I was sent away to a camp located in Mountaindale,
New York for the better part of that summer.
With what proved to be extra time on my hands and not
enough to do I was fortunate to have found a part-time job
working in a Jewish bakery (i.e., Friedman’s) where I
learned how to make bagels and Halla Bread as a paid
Baker’s Assistant.
16 Runaway

DRAFT
In the afternoons and evenings, I played basketball with
the two older young men also working at the bakery; Barry
who attended Niagara University in New York and his
younger brother, who was attending St Bonaventure Uni-
versity in New York. Nearly every day we played together
against other talented college basketball players whose
families were vacationing in the Sullivan County area of
upstate New York.
Truly, I was learning on my feet how to make the most of
my opportunities while also managing to stay out of
trouble as much as possible. I was introduced at that time
to alcohol, drugs, and sex. None of these diversions ever
came to dominate my life because whenever I was
removed from such cirmcumstances I always returned
back to the safe haven of Caldwell, New Jersey. That is not
to say that these things could not be found there as well.
However, the difference was that the friends and families
that I was most familiar with were far more protective over
what their kids did, where they went, and who they spent
time with. As a result, I benefited from their care, lifestyle,
and overarching concern for every local area kids general
well-being. For the most part, my friends and I were typi-
cally to busy to really get into too much mschief. We
weren’t angels by any means but we were seriously afraid
of really screwing things up for ourselves or anyone else
for that matter.
Years later, back in the good graces of my grandparent’s,
during one of the many Sunday afternoon’s that I spent
having dinner at their house I took the opportunity to tell
my Grandpa how much I loved him and how thankful I
A Turning Point 17

DRAFT
was for all that he had done for me throughout my entire
childhood. Moreover, I let him know too, that if he had
not shown me the sort of tough love that he did when I in
fact needed it the most that I might not have been as
driven in late adolescence to get into college or to see my
studies through to completion with the hope of one day
making him feel proud that I had gained the capability to
wisely learn from my past mistakes.
My grandparents proudly attended my high school gradu-
ation from Clifford J. Scott High School in East Orange,
NJ back in 1973 and I continued to have a very close and
loving relationship with them throughout my years at col-
lege including my travels to England, France, Italy, Ger-
many and Austria during the summer going into my
senior year at Holy Cross College located in Worcester,
Massachusetts.
18 Runaway

DRAFT
CHAPTER 4
Born in Montclair but forever a
Caldwell ‘Chief’
ith the summer of 1968 drawing to a close, I had no
place to return to other than back at the Bellville
Children’s Shelter in New Jersey. It remained unclear then
where I would end up going to school during my forth-
coming freshmen year of junior high school.
Going back home was no longer a viable option. I had offi-
cially become a foster child.
My first preference was to return to Caldwell where my
closest friends were: John, Brian, Mark, Eddie, Ricky,
Richie, Dave, Glen, Frank, Ken and others. I always had an
enormous attachment to my community. It is there that I
felt the most connected, loved, and safe. I was determined
to some how right my past, make good, and stand tall
alongside my friends as a fellow champion either in some
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sport or other arena of life before having to one day move
on.
Back then, even when we weren’t all involved in the same
activities we still made it a point to support our buddies
like Richie, Glen and Dave Rice with their wrestling and
we were able to empathize with them during their crazy
dieting practices along with those hot showers that they
would resort to walking through in their wet suits all in an
effort to get themselves down to their correct weight level
just in time for their upcoming wrestling match of that
day.
At one point, in the late summer of 1968, I recall tele-
phoning and then begging a couple of male teachers to
take me in for just one year so that I could at least com-
plete ninth grade at Grover Cleveland Junior High School
in Caldwell. However, it was not going to be possible
because in each case neither of these single men were
deemed to be able to provide a suitable family atmosphere
for a teenager.
Soon thereafter, it was actually my Mother who contacted
the Garlette family to ask them if it might be possible for
me to live with them. Their son John and I had been the
best of friends all throughout elementary school.
In my view, what my Mother did was probably humil-
iating, yet very loving, and sadly I never found a way or
the occasion to thank her. I wish that I had done so
because she deserved to know that her humility and love
was and is to this day greatly appreciated by me.
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Thankfully, the Garlettes said yes making a second stay in
the Bellville shelter a very brief one. I then became
enrolled at Grover Cleveland Junior High School a week
or two into the school year and I could not have been a
happier camper.
John and I shared a bedroom together that year and it was
awesome being at the Garlette dining room table for every
meal with Mom, Dad, and five other kids (i.e., Bill, Janet,
John, James and Eddie) from which their parents wanted
to hear each kid regularly recap the special events of their
day.
The amount of milk, bread, cookies and other food items
that we all went through every day would absolutely blow
your mind. Everyone was sure to see to it that I always had
enough to eat.
There were times during my early childhood that I can
recall going into the local supermarket and opening up
bags of potato chips and cookies and eating them right in
the store because I was that hungry. As a family living on
welfare assistance it was rare for us to have a refrigerator
full of food throughout the entire month. The last week of
the month was always the most difficult and without store
credit there were times when we would have to go
without much more than bread, cheese, milk, and peanut
butter.
Mrs. Garlette’s French toast and stuffed peppers and
Spanish rice were among some of my most favorite meals
while I lived with them. In fact, she served Spanish rice
Born in Montclair but forever a Caldwell… 21

DRAFT
and stuffed peppers once a week just for me. She was a
very kind and special lady!!! God bless her soul.
Mrs. Garlette would bring home clothes for me to try on
regularly. I have no idea where they came from but they
ususally were a good fit. Those that were not became
quickly gathered up by the rest of the guys in the house.
No questions were asked.
On occasion, Mr. Garlette would personally take me shop-
ping for a nice overcoat or light spring jacket at the Cald-
well Men’s Shop with the clothing allowance that the State
of New Jersey provided for foster kids on a quarterly
basis.
The Garlette family made sure that I never wanted for
anything that year. I was very, very happy and I know that
I was loved by my new family. It was evident to me that
having two parents: Mother and Father created a com-
pletely different dynamic in the home. The household
operated more like a team. As kids, we all had two
coaches and one or the other was always present and we
were equally accountable to both. Things ran more
smoothly and you could always find much needed reassur-
ance so there really was no need to look outside the house
for a sense of worth.
John loved music and so did Bill a trumpet player. John
introduced me to Sly Stone, Blood, Sweat and Tears, all of
the Beatles albums, Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones,
and the incredibly talented group YES. Even now, I am
still very fond of music because it is something that can
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DRAFT
easily be shared with others and I find that it truly does
sooth the soul. Listening to enjoyable music is often my
escape from the demanding problems of the day or an oth-
erwise restless mind.
Janet was and I am sure still is a very pretty, sweet, quiet
and smart lady. She served as a ‘Candy Striper’ at a nearby
hospital on Sunday afternoons and I always admired her
for the compassion that she displayed by becoming a dedi-
cated volunteer so early in her life.
Every evening, Mrs. Garlette made herself available for
anyone that needed help with their homework. There
would be no excuse on anyone’s part for receiving poor
grades. We knew where to find the help that we needed
and Bill as the oldest and Janet as an A-student both
pitched in wherever necessary.
If my memory serves me correctly, I remember that Mr.
Garlette used to enjoy watching cartoons early on Sat-
urday mornings. While sitting in a folding chair he would
laugh out loud like Santa Claus which I thought was a little
strange at the time. Looking back in retrospect, I now see
his deliberate actions quite differently. They look far more
like an important chosen end of week release: a kind of
‘humor therapy’ of sorts. What a very clever man Mr. Gar-
lette showed himself to be?
Yes, I was also blessed to be able to experience becoming a
Caldwell ‘Chief’ by playing football that fall for the first
time in my life which was all the more special for me given
that my Mother had always refused to let me do so. She

DRAFT
felt that I was to frail to play football. In reality, I probably
was too skinny but I found it really difficult to accept the
notion that I couldn’t do something especially if it
involved being actively engaged with my best friends.
Our then Coach Ken Trimmer used to let Sal LaDonne
and I race each other along with the rest of the team at the
end of every day’s football practice.
We were the two fastest kids on the team back then. I
guess like every other young boy I just wanted to know for
myself and I also wanted to prove to others that I could
measure up with anybody.
Honestly, I don’t think that I ever actually beat Sal in a
foot race but it sure was one great thrill for me being the
only kid who ever came close to keeping up with him.
Boy, could he move his feet.
Something else that I vividly remember is Coach Trimmer
making me run “sweep right, 26, on 1” at least a dozen
times in a row during football practice. I didn’t know it
then but he was trying to help me overcome the fear that I
had of getting tackled and at the same time to widen my
vision when running. During the next game that we
played that season he sent me in to run a play, you guessed
it was a sweep to the right or left I don’t recall that detail.
However, I actually gained yardage for the team. In that
special moment, I could feel and hear the whole team
pulling for me and I wanted to do my very best. That day
someone who was in the position to do so gave me a fair
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DRAFT
chance and because they had prepared me they trusted
that no matter what I might face that I would be capable of
doing my best and absent of fear. After that day, I think
that I felt as though I could take it from there.
Thank you so much Coach Trimmer for teaching me a
very empowering life lesson.
By now, I am pretty sure that you have begun to see how
much I loved what was and continues to be a very multi-
ethnic and working class community less than 40 miles
west of Manhattan, New York.
Although I was black, being an athlete afforded me an
opportunity to break down some barriers to acceptance
from my peers as well as other members of the wider com-
munity. This fortunately extended to the rather delicate
area of dating outside my race. This was still very much
forbidden at the time.
Either I would have to invent a strategy for dating white
girls or there would be no dating girls at all for me. There
were no black or Hispanic girls my age in my school or
elsewhere in the neighborhood at the time.
There were some white girls and their parents that would
permit us to go to a dance or maybe even a movie together
and of course there were others who wouldn’t think of
allowing such a think to take place. I really think that their
concern was probably more out of what others might
think of them rather than their own outright dislike of
black people or an actual mistrust of me in particular.

DRAFT
Those were simply the times that everyone was living in.
However, the race issue was never big enough in my life to
make me feel significantly less than anyone else. Thank
you to Allison, Toby, Nancy, and Karen for the accept-
ance, courage, friendship and the kindness that you all
showed me as close and special social acquaintances.
For my age, I was progressing into a fairly skilled basket-
ball player. As a result, both Jeff Edwards and I were
invited by Coach Trimmer to practice with the Varsity
players at James Caldwell High School at the end of our
freshman season. This was a very significant honor that
Coach extended to at least one or two freshman players
every year.
Coach Trimmer kept a pretty watchful eye on me all of the
time as all truly caring coaches tend to do with their up
and coming athletic prospects. This is certainly another
very good reason today for young boys and girls to look at
becoming actively involved in school sports.
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DRAFT
CHAPTER 5
Unconscious and Black
n the Spring of 1970, my older cousin Andre’ Deshong
who was also going through the Caldwell school system
began taking more of an interest in my life and in partic-
ular the extent to which I was lacking in an important
sense of black consciousness.
Andre had recently become involved with a Black Men’s
organization (the Congress of African People (a nation-
alist organization) located in East Orange, New Jersey that
was inspired by the dramatist, novelist and poet, Amiri
Baraka (LeRoi Jones) from Newark, New Jersey then one
of the most respected and widely published African-
American writers. The leader of this east orange group,
Balozi Zayd Muhammad was also the head of the Pan
African Organization (a united organization of groups
from the United States, the West Indies, and the conti-
nents of South America and of Africa and of which the
Committee for a United Newark and B.C.D. were mem-
I

DRAFT
bers) an official NGO then affiliated with the United
Nations.
Upon my first meeting with the organizations leader;
Balozi, I was asked a number of rather direct questions
and I did not recognize right in that moment that an elab-
orate and systematic process of social indoctrination had
begun on the dangers of being overwhelmingly influenced
by Western European Culture and “white people” in gen-
eral. I had not previously heard anyone speak in the
manner that he did that day concerning the negative influ-
ences of western civilization or colonialization. I was
intimidated and intrigued at the same time. Balozi spoke
with the commanding authority of a father figure possibly
explaining to his son some of the cold and hard facts of
life.
Eventually, I would come to see Balozi as a very charis-
matic, articulate, authority on African and Black Amer-
ican history with seemingly sincere prophetic aspirations
as a black leader and activist. At that time, there were ten
other men living in his home. All of them were strongly
committed to black activism, entrepreneurialism, and as
they would often say, ‘nation building.’ What the home
did not have as yet was a local area youth being groomed
to become a community organizer and leader in either one
of the two existing high schools in the town of East
Orange. In a relatively short period of time, I would
become the first of their many intended ‘student recruits’.
Balozi went on to inform me that my cousin Andre had
spoken with him about the prospect of my becoming more
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DRAFT
exposed to someone with his professional stature, knowl-
edge, interests and experience in serving as a mentor to
other black males. Moreover, he discussed with me the
advantages that existed in gaining an ongoing exposure to
multiple role models who were attending colleges in the
area, not to overlook the broad range of programming that
they had already begun sponsoring in the surrounding
community through their partnering relationship with
Amiri Baraka’s Kawaida, a Black Muslim organization
which focused on African and Black American history,
Swahili language, the mother tongue of the Swahili people,
adherence with the teachings of Islam, African culture and
wearing traditional dress, and the teaching of high level
Martial Arts training in Chinese Kung Fu.
Surely you can imagine how overwhelming all of this must
have seemed to a fatherless fifteen year old black kid still
completely wet behind his ears. Right there, on that day,
Balozi offered me a welcoming seat at his table and
expressed to me that he would be willing to become my
legal guardian and to thereby mentor me like his very own
son.
Subsequently, to mark what he felt was our providential
meeting and my anticipated acceptance of his offer, Balozi
gave me an endearing new name: Akili. The meaning of
the name Akili he explained is ‘Wisdom, intellect, sense’ in
Swahili. With my head now seemingly swimming in the
clouds, I left his house that day wondering what had just
taken place?
Unconscious and Black 29

DRAFT
The most significant take away from all of this for me was
that I no longer had to concern myself with trying to
miraculously change into being white, Christian, or
Republican to symbolically become a person of worth or
to gain economic, educational, intellectual, political, social
or spiritual acceptance and stature in America. So for me,
our meeting served as an absolutely myth defying day.
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CHAPTER 6
Stepping Out of the Comfort Zone
ne year earlier you would of had to gag me, tie me
up, and drag me away from the Garlette’s screaming
and kicking, Caldwell, and pretty much all that I had ever
known up to that point in time. My cousin Andre’ had
managed to single-handedly bring about a most significant
change in my life and he had done so in record time. Back
then, I would do almost anything that Andre advised
because I loved and admired him that much. He was the
oldest male cousin and grandchild in our family, and a
natural born leader.
While it may have taken me a couple of weeks to fully run
deep into this new way of life, it had already begun to dis-
tort how I came to view remaining under the tutelage of a
white family.
Regretfully, my departure from the Garlette household
was not a most respectful or sufficiently graceful one. I
O

DRAFT
mistakenly expressed unjustified dissatisfaction with con-
tinuing to live under their roof and did so projecting a
considerable amount of misdirected arrogance. I may even
have uttered a few insulting remarks in the final hours as a
member of their household. Shame on me!
It was a mean, hurtful, and inexcusable thing to do. This is
something that I came to deeply regret.
Many years later, I purposely revisited the Garlette house-
hold to thank them all for what they had done for me, the
love that they provided to me, and to humbly ask them to
please forgive me for my past unappreciative and disre-
spectful behavior. True to their good nature, they were
immensely kind and willing to do so. Mr. and Mrs. Gar-
lette said that they never thought any less of me over what
happened because they were able to understand how nec-
essary it had become for me as a struggling black youth to
seek and eventually establish a sense of personal identity.
How about that?
More recently, I have been able to further express my love
directly to Bill, Ed, James and John, and I hope that Janet
also becomes equally aware of how much I shall always
love and treasure the very special sisterly relationship that
we shared during an important time in each of our lives.
Upon moving into my new place of residence on Lincoln
Street in East Orange, I discovered that I would be
rooming with a much older gentleman, Kaymu (pro-
nounced ki-e-mu). He explained to me that everyone was
responsible for maintaining the home and for that reason
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DRAFT
we would be sharing all of the day-to-day chores based on
a schedule of duties posted weekly.
I was expected to make my bed every day, do my own
laundry every week, wash dishes, and complete some of
the outdoor seasonal maintenance duties of keeping the
grounds looking their best. These were things that I
already knew how to do and had previously done under
both my Mother’s and Grandpa’s direction once I became
10 years old. So, this all looked to me to be a real piece of
cake. Certainly, nothing that I couldn’t handle.
There were no restrictions made on what school activities
I could participate in as long as they did not end up nega-
tively affecting my grades. In fact, I was strongly encour-
aged to participate in other school activities besides
sports. Some of the examples that were given to me
included the school newspaper, the student government,
the black student union or possibly the school debate
team.
Lastly, it was explained to me that Balozi as a UN repre-
sentative regularly invited first time visiting foreign offi-
cials from other nations to his home, whereby he provided
traditional dishes and festivities, and transportation and
security guard services on an as needed basis. As a
member of the household, I would be expected to be
present for all of these gatherings, to work at learning to
speak Swahili, to be mindful of the Muslim traditions and
practices of several members of the household, and lastly
to take self-defense training classes under the organiza-
tion’s Sensi who was also living there in the home.
Stepping Out of the Comfort Zone 33

DRAFT
CHAPTER 7
Going Global in the Summer of 1970
uring the summer of 1970, Kaymu was invited to
attend the United Nations International World
Youth Conference on the Environment to be held at
McMaster University located in Hamilton, Ontario. He
had purchased two tickets hoping that one of the other
men in the house would be able to join him. Kaymu then
decided now that he had a new roommate that I should be
the first person to be asked to join him for this nearly week
long event. Even though I had never flown on a plane
before and knew absolutely nothing about environmental
issues what do you think I said when Kaymu asked me to
accompany him? Why yes of course, with no hesitation
whatsoever. In my mind, I was about to fast become a
global explorer.
Together, we flew right out of JFK Airport in New York to
Ottawa, Canada and from there on to Ontario where I
eagerly attended every single session that Kaymu signed us
D

DRAFT
up for. As a result, we were able to meet people from all
over the world that week.
Most of the workshops that we attended focused on issues
pertaining to West Africa. Because Kaymu was fluent in
speaking French, he easily made new friends with youth
from Mali, Benin, Ghana, Liberia, Senegal and Nigeria.
What a incredible experience that week proved to be for us
both. For me, it felt as though I was back at the New York
World’s Fair all over again amidst people from all over the
globe.
There was one thing that I was a little uncomfortable with
but still unable to escape.
Apparently, you could not truly call yourself a program
participant if you did not advance any questions, make
any statements, or share any acknowledgement of current
facts at the sessions. With that being the case, my room-
mate and newest mentor insisted that I come up with at
least two questions to ask in each and every English
speaking presentation that we were scheduled to attend. I
did manage to do so despite my reluctance.
Later in the year, upon review of some reporting on the
event, we discovered that at age 15, I was the youngest
person to attend the conference. Overall, the average age
of the attendees ranged between 21 and 35 years old. The
World Youth Conference on the Environment experience
greatly expanded my sense of wonder and excitement
about the world in which we live.
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DRAFT
Shortly after we returned to New Jersey, Balozi was sched-
uled to host a dinner at home for Julius Kambarage
Nyerere a Tanzanian politician who served as the first
President of Tanzania followed by a another dinner for
Jomo Kenyatta the first president of Kenya and a promi-
nent independence leader.
Several of us went to JFK Airport to welcome our guests to
the United States and then transported them by limousine
from New York to New Jersey and then back to the hotels
that they were staying at during their brief visit to the
United Nations and for their other stops at different land-
mark locations in New York City.
Going Global in the Summer of 1970 37

DRAFT
CHAPTER 8
Welcome to Clifford J. Scott High
School
y entry into tenth grade at Clifford J. Scott High
School was as that of a youth inspired. Not only did
I want to but I actually believed that in some way I could
change the world. Absent from my mind at the time, was
any concept of personal limits.
The embers of promise were afoot in my heart however
my size eleven feet ended up becoming entangled on the
football field one Saturday afternoon against our opponent
in Roselle, New Jersey as I tried to tackle a player on the
opposing team then returning the ball on a kickoff. The
outcome was that I ended up fracturing my right ankle.
The hard cast that I wore was supposed to remain on my
ankle for a total of eight weeks. However, I impulsively
decided to cut it off two weeks early with a dull steak knife
M

DRAFT
so that I could start getting myself into shape in time for
junior varsity basketball tryouts that year.
Not at all in peak form, I still managed to survive Coach
Brian Hill’s cut. This is the same Brian Hill who went on
to become the head coach of the Orlando Magic from
1993 to 1997 and is the Magic’s most successful coach with
a record of 191–104. During that time period, he led the
Magic to their first NBA Finals in 1995 and also led the
team to a 60-22 record the following season. Coach Hill
once told me that he thought I could go on to become a
good college basketball player based on the sound funda-
mental skills that I displayed at the time as a high school
sophomore. He also strongly urged me to concentrate on
one sport. Regretably, I did not heed his sage advise and
as result I failed to ever progress to my fullest potential as
a player. Many times, I have looked back and wished that I
had taken his words to heart. Who knows what might well
have been?
That year, our J.V. team was pretty talented and at the tail
end of the season I got the chance to play in two varsity
games one being for our team’s birth in the Essex County
tournament where I started in one game at the small for-
ward position.
Another activity that I became involved in that year was
the “Bagpipe”, our school newspaper where I filled the role
of reporter. Below, I have included a number of brief arti-
cles which show how my home environment had begun to
shape my developing social, cultural, and political
thinking.
Welcome to Clifford J. Scott High School 39

DRAFT
Blacks, Be Proud! Make Your Future!
In America today we-the young-have become the deter-
miners as our forefathers were the founders. And our chil-
dren, instead of becoming inheritors, will become victims
of society unless we young brothers and sisters unite to
give importance to the basic belief that ALL men are cre-
ated equal.
Many Afro-Americans have the weakness of leaning on,
easing up, watching thereby failing to pursue no further,
saying that as long as Mr. I. M. White is at the top, he will
not let them have and hold onto nothing. But we have our
identity, our purpose, and our direction; now we must
strive for and maintain our future-speaking, creating,
naming, and defining for ourselves instead of being
spoken for and defined by others.
In 1936, Jesse Owens won the hurdles relay in the Olym-
pics in Germany. Adolph Hitler refused to shake his hand
and walked out of the stadium. Since then great men like
Jesse Owes have symbolized blacks rising in America. In
our own lifetime Martin Luther King, Jr. lived what Pat-
rick Henry gave only lip service to: “Liberty or Death.” He
died leading us to the mountain top. If we are to ever go
down the other side of the mountain, if the many failings
of our forefathers are to be amended, then we must fulfill
our dreams together.
Blacks come to understand that you are lovers and sons of
lovers, warriors and sons of warriors, poets and sons of
poets, and all the loveliness here in the world. A brother
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DRAFT
recently said, “I’m going to tell it like it is.” Black brothers
we are on our way to greatness. We have learned that in
order to love we must love who and what we are.
We now know and will remember that there is no such
thing as nigger. Rise up and reach out, Black America,
toward a better tomorrow.
Here is one other example,
Think, People, Think! Love Opens Your Life
Hey world, can you tell me why is it… Why is it our great
black artists, our writers, our poets, and our other images
do not become more dominant images, but a day I had
used? We believe our life after death is our children and
our great works. Thus our black poets die from not being
read. Our images die from society causing erosion of their
minds. Most poets seldom die from overexposure.
Brothers and Sisters: Those of us who are thought to be
wise, but are always criticizing, are a severe blow towards
brothers and sisters who have yet to get an assist which
paves the way to their greatness. This is simply because we
talk without really conveying to the outside what we really
feel on the inside. I’ve learned a great deal in this last year
about my people and about myself. Why we are here and
what is our first cause. I’ve just recently learned what it
means to be a brother, a nationalist. With this knowledge,
I now know that brothers and sisters can no longer be
silent, unconscious robots. You must establish a voice
along with a combined union. I have also yet to change yet
Welcome to Clifford J. Scott High School 41

DRAFT
to change because I do not show what I truly feel. How-
ever, this does not mean I should not help others as well as
myself to begin do so.
Think Progress—How can this school grow? The same as
the body-through experience, development, and great
expectations. Think, people, think! Black people, think-
think black! You don’t grow in one day; it takes many
years. We can get it together and get on the go for love,
which can open our lives and make it possible for us to
taste the very sunlight of Life.
It is safe to say, that all-in-all, steady progress was being
made on my part in adapting to my new learning environ-
ment and without much concern over where it might all
eventually lead me.
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CHAPTER 9
Becoming Too Big for Your Own
Britches
y the time my junior year rolled around, I had
decided not to play football that season. Instead, I
chose to fully concentrate on being Co-Editor-in-Chief of
the Bagpipe along with my good friend Thurston Jeff
Waller who upon graduation from Clifford J. Scott High
School went on to attend Yale University, where he suc-
ceeded in becoming an honor student, an outstanding
middle linebacker, and became the Captain of the Yale
football team in his senior year.
Jeff was sincerely committed to furthering student knowl-
edge about the dangers of drugs and I was equally as inter-
ested in keeping the paper culturally relevant given the
increasing number of African American students enrolling
at the school. The contrast in ideas between Jeff and I pro-
duced an interesting and current paper.
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DRAFT
Take a look at the first article written by Jeff that appeared
in the April 1971 issue;
TJW Speaks
Many weeks of training in how to put a newspaper
together will result in an editorial board take-over by next
year’s juniors come the June issue of the school news-
paper. As one of the two Editors-in-Chief of the new
BAGPIPE, I will stand for two things: exposing the evils of
drugs on young people and uniting the races for the
common good of all students at Scott High School. Drugs
ARE evil. Beautiful people ruin their lives because of them.
They only keep the taker-whether black, white, or yellow-
down. Certainly no aware person would ever deny life to
himself or to the others he pushes drugs on. A new edito-
rial policy will stress a positive action against any force
which seeks to destroy us by drugs or any other means.
The article which I wrote for that same issue of the paper
is included below;
To Deal Truth Habari Gani (How are you in Swahili)?
Next year I’ll speak in each issue-pushing the program,
dealing with facts: relevance, truth, values.
People: to make society better, let’s learn to live together,
sweat together, love together.
Understand, that I’m out to help you appreciate culture-
not to force it upon you, not to say one heritage is more
important than another heritage but to help you discover
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DRAFT
the uniqueness of each cultural inheritance. I’m out to do
my job.
Tanajaribu Kuw Wensi Tu!
Because I am black and proud, I want nothing more than
to share my black consciousness, my self-identity, my self-
determination with you. A United Nations International
World Youth Conference membership qualifies me to tell
you what’s happening before it happens. UNIWYC pre-
sented “Les Ballet African,” and some were able to attend.
Stokely Carmichael spoke at Symphony Hall, and many
heard him. And from this time on, this paper will make
you aware of many more stimulating affairs. Now, let’s
hold onto this feeling. Being quiet-not-involved-keeps us
subdued. In the spirit of Brotherhood, I pledge to you a
most soulful stand. In friendship we will ride our freedom
train together. As I awake with spiritual vibrations, so shall
I rouse all of you to join in a new and important awak-
ening at Clifford J. Scott High School.
Now it would be remiss of me not to also mention another
person who worked on the school paper as a reporter that
year, James Johnson. James went on to attend Columbia
University where he majored in journalism and upon
graduation went to work as a news correspondent for the
New York Times. I think that out of everyone that became
involved with the Bagpipe, James was the individual who
most stayed true to his original calling; a love for writing
and the press. James is a fine person and has always been
highly regarded by all for his great character.
Becoming Too Big for Your Own Britches 45

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East Orange Parly Airs Student Gripes
Later that same year, I led a student strike committee at
Clifford J Scott High School and participated in negotia-
tions with School Superintendent Russell Jackson, fol-
lowing a two-day student boycott of classes. There was no
violence or vandalism during the strike which included
close to 400 of the school’s 1,000 students. Although the
school was fast becoming predominantly black our
demands “had no direct racial overtones.” In fact, one
school administrator stated, “The demands were so rou-
tine that at first we thought they were a smoke-screen for
something else.” The demands involved dances open to
non-students, less police supervision and an open gymna-
sium school, creation of a student study hall from which
students could sign out and the official establishment of a
student faculty grievance board.
Racial tensions however had surfaced during the previous
school year, when a boycott took place by white students
over an assembly-honoring Martin Luther King, Jr with
no major problems having erupted. Students also com-
plained of finding hair and insects in cafeteria food, unsa-
nitary shower facilities and often finding rest rooms
locked. “In addition, they complained of “teacher apathy”
and asked that teachers replace police in supervising social
activities. Then the Honorable Mayor William S. Hart and
Board of Eduction members Richard Davis and Mrs.
Reuter met with us in an effort to assist us in resolving our
grievances.
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Here is another article that I wrote for the Bagpipe a few
months after the student boycott was ended:
Harambee Kwa UMOGA (Celebration of Unity) Habari
Gani (Greetings), Njema Sante (Good morning),
As we begin a new year, we hope to develop a totally new
commitment to the understanding of the Afro-American
personality. We must develop a self-awareness and self-
discipline to work beyond the 6 1/2 hour day in every
aspect of our (students or teachers) dedication. This
means appreciation for an understanding of Afro-Amer-
ican roles: parents, students, family, neighbor, teacher,
nation, and race.
The question today is whether or not we can still develop
healthy attitudes towards the sharing of knowledge, love,
and possession. We need to be committed to those pur-
poses which advance the cause of all people of color.
Blacks today find it difficult to keep needed values. A value
system gives us three things: a predictability of behavior
pattern, and ultimate authority to which we submit, a
means of securing us from our old ways. All people must
accept values for the creation of natural life styles and
development of belief in, need for, and will to become
black and educated, each relating himself to those things
both relevant and beneficial to self. We must develop our-
selves on four levels: self-determination, self-respect, self-
awareness, and self-discipline. Our historical past can give
us inspiration and information; it can inspire us to move,
provide us with the necessary life drive to want to find out

DRAFT
more about ourselves, and inform us in those areas that
are new.
All of our knowledge is based upon tradition and reason.
There are plenty of false interpretations of past human
events; but no knowledge is new, only its arrangements
and application are different. Therefore, we must know
our culture. Without it we shall cease to exist. Together we
must create a new way of life for our children and rise up
and look at the world as a strong Black people.
After several months of working very closely together and
growing our friendship, I would like for you to kindly take
an added look at what my Co-Editor-in Chief wrote at that
point in time;
Prepare For Future Now!
Clifford J. Scott High School is a school long forgotten, a
school which hasn’t always had the financial means
needed to grow and recently has had to go through more
monetary agonies than ever. The time to prepare for the
future is now! We have no time for B.S.A.‘s. We must go
directly to the source of power and get it working for the
powerful people who aren’t afraid to say their name in
Swahili or to say I’m black and proud or to say I’m white
and willing. The students of Scott are seeing their prob-
lems and dealing with them directly. The brothers and sis-
ters of tomorrow aren’t willing to wait for the opportunity
to crack the system of “bow down black man” or to ignore
the wrongs of the system. The change must come now, so
the brothers and sisters, black or white, won’t have to
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suffer injustices. If so changed the black brother will put
down his twenty ton black handled ax. He will then under-
stand himself. He will then be able to compete with
anyone. He will then have an equal chance, no more, no
less. The depressed people of the world are watching the
U.S.A., and the eyes of the community are constantly sur-
veying Scott.
The message above was brave, bold and highly progressive
talk from my more conservative friend at the time and
merit scholar. His words made me feel truly honored to be
his friend.
Although it was quietly kept, I had to relinquish my title as
Co-Editor-in Chief in my junior year because my grades
were not up to par. Jeff took over as the sole Editor-in-
Chief the following January and I went back to just being a
reporter. But instead, of spending more time on my
studies I became coerced by my legal guardian to start a
new club: the B.C.D. which stood for Black Community
Development an existing community organization, which
had received international status within the United
Nations. The chairman, Balozi Zayd Muhammad, and also
my foster parent was a representative of the N.G.O., O.P.I
and the Executive Committee. He was the first Black to
ever hold this position at the UN. The high school already
had a B.S.U. which stood for Black Student Union and
many questions were now being asked about the distinc-
tion between the B.S.U. and the B.C.D. Essentially, the
new B.C.D. club was launched to promote and instill in
the Black students at Clifford J. Scott and the Black com-
munity at large a dedication to self-discipline through self-

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determination, self-respect, and self-awareness. One that
emphasized African American culture, customs, and his-
tory.
The activities of the club were never anti-white but were
definitely pro-black. This included the wearing of African
traditional dress; dashikies and bubbas, the use of African
names and languages, wearing the Natural (Afro),
amongst other external characteristics, all this being aimed
at enabling the young Black to have a feeling of pride for
self and for one’s race. This initiative did not endear me
with a number of the other Black students. In fact, some
thought that what I had done was actually disunifying. I
began to feel as though I did not need to draw any more
attention to myself. But that is exactly what transpired
when I authored a poem that appeared in the Bagpipe
titled, “TELL EM BOUT IT!”
‘Tell’ em ‘bout it’ Black is something that’s out of sight: it
was, is and always will be beautiful. Some people can only
dig it on an emotional level. While we are the ones who,
you see, are Black, proud, and determined one day to be
free. We feel Black is best ‘cause it’s different from the rest.
Why, Black was so hip that it made whitey flip. So he
brought us here in chains and chose Negro for our name.
(The Spanish word meaning black.) He deculturalized and
colonized us. We unlike any other ethnic group had no
land and no language, how can we identify ourselves with
the word Negro? There is no land called Negro, nor lan-
guage called Negro language nor Negros-if you can dig it.
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Well, now we know your game and have agreed that you
ain’t just crazy but definitely insane. You see, Black has
gotten to be so cool now that it makes whitey look like the
fool. Although he helps himself. So don’t mess with us if
you can’t handle the stuff. ‘Cause today we’re together in
any type of weather. If you try it again it might be your
end. Whitey, it’s about time you opened up your eyes; It’s
time for you to realize That our day is almost here and
Nation Time is very near. So get all your weapons and
make sure you have enough ‘Cause from you, sucker, we
ain’t goin’ take no stuff. We’ve got it now-the power of the
head. So look out, whitey, in an hour you may be dead.
With leaders as strong as Muhammed Ali, we know our
people shall one day be free. Well, dig here: what can you
say, what can you do? We learned all this coming from
you. And now it’s backfiring and coming back at you. Hey,
white sucker, ain’t that hip?
Reading this now, causes me to pause and say oh my gosh.
That was one fairly riled up young black fella back then.
My goodness….
“Student’s poem causes stir”
That is the title that ran in the local town newspaper fol-
lowing the City of East Orange Council Meeting where
this issue was taken up with the Clifford Scott principal
Andrew Bobby, Bagpipe adviser Leonard Hooper, and a
group of parents. City Councilman Francis Craig called
the poem “racist and inflammatory,” and City Coun-
cilman William Thomas claimed he was “appalled” by the
piece of poetry. East Orange Mayor William S. Hart said

DRAFT
he had not read the entire poem, but stated, “Children
shouldn’t be allowed to print whatever they want.” “I think
racial harmony is vital and I hate to see any slurs. I don’t
want anyone degraded at all. I also don’t think a principal
should allow school papers to get out of hand to the point
where racial slurs might be printed,” Mr. Hart added.
Today, as an adult and having been a parent of two boys, I
do not think that this poem should have been permitted to
be published in a public school newspaper. There’s
nothing wrong with writing to explore one’s feelings, frus-
trations and questions about the challenges of life or injus-
tices in any manner you like. But it does not mean that it
should be granted an audience in all forums.
As it turned out, the parents of a number of my closest
friends at school were equally disappointed over the words
used in the poem and its tone and they were sure to let me
know about it. I am certainly grateful for that as it helped
me to better understand my responsibility to others. I truly
do regret the ill feelings that the poem produced and I
apologize to all for the poor judgement that it demon-
strated on my part. Most significant of all I would like for
people to know that I out grew the kind of thinking
expressed in that poem. At the time, I had fallen subject to
too strong an influence by others. Ironically, this was the
very thing that I was trying to avoid by continuing to live
exclusively with a white family. Go figure!
In my opinion, I had become a little too big for my
britches and I am thankful that this was pointed out to me
by others, for the manner in which it was pointed out to
me for the most part, and for the people who cared
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enough about me and everyone else to challenge what was
being so loudly conveyed by me at that time in my life.
My personal and public inquiry into the nature of what it
meant to be a young Black American was still an impor-
tant component of my rite of passage as an adolescent
attempting to transition into young adulthood. Fortu-
nately, the emphasis on Black consciousness did not end
up becoming an all encompassing or permanent world-
view subscribed to by me. Because it was clearly short on
humility, inclusion, love, peace and understanding.

DRAFT
CHAPTER 10
Targeted Stabbing
adly, there would come a time in the spring of 1972
that I was so disliked by some students that the word
was out that I was going to be physically attacked. Well,
one of my closest friends, Gregory Reeves besides playing
football and being a swimmer was also a member of the
gleek club and was going to be performing in the
upcoming Spring concert. As good friends do, a number
of us turned out to support him. Both teachers and foot-
ball coaches were on hand as well.
Before the concert was over word began to spread through
the audience that this was the night that I was going to
finally get my butt handed to me. When the concert ended
several athletes, coaches and teachers accompanied me
outside where a number of guys were waiting for me. As
one of the football coaches asked what they wanted one
kid ran up behind me and just as he was about to stab me
in the back our shop teacher, Robert Wright grabbed him
S

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and effectively removed the knife from his hand. Thank
God for Mr. Wright’s presence of mind and fast reflexes.
Mr. Wright had also been a youth counselor at the Bellville
Children’s Shelter while I was there and he actually taught
me how to dunk a basketball and now here he was, in a
split second he had quite possibly saved my life. Thank
you so much Mr. Wright. Wright won the battle that day
for sure.
Quickly, one of the football coaches who was also a gym
teacher began speaking to everyone present about how
crazy this situation was and how serious it could have been
if someone had been injured. Then he left it up to me to
decide whether I wanted to report the incident or simply
drop the matter with the hope that everyone would go
home and think about how everyone’s life could have been
tragically changed in an instance. I said that I just assume
we forget about the whole thing. The other kid apologized,
we all shook hands, and everybody went home. The kid
who was going to stab me was also black, someone who
was constantly in trouble, and rarely stayed in school. That
night this kid came close to changing his life and mine
possibly forever. There must have been at least twenty wit-
nesses to everything that transpired so in retrospect that
kid got a huge break along with a chance to choose
another path for himself going forward.
While the kid who attempted to attack me eventually
dropped out of school altogether he never presented
another problem for me or any other kid at the high
school. This happened to be someone who simply did not
like me for a very long time and he made it known to lots
Targeted Stabbing 55

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of other students. I was his target stabbing that dark night
but we both got the chance to walk away and see the light
of a better day. I hope that his journey became much
clearer and smoother from then onward.
That night I am pretty sure that none of us knew whether
there was something more in store for our lives. Maybe
you are even wondering why you’re here now at this par-
ticular time in the cosmos. This is what the French call
your raison d’etre, an organizing principle and sense of
direction that gives shape and meaning to your life. I
would simply say that after an experience like the one I’ve
just described, whenever you get a second chance that you
should do all that you can to make absolutely sure that you
do not squander it! Because something very meaningful
likely awaits you.
Of course that experience definitely shook me up inside
for a long time. I could not recall having ever done any-
thing bad or wrong to this individual. I never competed
against him in any sport, or tried to date the same young
lady. How could it be that someone could dislike me so
strongly that they were prepared to stab and maybe even
kill me?
It made me strongly question everything that I had been
doing since becoming enrolled at Clifford J. Scott High
School, and then almost overnight I no longer wanted to
be involved in anything. It just didn’t seem to be worth the
emotional investment anymore. As a result, I became a
guarded and less extroverted person. Maybe, some things
happen in our lives precisely so that we are better able to
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get in touch with being stirred up, awakened, and possibly
made ready to respond to both the mysterious and mirac-
ulousness. But I certainly didn’t know truly what to think
at that time.
What happened that night will forever be a mystery to me
but the outcome regardless of the angle from which I look
at it was certainly a gift.
Targeted Stabbing 57

DRAFT
CHAPTER 11
Senior Year A Breeze
n my senior year at Clifford J. Scott High School it felt
good not to have the Bagpipe, the B.C.D. club, or
dreams belonging to someone else to carry upon my back
and there was also the added letting go of remaining in a
house with eleven other men. Thank you very much.
So my last year in high school ended up including just
three things, football, basketball, and an all out full court
press on studying hard enough to pull up my grades more
so that I could possible gain admission to a decent college
and where I could pursue my developing interests.
One of our most talented football players on the team,
Daniel Butler and his Mother, Mrs. Jessie Butler, felt for
quite some time that I a needed a far more nurturing
home setting.
I

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Mrs. Butler as a working single Mother was very gracious,
loving, and happily became my 3rd and final legal
guardian while I was still at Clifford J. Scott High School. I
was blessed with the opportunity to continue living with
the Butler family throughout most of high school and on
up until I graduated from Holy Cross College with a B.A.
in Sociology in May of 1978.
Danny was later the best man at my wedding in June of
1980 and my 23 year old son is also named Daniel partly
out of fond memories of my friendship with Danny.
Senior Year A Breeze 59

DRAFT
CHAPTER 12
Awakening
nner awakening can occur quickly and suddenly or it
can take place gradually over a long period of time. I
have experienced it more as the latter.
The very first time that I can recall experiencing any sort
of religious or philosophical epiphany was on an occasion
in which I was lying on my back in the infirmary at Holy
Cross College with possible flu-like symptoms.
Maybe it was as a result of having to yield myself to the
overwhelming effects of illness and experencing how poor
health can adversely impact one’s ability to keep up with
their studies.
“Burning the candlestick at both ends” by partying to
much, going to the gym nearly every day to play basket-
ball, and regularly lifting weights on off days was taking up
to much time and exacting a heavy toll on my body.
I

DRAFT
Finally, there I was laid out, flat on my back and surren-
dering to an overdue reflective state of mind. In that
moment, for the first time, I began to sense a new and
deeper perspective.
In what is still nearly indescribable, something seemed to
be alerting me to the reality that I was way out of align-
ment with what is affirming, blissful, ceaseless, vision-led
and centered.
Whether what was being felt was coming from within or
outside of me was not yet clear. Something that I couldn’t
quite put my hands on had been eluding me for a long
time and worse yet, may have been contributing to my
falling out of balance beyond the physical level. Rather, at
a deeper soul-felt level. I have never forgotten that very
unusual experience.
There have been times in which I have tried to return to
the keen awareness that arose in me that day. The soft-
light filled the room, the dust particles that seemed
infinite, and everything else seemed ordered in some
strange way. There admist the sounds of busy activity in
the background was this predominant round the clock
attention on everyone’s part to providing me with com-
passionate and supportive care.
Did any of those elements of awareness represent the pre-
conditions for experiencing the deepest perception of life
in the moment? I didn’t know then and admittedly, I am
not sure that I quite know now. But, I am hope-filled, and
now actively seeking greater understanding and wisdom.
Awakening 61

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What I do know though, is that I left that infirmary
somehow different than when I entered it. I’m not refer-
ring here to the lifting of my symptoms. No. At some
point, while there in the infirmary I received an infusion
of ‘spirit’ on some level. It seems to have been a slow
release acting dosage which ended up enlivening me and
propelling me forward for the next two years of college
through a period of unusually high productivity ultimately
yielding very favorable outcomes.
And then what?
Somewhere along the way, I must have taken another
wrong turn, possibly blowing out one or more of my vir-
tues, and then I ended up running of-track, broken again,
lost, out there in the middle of Nowheresville. Once again,
without answers.
I just hate it whenever that ends up happening. How about
you?
Part of this whole awakening thing seemed to entail step-
ping away from the familiar or being set apart from the
ordinariness of common practices. For this to begin, some
how you must be willing to take a leap whether it be for-
ward, sideways, up or down only you will know. But there
is a call to respond by moving away from the place or posi-
tion of your past.
Effectually and effectively you must then decide to go your
own way!
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CHAPTER 13
Graduate School or Work?
pon graduation and having been accepted into The
Master of Arts (Religious Studies) program at the
Chicago Theological Seminary (CTS), I intended to pursue
the two-year graduate program as a foundation for service
in youth counseling. Owing to the lack of financial
resources, I made the decision to defer my admissions for
one year in an effort to gain some work experience and
save money.
A very good friend of mine, Robert Landes happened to
share my situation with his father then President/CEO of
his own international company and he offered to help me
by securing an interview for me with representatives of
ARA Food Services in Philadelphia, PA. Weeks later I was
offered my first job working as a trainee in the hospitality
industry at Newark ‘s United Hospital located in an area of
Newark defined by Central Avenue and West Market
Street in the city’s West Ward. I stayed in that job position
U

DRAFT
for eight months before securing a higher paying job
working for Irving Trust Company at One Wall Street in
New York City. I started there working on the grave yard
shift which after one year absolutely did not agree with me
physically.
In the spring of 1979, I went out on the evening of May
24th to a house party in East Orange with my then room-
mate, Jan Peter Mitchell, who was also a former student at
Holy Cross College and now attending Seton Hall Univer-
sity Law School. The party was being given for both Seton
Hall University Law School and Seton Hall University
Medical School students. I was neither and thus, Pete’s
guest.
That night, I met the lovely Wilda Iris Smithers who was
attending Seton Hall University Medical School in
Newark. After six months of dating we became engaged
and another six months later we were married on June 14,
1980 at Macedonia Baptist Church, her families home
church for many years located in Lakewood, New Jersey.
An attempt was made on my part a few years later to
revisit pursuing my original objective after college by
applying to Drew Theological School. I was accepted and
at the time one of their requirements was that all full time
students must was live in a dormitory setting on campus
in Madison, New Jersey. By now, this was no longer an
appealing lifestyle for my new bride who had experienced
so many years of living in cramped quarters while pur-
suing her medical education and continuing professional
training.
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It seemed then that maybe the time had now come for me
to permanently part with past aspirations altogether espe-
cially if we had any serious plans of growing our family in
the near future. All of a sudden, my life-style of working
man, husband, and eventually father began operating for
the longest on auto-pilot. Our life was not without bumps,
bruises and minor collisions like most other young fami-
lies.
Final Destination, not quite clear yet due to remaining
fog-like conditions.
Graduate School or Work? 65

DRAFT
CHAPTER 14
Taking a Leap of Faith
ack in January of 1990, I took a position as the opera-
tions manager on the night shift at Bankers Trust
Company New York located at 130 Liberty Street on the
36th floor in New York City. It was a difficult time for the
organization then undergoing enormous cuts in their
business activities, including global sales, operations,
product management, credit and technology.
Early on, I had some personal doubts over whether or not
I had what it takes to be successful in such a large organi-
zation. At the time, Bankers Trust Company New York
was still the 7th largest bank in the country and I was
coming from The First National Bank of Toms River, New
Jersey which later on May 25th, that same year filed for
bankruptcy protection. Federal regulators had declared the
bank insolvent after a loss of $165.8 million dollars in
1990. 5,000 shareholders in the bank, holding 9.6 million
shares lost their holdings in the company. The bank that
B

DRAFT
had served the community for 110 years was now gone.
First National Bank of Toms River was a victim of the Sav-
ings and Loan Crisis. It was ranked 19th (in the State of
New Jersey) during the crisis in size, according to a book
value of assets at $1.36 billion dollars.
With a young child at home, a wife, and a newly built
custom home failure was not an option to be considered.
What I needed more than anything else was a solid and
tried bridge for crossing over the great divide between the
person that I had been up until then and the ‘full metal
man’ that I needed to hurry up and transform into for the
benefit of my families safety, security and well-being.
Was I scared? Yes!
What did I do about it? Well I wasn’t sure then if I really
believed in God but I decided to pray like I did anyway
asking to be led through all of the upcoming difficulties of
working at night, commuting back and forth by car from
Lakewood, NJ to New York City everyday, while getting as
little as 4 hours of sleep, and having to perform under
tight deadlines in this new and tremendously fast-paced
business environment where billions of dollars in client
deposits were being processed every day and the potential
for both financial and reputational risk to Bankers Trust
Company loomed large when and if things were not con-
sistently done properly and on time.
After a few months into the new job, I literally let go of all
thoughts of being in control. I took one giant ‘leap of
Taking a Leap of Faith 67

DRAFT
faith’ and let the mysterious power of the divine carry me
forward through it all from that day forward.
Miraculously, the majority of it, which was good enough
for me, was met with high productivity and favorable out-
comes for many of the people around me, my family and
myself. Of course there were mistakes made here and there
but they didn’t break my spirit, my confidence, or my will
to succeed. Even in those few instances involving the most
difficult of circumstances, I chose to be guided by compas-
sion, honesty, humility, and by showing kindness and
respect for others.
Looking back now, I can say that this was one of the most
intense periods of prayer in my life but it is also represents
another significant rest stop or ledge to which I often
return in search of important spiritual forensic clues on
how to reconnect with the immanent-the sacred and to
regain a measure of spiritual strength to light my path
when I am about to fall deep into the dark night.
Once I am able to identify previously undiscovered evi-
dence of the divine, and it seems that I always am able to
do so, it affords me a renewed sense of awe, hope, love,
strength and wonder—enough to go on weathering the
prospect of incoming storms for that particular time and
place.
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CHAPTER 15
A Dream Deferred
hat happens to a dream deferred?
Maybe like an untreated ailment it turns into cancer, then
slowly and steadily it begins to rob you of an organ or in
the case of a dream, you may end up being deprived of
your awareness of an essential talent: “Your giftedness.”
For more than forty years, I have had the good fortune of
being shown by others how to do a great many things. I
must confess to all that I have bungled a good many things
too, but the one thing that I regret not learning well or
much earlier in life is how to really love. Because of this, I
believe that I ended-up contorting myself into someone
unlovable. I have come to know first hand that if one per-
sists in side-stepping being formulated into loving-kind-
ness then they will most assurrredly have a tendency to
carelessly, mistakenly, and unnecessarily hurt others. This
should be avoided with great effort.
W

DRAFT
It really was not until after losing our first child, Jonathan
at eleven years old, followed by accepting the reality of
having to live as an adult with anxiety and depression, and
nearly destroying my marriage multiple times that I des-
perately began looking for the more enduring answers that
I needed and that no one else could provide for me.
Today, I am capable of confirming for myself when I am
traveling on the right road. Still, it can and does become
rough terrain in places but at least now I am spiritually
mature enough to accept that the journey is far from being
over and that this too shall pass.
It is in the off road spaces of life where we run the greatest
risk of becoming broken, mistakenly choose an addiction,
flat out give up, or lay ourselves face down in the middle
of life’s speedway having chosen to sleep and hopefully not
wake up again. It is true that once the serpent of despair
releases its toxic venom into our consciousness, the hor-
rible pain overwhelmingly interrupts our breathing, forces
our eyes tightly shut, at which point it becomes exceed-
ingly difficult to maintain the wherewithal to still reach
out, locate, and grab hold of that innate internal mecha-
nism which controls all energy, light and eternal truth. It
requires a willingness to surrender the will and to welcome
the inflowing of a greater proportion of divine spirit.
As divine beings I believe that we have an obligation to be
intimately familiar with the look of affliction that often
emerges out of despair. Much like the Hemlich Maneuver
everyone can be taught how to prevent the accidental, self-
destruction, and possible death of the soul of another
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person by offering a connective heart and empathically
standing in until more help arrives thereby preventing the
precious life of a fallen child from becoming completely
lost due to enormous fear or immense loneliness.
Do not let the fear of embarrassment, inadequacy, igno-
rance, unfamiliarity or your own personal struggles ever
prevent you from swiftly heeding the life-threatening call
or the brief moment of necessity to respond to the
heartcry of an afflicted soul thereupon discovered. There is
an enormous power to which you may draw upon; look
within to discover it.
There in that moment, lies your freedom, salvation, and
the greatest triumph that can ever be offered, accepted,
and harvested between you, the stranger among us, and
the Almighty Creator of us all.
Go deep, hold fast, and let Spirit reign supreme! I assure
you that It will do Its work through you. All that is
required of you and I is an instinctive willingness of heart
and the complete emptying of the well of self. All of your
needs must be given over to the critical need of lifting up
he or she that has fallen.
When no one else will do, I hereby call upon you to please,
let go of your ego, let the energizing power of love flow
through you and just lean into that great moment of resto-
ration!
A Dream Deferred 71

DRAFT
CHAPTER 16
Learn to Help Yourself
o other people, I might appear to be a nice enough
guy. However, I too have been arrogant, brash,
hurtful, inconsiderate, mean and selfish at times. I am
truly intent though on making these negative traits less
prevalent in my relationships with others. You and I both
know that words are a cheap substitute for reality. There-
fore, it is my actions which I want to be the consistent and
convincing evidence of my improved self-mastery,
wisdom, and spirituality.
What I have discovered within me is the capacity to
change and it is this fact that has helped and continues to
facilitate growth and strengthening in the areas that will
make me the prize winning author of my life. I believe that
we all have this resource inherently built into our bodies,
minds and spirit. It just takes some of us a little longer
than others to reach this common core of divinity that lies
within us.
T

DRAFT
All of us, at some point in life, must learn to help ourselves
not just to survive but to actually flourish. This does not
require that you be religious or if you wish you can be. The
choice is yours. However, you can just as readily compile a
list of virtues and significant spiritual qualities that you
would like to work on to reach the calibre of godliness,
goodness, kindness, holiness, love, or spirituality that gives
you joy and happiness. Clearly, there are all kinds of ways
of being in the world. Go ahead and start now to remake
yourself into the change that you would like to see in our
world (Gandhi)!
A resource that proved very helpful to me is the Alphabet
of Spiritual Practices designed by Darren C. Polito which
is based on the books Spiritual Literacy and Spiritual Rx.
There are also practice homepages that can be found at the
SpiritualityandPractice.com website which you might find
very helpful.
As an alternative, I also encourage you to consider making
use of a tool that I have created and wish to share with you
at this time. It is a list of 50 qualities that I selectively com-
piled and refer to as “The Metrics of Spiritual Transforma-
tion” (TheMoST).
Please feel free to modify this list to best suit your current
developmental needs.
1. Affection: Affection is having genuine concern for
others. (Bertrand Russell)
2. Attraction: Attraction occurs when we open our hearts
with great love and peaceful interactions with loving
people. We do not need to send love but rather feel
Learn to Help Yourself 73

DRAFT
love. …when we chase after anything, it turns away. If
we simply open our hearts and love, we attract all of
the goodness of the universe. (Doreen Virtue)
3. Awareness: Awareness involves being conscious of
one’s current thoughts, feelings, and surroundings.
(Shauna Shapiro)
4. Awe: Awe entails having your consciousness enlarged,
along with the perceptions of everything or becoming
altered from within. (Wayne Teasdale).
5. Beauty: Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees
it. (Confucius)
6. Benevolence: When virtue is lost, benevolence appears,
when benevolence is lost right conduct appears, when
right conduct is lost, expedience appears. Expediency
is the mere shadow of right and truth; it is the begin-
ning of disorder. (Lao Tzu)
7. Calm: Remain calm, serene, always in command of
yourself. You will then find out how easy it is to get
along. (Paramahansa Yogananda)
8. Compassion: Compassion is a call, a demand of nature,
to relieve the unhappy as hunger is a natural call for
food. (Joseph Butler)
9. Commitment: Commitment is an act, not a word.
(Jean-Paul Sartre)
10. Contemplation: What we plant in the soil of contem-
plation, we shall reap in the harvest of action. (Meister
Eckhart)
11. Contentment: Man falls from the pursuit of the ideal of
plain living and high thinking the moment he wants to
multiply his daily wants. Man’s happiness really lies in
contentment. (Mohandas Gandhi)
74 Runaway

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