~ “Order of The Blood” ~

/*

“We killed 23,884 Turks without counting those whom we burned in homes or the Turks whose heads were cut by our soldiers. I have killed peasants, men and women, old and young!”

~ “Order of The Blood” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq., The Elder
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/order-of-the-blood
http://hbcu.com/content/396403/order-of-the-blood

~ “BLOODLUST” ~

‘Revolution, Chews, the Order of Dracul, Kelpians and Rosicrucians’
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq., The Elder

“Sometimes, we would use the entranceway off ‘Bells Mill Road’ into the parking area from Henry Ave. / Ridge Pike in Roxborough or from Chestnut Hill via Germantown Avenue. The fresh water stream was always a pleasure to splash around in or a simple wade in the beautiful cool water would be sufficient.”
https://nomoreroominhellwhen.blogspot.com/
Thursday, May 29, 2014

Rosicrucianism is a philosophical secret society said to have been founded in late medieval Germany by Christian Rosenkreuz. It holds a doctrine or theology “built on esoteric truths of the ancient past”, which “concealed from the average man, provide insight into nature, the physical universe and the spiritual realm.” Rosicrucianism is symbolized by the Rosy Cross or Rose Cross.
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2016/04/27/bloodlust/
April 27, 2016

What began as a summer retreat, to a colonial landmark, became the site of a viciously nasty war, “The Battle of Germantown.’ Many have wondered if this was an accident in history.
When I went to the public library, the records were partly vague. I’ve discovered that hermits tend not to keep copious records if any at all. I’ve successfully been able to dig up third and second hand accounts coupled with a few generations of opaque comments and opinions on the legend by nearby residents and family members.
Kelpius was reportedly born in or about 1667 in Europe. His home town is currently known as ‘Sighisoara, Romania’ – where religious infighting fueled a protestant reformation. It was a devastating rift in European civilization.
“We killed 23,884 Turks without counting those whom we burned in homes or the Turks whose heads were cut by our soldiers. I have killed peasants, men and women, old and young.”
Dracul’s eldest son and heir, was blinded and buried alive at Târgovi.
‘Vlad Teppes’ victories offer some of the Moorish Villages allowance for momentary relaxation and other physical and mind resting indulgences. A descendent of ‘Attila the Hun,’ Vlad Teppes lost his humanity to false rumors and self-destruction. Vlad held many women in his arms and teeth. His blood lust was only surpassed by the lust within his loins.
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/10399789-bloodlust
April 28, 2016

~ ‘The Brotherhood’ ~

Chaunea and I took a near drunken walk down Broadway…
“We knew we were all doomed…all of us who knew.”
The door slammed against the papered wall as the fasteners within the wood splintered away from the wall that made every effort to hold. The abrupt action allowed the ingress of the horde to descend upon them, subduing them and separating them…forever.
The sexual fluids dripped all over the satin sheets as the ruffians ripped and pulled them apart. The burley men lifted the terrified Anne right up in a partially wrapped bed sheet, throwing her unclothed, down the stairs into the waiting arms of more darkly clad ruffians.
The kidnapping of Annie Crook was intent to capture her and Baby Alice. The marriage and the baby posed a direct threat to the bloodline of Queen Victoria.
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/10399790-the-brotherhood
April 28, 2016

Before William Penn and the Mayflower, the Native Americans lived on the land now known as the United States of America. Here in the northwest, the Philadelphia-Germantown area is where the Quakers settled to farm and establish businesses. They were mostly of German descent, hence the name Germantown.
“This “College of Invisibles,” the idea of such an order, exemplified by the network of astronomers, professors, mathematicians, and natural philosophers in 16th-century Europe promoted by such men as Johannes Kepler, Georg Joachim Rheticus, John Dee and Tycho Brahe, gave rise to the Invisible College. This was the precursor to the Royal Society founded in 1660.”
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/bloodlust
May 1, 2016

“I was there when Captain Willis Samuel and National Forestry Service Ranger Commander Gerald Glenn confronted and eradicated the monster beast in the park. I didn’t like Glenn very much, although I admired him. He was damn good at what he did. It was his woman that I liked…loved and wanted.”
http://hbcu.com/content/350316/bloodlust
August 26th 2019

“Now…More Than One Million Readers…and counting!”
http://hbcu.com/content/393865/more-than-you-d-might-imagine

~”The Unretirement Rate of Retirees In America”~

/*

“Higher rent, higher food prices and longer lifespans often lead to financial challenges for many Americans, leading to post-retirement job searches. More people have returned to work after retirement, with a steady uptick happening over the last few months!”

NBC’s Digital Report on “Money is Running Out’: Financial Stress Drives Retirees Back To Work”
By
Jean Lee, NBC Universal
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/money…

“The Unretirement Rate of Retirees In America”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
http://hbcu.com/content/376865/the-unretir…

Message from John-MCOA/SCSEP:

“Good morning Ms. Lee. Were you able to get in contact with Mr Boulware?”

“Thanks so much, John! I was able to get in contact with Mr. Boulware, who was extraordinary!”
Jean,
NBC Universal / Digital

(The Story…with a bit of hyperbole…and a little feedback too).

After more than a decade in retirement, Gregory Boulware went back to work in 2020.

Boulware, 69, was a truck driver for about 30 years, spending long hours on the road, away from his Pennsylvania home and his wife and kids, to make a living and put away some savings. His body started to suffer the consequences of years on the road, and he began to worry that the continuous back pain and aches would worsen. So he went back to school and got his associate’s degree in management and information technology in 2007 but could only find temporary work. He retired in 2008.

(I’ve spent more than thirty years, as a straight truck operator, tractor trailer operator, and bus driver; Earned an ‘Associate Degree in Specialized Business and Computer Science in 2004; My Trucking Routes were New York, New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania).

In retirement, he started writing books, “which make no money,” he said with a laugh, but he had retirement savings, started collecting Social Security at 59, and had a plan. But then he and his wife bought a house.

(This retirement occurred in 2003, from The Transportation Industry; began writing in 2007, with my first publication via “Ezine Articles”).

Image: Greg Boulware
(studying at “The Berean College of Business Sciences and Technology in Philadelphia PA 2003)
Greg Boulware, Courtesy Greg Boulware

“When we lived in an apartment, we were doing fine because we could easily afford it, but every year the rent would go up,” Boulware said. “I woke up one day and said, ‘You know, these people can tell us to leave, and the next hour, we would have nowhere to go.'”

(The apartment life occurred after the “Empty Nest Syndrome,” when our children became adults and left home…downsizing was the plan).

The (new) house bought with their life’s savings led to fear of losing the house, every mortgage payment a challenge, sometimes pulling from other expenses such as food and gas to make ends meet. Boulware decided he needed to go back to work. He enrolled in a job training program for low-income adults through the Senior Community Service Employment Program (SCSEP), a community service and work based training program for older workers authorized by the Older Americans Act, and was hired last month into a clerical job…”Assistant Program Director!”

“Assistant Program Director,” working with Mr. John Gonzalez, who is the “Program Director” for SCSEP/MCOA:
“Senior Community Service Employment Program” via Philadelphia’s Division of
“The Mayor’s Commission On Aging.”

“Retirement doesn’t mean what it used to,” said Nora Dowd Eisenhower, Executive Director at the Philadelphia Mayor’s Commission on Aging.

There is more to Ms. Lee’s article. It can be read via the posted links
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/money…

…In Peace, “Shalom”

“G”

Related Reference Data:

“Another Report on AGE DISCRIMINATION”
http://anotherreportonagediscrimination.bl…

“A Prelude to Management and Computer Science”
http://apreludetomanagementandcomputerscie…

“The Victory Dance for the Over Fifty Plus”
http://victorydanceoverfifty.blogspot.com/

“LEGAL EMPLOYMENT DISCRIMINATION”
http://legalemploymentdiscrimination.blogs…

“Economic Blues – The Beat Goes On”
http://economicbluesthebeatgoeson.blogspot…

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

‘Blogger’
https://www.blogger.com/profile/1091094619…

‘HBCU’
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

‘Amazon’
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/…

‘Twitter’
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG

“Academia”
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVB…

‘Ezine Articles’
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Grego…

~ “Genailia” ~

~ “Genailia” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq., ‘The Elder’
http://hbcu.com/content/372994/genailia

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

From the Saga of “Fairmount,” Terror In The Park
https://boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html

The Series:
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/

The Book:
https://www.amazon.com/Fairmount-Mr-Gregory-V-Boulware/dp/1491086270/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=
https://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0%20

Genailia and Gerald were quite adept at separating their private life from that of their professional obligations. No one other than they were aware of the dedicated – loving relationship. They loved each other deeply. They’ve enjoyed as much private time together as professional duties would allow. They both agreed to staunchly command their careers until the day of settling down arrived. Family life…so much desired while being so much denied. The need to protect innocents was a driving desire…a first and foremost desire – a personal demand.

They met while Genailia was teaching classes and endeavoring research projects at her alma mater and several Canadian locations. Her younger brother, Nathan Instance Francis, Jr., 18 years of age and student at Penn State University, Ogontz campus in Abington Pa, was away from home and school for the holidays. He was enjoying a bit of R and R with his schoolmates. The Christmas and New Years holidays offered a getaway and comradery. The Pocono Mountain hideaway and resorts were irresistible to the young gent. He promised to be home for the New Year festivities with his Big Sis.

After his visit with Willice, Gerald exited the Mount Airy home enroute to the Francis family home in Germantown. Visions of loveliness blanketed his thoughts of lovemaking with Genailia. Her beautiful face with twinkling eyes atop the loving fullness of her luscious lips together formed the perfect inviting smile. The voluptuous breasts and model-like figure, the long and shapely golden colored legs, wistfully but attentively blessed the ground of her traverse, virtually blinded his long desired journey to a night of pleasurable ecstasy.

The Wayne Avenue near Upsal Street door flew open…a lover’s embrace and kiss erupted. The two at or around ten or eleven before midnight enjoyed the evening – late night repast. A bottle of red wine, Sangiovese, and pasta was devoured. More lovemaking through the night and again upon waking in the early morn.

Only the annoying ring of the telephone disrupted the wondrous and ecstatic interlude. It was not Genailia’s device…it was the communication device of the ranger.
“I thought I’d turned that damned thing off!”
Realizing they were still involved in the midst of a crisis, he remembered his emergency telephone – separate from his general use phone… He answered while propped on his right elbow, which pressed into the pillow.
“We’re on our way.” The ranger wondered if he should have answered with “we?”

Ranger Glenn arrived at the zoo at approximately 11:35 P.M. His team got there 5 minutes later. Genailia popped open her investigator’s kit and began taking samples and scrapings of scratches on the bars, ground, and walls of the bruin exhibit. Glenn and lieutenant Wells headed to the 34th Street side of the zoo. After examining the tracks in the snow, they followed the trail from the broken gate to the east side of the street. The trail ended at the curb. Wells ran to that side of the street. Signs pointed to a trail down the embankment outside of the pavement. In the dirt, trees, shrubbery, and mud that headed down towards the I-76 Expressway, there where more prints and signs that the animals who tracked through the area were heading towards the river. Asa Wells motioned to Gerald Glenn to come and see what he’d found. The ranger jogged across the street to where Wells was standing. Wells pointed at the shrubbery, broken limbs, marks on the tree, and the bear tracks in the mud and snow. Several paw prints lead down the hill into the expressway corridor while many others aimed in other directions. The rangers were able to tell the difference in the size and species of the escaped bruins.

Many of the tracks were those of fully-grown bears. The two sets of tracks that pointed towards the railroad overpass proved to be of high interest to the men. They were two sets of tiny paw prints.

The two young bear cubs, one female and the other male, were found under the train trestle. They were huddled together under the bridge attempting to elude their hunting enemies. They appeared to be cold and frightened. The rangers approached the twins with stealth and caution. They didn’t want to take a chance at scaring the cubs into bolting. The rangers moved slowly with a reassuring posture. The cubs watched them intently but didn’t run. They allowed the rangers to approach and touch them. The human contact was not threatening to the cubs. They had experienced human contact before. The handlers at the zoo were they’re first human contact. The rangers also knew if the cubs felt threatened and cornered, they would attack with the natural intent of defending themselves. The claws of a young cub are capable of leaving a nasty wound in flesh and their bite can be equally vicious.

34th Street was cordoned off as well as the surrounding area of the west Philly neighborhood. On Girard Avenue from 33rd Street to 40th Street and Girard on 34th Street to Spring Garden Street. The two men crossed 34th street back to the zoo campus, each cradling a bear cub in their arms. Once safe lodgings were set for the twin babies, the hunt was on for the other fourteen escaped bears. The ranger ordered photographs of every inch the campus especially the damaged cages and trespassed areas – from the zoo trails and broken fences and gates. A zoo official and bruin handler was standing near the broken fence on the 34th street side of the campus. He approached with an obvious demeanor of anger. “What in the hell are you idiots trying to pull?” Other zoo reps looked at each other in confusion and replied, “What do you mean, sir?” Glenn interjected, “You know…you people really know how to piss me off! First you go up to the top of the world and fuck with the animals up there, causing them to do shit they don’t normally do! Then you stick them with all kinds of shit that only God knows what – and now you got two kidnapped cubs in your zoo! Where is the record of their adoption and housing? How’d they get here in the first place – why the secret of their being here? And now you’ve got fourteen fuckin bears wandering through the park and the Goddamn city!”

The police captains glared at each other while standing in place like pillars of salt. The commissioners nodded at one another upon departure from the meeting room. The ranger, Genailia, and Vernon were already descending the stairway from the top floor. They had no time to wait for elevators. Glenn was anxiously screaming orders to his pre-assembled team by way of two-way radio. He kept the unit on his holster attached to his belt, next to his cell phone. Genailia was anxiously giving directions to her staff via cell phone. Her administrative and investigative staff was centered and housed in the old “Germantown Hall” located at Germantown Avenue and Haines Street in the Germantown area of Philly. The 14th District was right next-door – it used to be housed within the Town Hall structure until they became separated with the construction of the new and modernized building. The command center of Captain Samuel!

“While I was in Alaska, there was talk of a group of foreign speaking men. The locals referred to them, as German or Russian sounding…could’ve been Yugoslavian – I don’t know. These individuals got off a bus – a Greyhound or Trailways or something…a caravan of about fifteen or more trucks – the tractor-trailer type – and vans came barreling down the highway. They were all painted black. They stopped and picked up these foreign guys. The foreign guys, about six of em…looked like professors of some sort.” The ranger stood and walked around the table to which his entourage sat. He positioned himself in the center of the room. He stood atop the Mayoral Municipal Sigla for the City of Philadelphia. Glenn faced the mayor sitting with the commissioners and zookeepers seated on the right…Genailia and Vernon, to the left. “This black vehicle caravan disappeared in the region beyond Kodiak Island. It’s been said, they’ve never been seen since.” The mayor asked, “How long has it been since this group is suspected of supposedly not being seen by the locals?” “This sighting occurred about three years ago,” said the ranger. Gerald stood erect and strong in his appearance. His muscular frame was in a relaxed stasis as his gaze bemused, swept the people in attendance. Glenn continued explaining what the locals of Kodiak and Aniak, Alaska, told him. He stood in an august fashion. The attention of the audience was completely his to enlighten. With further consternation, the ranger apprised them of his investigation of factual implications.

“These so-called professionals,” he stated, “were brought to that location to perform experiments on the animals of that region.” What type of experiments were not known, thought Glenn. The ranger continued speaking. He spoke of several hunter-trappers who were included in this party of clandestine black vehicle trekkers. Their equipment, mainly bear traps were being off-loaded from the trucks. Teams of hunters fanned out throughout the area encircling Kodiak Island, according to the locals. “Now if I saw what these guys were doing…was I supposed to doubt the word of the local inhabitants?” The ranger thought out loud, “It takes about a couple of years for a bear cub to start maturing – can you imagine what kind of things mad-scientists could do to change things on the planet?”

“If they are working for the government or some secretive DNA sadist group, what would they be doing to the bears and their cubs? I’ve seen one of their teams at a secluded and highly dense area on Kodiak Island, bring a full- grown Kodiak bear into one of the metal buildings. The bear appeared to be sedated while lying in the larger than usual steel cage. The cage was atop a large open bed black colored truck with an attached crane on the backend. They have three maybe four single floored metal fabricated structures in their camp. I believe they are laboratories,” said Glenn. “What in the hell were they going to do with that bear?”

The bear in the park is a monster. I suspect that it is also a product of the surreptitious people within that encampment,” exclaimed the ranger. The ranger vehemently expressed his belief. “I believe that this bear is an experiment that has gone wrong…because it has escaped and is now here with us – eating, living, and hunting.”

She was dressed in a pastel color of lime green…a pants suit and white blouse with white patent leather pumps on her feet. Modest looping ivory earrings draped her ear lobes. Her flaming shoulder length red hair was nicely arranged. The meeting attendees – Police Commissioner Tanex, Lieutenant Commissioner Talis, Fairmount Park Commissioner Blake were adorned in business suits of brown to navy blue suits, shirts of white and color coordinated ties. The police commanders dressed in the formal uniforms indicating their respective rankings. The meeting was held at the mayor’s office on the 7th floor of city hall. The meeting time was set for 10:A.M. The ranger not yet appeared. The group was becoming noticeably agitated.

10:22 A.M. arrived when the striking 6ft.1’, square jawed, raven-black curly and flowing manned, well muscled man of about 230 lbs swaggered into the room. Ranger Glen was accompanied by the beautiful olive brown complected, slender framed, crowned with waste length silky brown hair, thirty-ish Professor Genailia Francis. She wore very little makeup…not that she needed any…a natural beauty indeed. She was dressed in a modest maroon colored business suit with a squirt that was gifted by a pair of long well shaped legs and beautifully tapered ankles that settled into a pair of comfortable black open-toed shoes. Professor Vernon Rockford, a stocky but stout healthy looking elderly gentleman in nicely fitted eyeglasses that portrayed intelligent eyes, dressed in an outdated brown pin-stripped suit with a greenish spotted tie, atop a yellowish shirt and ending ensemble of brown wing-tipped loafers covering his feet, brought up the rear of the trio.

The three, two unexpected, professionals approached the table that faced the podium of the mayor’s audience chamber. The table was backed by several chairs, which the trio pulled and sat upon after they rested briefcases and several manila envelopes. They offered no apologies for arriving late to the meeting. Ranger Glenn made it very clear that he had lost his patience for the mayor’s party and the mismanagement of the situation at hand. He began to explain his investigative research trip to Alaska, Canada, and New York as well as speculative opinions of wildlife experts, game wardens, and other rangers regarding the recent attacks within the city’s parkland.

Genailia made several attempt…pleas to the commissioners, as well as Mayor Finkles, to not inform the community at large of rogue animal behavior – or the possibility of a wild animal being on the loose. She wished to spare the public of wide spread panic. She knew the people had to know of the impending danger, but she had to do her best to take control of the sensitive situation at hand.
“Madam Mayor,” she said via cell-phone, “I need not remind you of the disastrous fallout that will occur if people knew the details of this situation.”
“Yes Professor, I know,” The mayor replied. “The damnably adept and highly skilled mole of a reporter, somehow, once again, has thwarted our secure information exchanges.”

Dr. Francis was not aware of her stalker. Oh yes, dear sweet sexy, and voluptuous Genailia was totally unaware. The good doctor, as resourceful as she is…was not aware that she was being examined and photographed. The last time she experienced such a thing was way back when Irma Winks, a Black woman, and Nathan Francis, a white man, were killed in a terrible automobile accident when their car was broad sided by a ‘Black Stallion Semi.” The driver was a twenty-year old rookie. He had little experience on the road behind the wheel of a tractor-trailer.

The Francis’ were on their way hone from a three-day vacation in the Pocono Mountains. They were headed home to Germantown. Mrs. Irma Francis, a schoolteacher in the Philadelphia School System, was a graduate of Temple University. She was an English major who graduated Summa Cum Laude of her class. Mr. Nathan Instance Francis, a computer software and systems analyst, was born in Worchester, England. His parents moved to Belgium when he was ten. He graduated from Manchester Hall, Oxford University as a mathematician. He began studying computers at Harvard when he was twenty-three. The young couple met at a teacher’s conference in Washington, D. C. They were inseparable ever since. They married and Genailia was born soon after. Nathan Instance Francis, Jr., followed five years after her. He was now her responsibility. Their parents never saw Nathan junior graduate high school. He was in his twelfth year when they passed away. However, they did see Genailia attend the Berean Institute College of Business and Technological Sciences after her high school graduation from Roxborough High. She achieved her baccalaureate, masters, and P. H. D. BY way of Pierce, College, Penn State University, and Philadelphia University in Business Management, Veterinarian Sciences, and Anthropology. The parents were beyond proud.

In her role as Lieutenant Game Warden and Deputy Commissioner of Parks and Forestry, Genailia knew a great deal about animals and their various behaviors and habitats. She knew there is a monster butcher running amok in the Fairmount Park. And she had to find and remove it. But, she didn’t know that she was being hunted as well. The wreck of her parent’s car was always under suspicion…in her mind. Dr. Francis knew of the reported circumstances. She was told how her parents had stopped in a truck stop on the road between Philly and Stroudsburg for a bite to eat. It was also reported that Mr. Francis became engaged in a physical confrontation in that particular establishment. It was also known the truck stop was a notorious hang out for violent hill folk and rogue rednecks. The place was a highly charged and racially divided hangout for K. K. K. members. It was also said that Mr. was indeed defending his wife from a white man’s advances. The man did grab the ass of Mrs. Francis when the attempted to exit the restaurant and bar. A fight broke out between Nathan Sr. and three burly white guys. The proprietor broke up the fight and the couple was allowed to continue on their way.

Some of the local folk talked about how it was no coincidence when young Orinthal was given the keys to the big rig. They spoke of how the rednecks jeered and snarled over the nigger-lover and his big assed nigger-woman. It was said, “They won’t get far!” by a couple of the ruffians. Especially the biggest one, who got his ass kicked and handed to him by the senior Francis. Orinthal was a rookie truck driver who had just barely, for the third time, passed the Commercial Drivers Test for a class ‘B’ CDL. A class ‘A’ was required for semi operations. The roads were rain soaked with light drizzle and a warm air mass, for late October. The couple decided on the scenic route home. The route took them down rte.309. Then, twenty-five miles outside of Stroudsburg, Pa., the car was broadsided by the massive fuel tanker operated by Orinthal Richmond. The Francis’ car traveled south on rte.309 as it crossed Old Mill Creek Road. The car had a solid green traffic light while the truck faced one of red. The young and inexperienced driver did make an attempt to stop the killing machine as it careened down the blind curved hill. His efforts were of little consequence. He wasn’t trained of licensed to operate the very large and powerful Peterbuilt machine carrying a one third capacity filled fuel transporter weighing over twenty tons. He didn’t know he had to descend the hill while downshifting the gears to its lowest ratio in order to properly stop the thing. He didn’t know about the trolley locks that would automatically assist in the trailer’s brake locking process for emergency stopping. Nor did he know about the area called a ‘rumple zone’ for run-away trucks in times of emergencies. He should have – with the class ‘B’ license.

He did know, however, the trucks’ owner promised a job to him. Part of the promise was to help him acquire the class ‘A’ license. All he had to do was prove he could handle the equipment. Like a dog playing fetch, he jumped at the chance. His first assignment was to beat the silver-blue Mercedes across the light via the short cut down the Old Orchard Hill, which leads into Old Mill Creek Road.
“Can you do that job, boy?” barked the trucks owner.
Orinthal was eager and willing to drive that beauty of a truck at any given chance. Brice McCallister knew full well that Orinthal was not of full faculties. He knew the young man had no business with any type of commercial license. He could manipulate the mentally challenged man. He’s done it many times before. Orinthal would do anything to drive that truck – any time, anywhere. McCallister knew the ramifications of the possibility of losing his truck. After all, he had financial obligations regarding that truck. A debt he was trying to get out of. – that he wanted to go away. When Orinthal wrecks his truck, which would be stolen by the driver occupying drivers’ seat, he would simply walk away with no obligations. He would simply say his truck was operated without authority.
“The kid has been ridin me for a long time now. He was caught in my fuckin trucks before…ya know? – We kicked his ass out and he kept comin back!” McCallister was also the one who got his ass kicked – it was a big time ass whoppin – he was embarrassed big time. He wanted to make that indiscretion right. The Englishman blacked his eye for grabbing the ass of his wife when he attempted to kiss her. Orinthal died in the fire and explosion. No investigation was ever launched despite the cries family, friends, and colleagues of the Francis family. The conclusion to inquiries continued to report how the initial report read:
“The boy stole the truck and lost control, consequentially killing the couple, himself, and destroying the truck and car.”
“It’s an open and shut case,” said the authorities.

Genailia was haunted by this information…and its manipulation.

The secret admirer had no idea of Genailia’s physical defense capabilities. He would be in for a rude and deadly awakening should he attack her.

~End~

Reference / Ackowledgment(s):

Image of “Unkown Young Woman,” courtesy of ‘PinteRest.com’

“Ranger”
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2021/06/25/ranger/
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/content/367444/ranger

“Fairmount” Terror In The Park
https://boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/
https://www.amazon.com/Fairmount-Mr-Gregory-V-Boulware/dp/1491086270/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=
https://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0%20

“Willice”
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/
https://ezinearticles.com/?Willice-Samuel&id=10437340
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/content/364015/willice

“Between The Growl, The Roar, and The Bite!”
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blog/list?user=1ynz46rtdpg4f

~ “Valley Green’s Elusive Black Bear” ~
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/valley-green-s-elusive-black-bear

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

*/

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~ “Ranger” ~

~ “Ranger” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/content/367444/ranger https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2021/06/25/ranger/

The legacy of Juneteenth is not just one of celebration and freedom. Juneteenth also recognizes a legacy of the U.S. government’s broken promises and dereliction of duty to Black people. This legacy rarely ever punished police for the many murders of Black people. We see it in systems of white supremacy which continue to deny Black people equal housing, equal employment, equal health care, equal education, and so much more. Would there be more ‘Lynchings, Black-Body-Burnings, and Shootings if not for today’s technology and the ownership of millions, if not trillions of ‘Cell-Phone-Owners and Users’ World-Wide, capturing these evil-doings by so many “Evil-Doers?” Even with these ‘IT’ abilities, accountability is a very highly elusive exercise; if not many individuals who happen to be white would most certainly be prosecuted and convicted. However, there was one case were a Black Man was able to avoid prosecution by law enforcement. This individual happened to also be a high ranking Philadelphia Cop who was caught on cell-phone-video striking and knocking to the ground, a ‘Latino Woman.’ He said she threw something at him and hit him in the face. The video showed a different story.

George Perry Floyd Jr. (October 14, 1973 – May 25, 2020) was an African American man murdered by a police officer during an arrest after a store clerk suspected he may have used a counterfeit $20 bill in Minneapolis. Black people have faced rampant and often violent voter suppression ever since we were “freed” and given the right to vote. Yet Senate Republicans keep gaslighting us by claiming that since Black voter turnout was high in 2020, that since brilliant, innovative organizers were able to help communities overcome barriers to voting, that those barriers don’t exist.

As contemporary Native American religious flowerings are best understood by first examining the origins of Native American Spirituality, all of the contemporary sects are best comprehended in light of the traditional religions. As these differ from their New Age and Christian versions, each group is also unique compared to other traditional sects. These traditional sects are best understood as a conglomerate by investigating a few individual traditional Native American religions.

The only lynching to occur in Delaware happened in Wilmington in 1903. Normally when you think of lynching you think of hanging but the definition of the word is an illegal execution carried out by a mob, often by hanging, but also by burning at the stake or shooting. The term lynching probably derived from the name Charles Lynch (1736-96), a justice of the peace who administered rough justice in Virginia. But none of those fine nuances probably went thru George F. White’s head the night he was roped and bounded and thrown into a fire to burn to death.

Community members are outraged after a high school team experienced blatant racism during a championship game Saturday. The game took place between Orange Glen High School and Coronado High School in California. After the game, which Coronado won, Orange Glen Head Coach Chris Featherly said Coronado Head Coach J.D. Laaperi made disrespectful remarks toward both him and his players, but that’s not all. Coronado supporters took the sports rivalry to another level when they threw tortillas at Orange Glen players, who are mostly Latino, The San Diego Union-Tribune reported.

“Given the history of racism and consistent racist acts school members have committed in sports, advocates believe if the behavior is not punished, it will continue.”

Native American Tribes did not call their medicine people “Shamans.” This is a New Age term often misapplied to Native American Spiritual Leaders by people of European descent, self-professed “medicine” people and their followers. The medicine men and priests among the Indians were usually merely those men who thought more deeply and strenuously than the average men in the tribe.

Chief Gerald Glenn, the Medicine Man, was second only to the chief in importance and standing within his tribal group. His duties involved both religious interpretations and pharmacology. A good medicine man became adept at both and as a result, he was often thought of as one who possessed magical powers. Before William Penn’s holy experiment, human impact in the Pocono Mountains by Native Americans and European settlers was minimal.

The Pennsylvania Mountains was one of the last colonies to be settled in the northern region of the state. The region remained wilderness until pressure from European settlers caused and influx of Native Americans from Maryland and the Carolinas’. Glenn, a direct descendent of the Lenape Chieftain of the Penn and Lenape Peace Treaty, 1682, Chief Tammany who died in 1718, was his great-great-grandfather. His wife, a Huron Princess, reared sons who took over as Chief of Nations along the Delaware Water Gap. They lived in peace with the residents of Stroudsburg, founded by Jacob Stroud in 1799.

The villages of the mountains raised buckwheat and rye, a big crop with potatoes, maze, oats, cattle, sheep, and hogs. Chief of his village as well as Chief of the Northeastern regional Forestry and Parks Services, Ranger Captain Glenn; like his people, are also members of the Northwestern Indian Confederacy in the Mountains of Pennsylvania, New York, and Canada. The tribal members are The Cree, The Creek, The Ottawa, The Seminole, The Huron, The Cherokee, The Algonquian, The Ojibwa, The Shawnee, and The Lenape Nations. Glenn continues his leadership in the protection of his people, their land, their tribal beliefs, and their heritage. Glenn’s mother was of Creek/Seminole descent while his father was the Tribal Chief of The Shawnee-Lenape (Munsee-Minisink) of Ontario Canada and the Poconos.

Glenn, a strikingly tall, slender, well muscled, powerful man of more than 6ft. in height, was requested by officials to assist the Philadelphia Fairmount Park Commission and its’ staff of Park Rangers, on a case to which he has the greatest expertise, big game and bears. There were rumors of an enormous beast roaming about. Several of the parks’ city rangers were tight-lipped about some of the strange things that have recently been discovered in the area. Expensive shrubbery and some of the exotic plants were destroyed along with missing wildlife as well. These happenings were occurring a few weeks before the North Philadelphia boys were attacked. On that day is when he and Captain Samuel Willis were first introduced. The introduction was one of an informal atmosphere. The day of their meeting began with that awful and unfortunate fatal attack in ‘Fairmount Park,’ atop the hill on “Strawberry Mansion Drive.”

Fear was the factor in their meeting atop that hill, that particular day. His was an expertise of rare quality. No one knew bears and wildlife the way he did. This ranger could tell what kind of animal, plant, or bug that ever left a trace of anything, anywhere. He was a natural for his job. He was one of a kind. He was…is the best of the best. Gerald Glenn was not a city boy, albeit his educational endeavors and early work environment began in the brick and mortar jungle of mayhem, danger, and deceit. When the opportunity arrived, and allowed him to work out in the “great-outdoors,” mostly in park-lands, fields, streams, lakes, rivers, and mountainous regions. He loved it.

Gerald didn’t study nature or the natural habitat in college. He was a natural. After all, he did grow up in the Pocono Mountain part of the state. His tenure in Alaska came about when another opportunity of animal complaint and an invitation to investigate crossed his career path. Bear attacks were not necessarily common-place in the Yukon, but they did occur. They were mostly caused by man-made carelessness. Learning to navigate and travel in those types of terrain were exactly what The Ranger craved. Some would say that he was anti-social. Gerald Glenn simply didn’t like the bullshit that man and his hypocritical way of life had to offer. Animals, according to the ranger, didn’t go around killing each other just for the sake of killing. They had purpose to their natural order of life. They only killed when they needed to eat or defend themselves. Man killed for the sport of it, hypocrisy, jealousy, and/or selfishness were the culprits…the children of Mammon.

Gerald Glenn, Genailia Francis, and Willice Samuel walked through the patch of rhododendron and azalea bushes to examine the grassy spot near the Strawberry Mansion Bridge. Ranger Glenn removed the sample of plant leaf and soil from a plastic bag while pointing to the spot he had examined during the initial search around the cherry blossom tree. Professor Vernon Rockford entered the hunt alongside the team a wee bit later. The paw-print, nearly gone after being exposed for more than ten days, gave Francis and Samuel a fright. Now the captain knew why the ranger had that strange look on his face the day the boys were attacked. “Damn, do they actually grow to be that big?” The ranger gave Willis a look, and answered, “You’d better know it! In the Yukon, they grow bigger than that!”

The regatta has been held annually on the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, since 1953. The Dad Vail Regatta is the largest regular intercollegiate rowing event in the United States, drawing over a hundred colleges and universities from North America. It was renamed the Aberdeen Dad Vail Regatta in 2010 for new sponsor Aberdeen Asset Management, a Scottish investment firm whose U.S. operations are headquartered in Center City Philadelphia. A regatta is a series of boat races. The term typically describes racing events of rowed or sailed water craft, although some powerboat race series are also called regattas. A regatta often includes social and promotional activities which surround the racing event, and except in the case of boat type (or “class”) championships, is usually named for the town or venue where the event takes place. Oh yes, this major event wasn’t exempt from this invasion of the monster bruins.

On that memorable day, Captain Willice Samuel; just before meeting his new life-long friend; stood looking over the edge of the cliff, peering down onto the East river Drive. The screaming sirens of emergency vehicles filled the normally quiet environment of park life. Speeding past the stopped traffic below, the EMR vehicles made their way up the hill to the spot where the kids were playing. The Strawberry Mansion Bridge was at a stand-still as was the East River Drive traffic. Nothing and no one was being allowed to move through the area. Traffic backed up all over. Ridge Avenue was being over-run with the over flow of rush hour traffic. Both river drives, East and West, were backed up in the East Falls area of Midvale Avenue into Henry Avenue. The downtown out bound traffic was a mess. The local news on automobile radios reported the traffic mess as an accident in the park.

Willice Samuel’s family arrived up North from Georgia by way of Winnsboro, South Carolina. The family settled in Coatesville Pennsylvania, in or about April 1911.

Willice’s Great-Great Grandfather talked about a lynching and burned at the stake murder of a Black Man by a mob of white men who wore masks. He said the Black Man; named Zachariah Walker was accused of shooting to death a white cop; named Edgar Rice. He was supposed to have been a special police officer in Coatesville.

He went on to say, “The Colored Man was chased and treed in the woods in or near the Robert Faddis Woods near Youngsburg. The Black Man tried to shoot himself in the head, but failed. They took the Black Man to the hospital were his injuries were treated. A gang of white men broke the window in the main hallway, corralled the police officer guarding him and dragged the Black Man from his sick bed to the Sarah Jane Newland Farm just to the right of the road and almost directly opposite the farmhouse. In a grass field about fifty feet from the road, they gathered dried Chestnut Rails and old fencing to build a fire. It took all of three minutes to get the fire up to a height of ten feet or more. They asked him if he had any last words…he didn’t. He was then thrown into the fire. The flames burned his clothes and seared his flesh – he managed to leap from the fire-pile and jump over a fence. They caught him and tied a rope around his neck and dragged him back onto the burning fire. Walker tried two more times to get out of the bonfire. He tried to get out of the seething furnace of hell. But he was beaten and pulled back on the burning pile with each try.”

Great-Great-Grandpa continued on with the graphic details. “The sickening smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Folks came from all around to see and take pictures of the burning Black Man. They laughed and drank liquor. Their children had fun too. This all happened on or around Saturday April 12, 1911…we packed and moved to Philadelphia.” The Willice’s are descendants of America’s lucrative Industry of Black Slavery.

Seventeen-year-old Helen S. Bishop (a white woman) was robbed, raped, and had her throat cut by someone. Helen Bishop was the daughter of Rev. Dr. Elwell and Clara Bishop. On June 15th, 1903 the police arrested George F. White an ex-convict and a Black man for the assault. On June 16th Helen Bishop died of her injuries, the coroner’s return of a death report put the cause of death as “ Shock Caused By Maltreatment.” George White was moved to the newly built workhouse in Price Corners. The public was inflamed over the girl death and demanded an immediate trial for George White.

The Sunday, June 21st, Sermon of the Reverend Robert A. Elwood (Wilmington Olivet Presbyterian Church) was a fiery one in which he showed blood-stained leaves from the site of Helen Bishop’s assault. He called for swift justice. Ellwood had came to Wilmington in 1899 and assumed the pastorate of the Olivet Presbyterian Church. He was known for his sensational methods in delivering sermons etc. at one time he was involved in charges of doing violence to church law but was acquitted on trial by the New Castle Presbytery.

Ellwood would say afterwards; “I am very sorry it happened as it did. I believe the man should have had a legal trial, but I also believe that he should have had a speedy trial. The lesson we can learn from last night’s outbreak is that people are tired of the delays of the law.”

On June 22nd at 10pm there was an attack by several thousand people on the New Castle County workhouse. This was at a time when Wilmington had about 11,000 people of which 70% was white. The police knew it was coming and reinforced the workhouse staff. They attempted to repel the attackers with water hoses and shooting over their heads. In the mob was 15 year old Peter Smith. He was hit in the back with a bullet and died on June 24th from the wound. He was the son of Michael and Fannie Smith.

The mob broke into the workhouse and took George White from his cell. They tied him up and took him back to the scene where Helen Bishop was killed. He gave a confession that he cut the throat of Helen Bishop. He was tied to a stake and a fire was started. He broke loose at least once when the fire had burnt the ropes on his legs and he was caught, beat, and thrown back in the fire. It was over with by 2 AM. The fire could be seen from the porch of Helen Bishop’s parents.

The next day thousands of people visited the scene of the lynching. Some sifted thru the ashes for relics ranging from bones to a foot to pieces of burnt wood. The coroner visited the scene and picked up the largest parts which was a small portion of the trunk and a couple of charred bones.

Most people involved started the excuse process the day after the lynching; Judges said they couldn’t have done a speedy trial. The Police said they couldn’t stop several thousand people from breaking into the work house. Everyone said the leaders of the Lynching were from out of state, not us. In general, Delaware said it was an unfortunate circumstance.

The mother of Helen Bishop, Clara, would die due to the shock of the event within the next couple of years.”

In another racial incident; community members are outraged after a high school team experienced blatant racism during a championship game Saturday. The game took place between Orange Glen High School and Coronado High School in California. After the game, which Coronado won, Orange Glen Head Coach Chris Featherly said Coronado Head Coach J.D. Laaperi made disrespectful remarks toward both him and his players, but that’s not all. Coronado supporters took the sports rivalry to another level when they threw tortillas at Orange Glen players, who are mostly Latino, The San Diego Union-Tribune reported.

Videos shared on social media depict at least two players from Coronado, a predominantly white school, throwing tortillas. According to The San Diego Union-Tribune, witnesses shared that there were several heated moments on and off the court during the game that preceded the tortilla incident. While the school board and school district discussed disciplinary action against the students involved in the tortilla throwing Tuesday, no action against them was taken The San Diego Union-Tribune reported. Instead, Laaperi, the head coach of the team that threw the tortillas was fired. Further comments on the incident, what action will be taken, and whether or not the incident will be deemed racist have not been made at this time. Members of the Orange Glen team, specifically the Latino players, were extremely disturbed, Orange Glen Assistant Coach Lizardo Reynoso told CBS San Diego. “They understand that there’s a lot of racism and hate going on today, but to top that off with a defeat after working so hard all year, it’s like a slap in the face,” Reynoso said.

The school district has since apologized, but that doesn’t make the experience any better for the students and those who attended the game. “The Trustees of the Coronado Unified School District acknowledge these acts to be egregious, demeaning and disrespectful,” the district said in a letter to Orange Glen Monday. The letter continued by noting that the trustees condemned “the racism, classism and colorism which fueled the actions of the perpetrators.”

The California Interscholastic Federation (CIF) also issued a statement noting that it would work with both schools to address the matter and take the “appropriate next steps.”

The Escondido Union High School District where Orange Glen is located also said it has been in contact with the Coronado Unified School District regarding what actions will be taken against those involved. The school boards plan to meet Tuesday to discuss the matter.

“Unfortunately a community member brought tortillas and distributed them which was unacceptable and racist in nature,” Laaperi said on Twitter. “I do not condone this behavior. Coronado High School does not condone this behavior and is already taking appropriate action.”

According to the Coronado Police Department, which was called to help clear the gym after the game, a man was identified as the individual responsible for bringing the tortillas to the game. “We are extremely disturbed by the behavior of some of those attending last night’s basketball game. Their actions are completely unacceptable,” the department said in a statement. Investigations into the incident are ongoing. While the school district vowed to take action and apologized for the incident, not every member of Coronado’s team believed the incident was wrong. The Chicano Federation shared an Instagram post by a Coronado High School basketball account that claimed the tortilla toss is not racist but known as a tradition at other schools. The since-deleted post compared tossing tortillas at players to tossing confetti.

According to a statement by the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), this ideology is shared by members of the Coronado Parent-Teacher-Organization (PTO) Facebook who claimed that “throwing tortillas is like heaving ‘Frisbees’ or ‘graduation caps’ into the air as a ‘celebratory action’.”

“Coronado supporters are trying to play the victim here saying the reaction to the tortilla tossing is ‘extremely upsetting’ to them. Try walking in the shoes of those struck by their projectiles,” the statement issued by LULAC National President Domingo Garcia continued. The incident comes as the third of its kind that has been condemned as racist in San Diego County high school sports. Last year racist photos of students were circulated, with some depicting players holding up gang signs. In 2019, another incident occurred in which students from the football team were taunted with racial slurs, The San Diego Union-Tribune reported.

“We should have universal condemnation of this activity,” Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez-Fletcher said on Twitter while sharing her own daughter’s experience of racism as a student-athlete. Parents in SD County know that racist taunts against latino athletes are too commonplace. It’s time to stop it.

“Teach your kids not to be racist,” she continued. “Tortillas are for eating, not throwing.” Gonzalez-Fletcher also called for CIF officials to strip the school of its championship.

Others shared similar sentiments, including the California Latino Legislative Caucus leadership, which issued a statement Monday noting that “there must be consequences … We call on CIF to take strong action to hold the responsible students and school accountable for these hateful, violating acts,” the statement said.

Given the history of racism and consistent racist acts school members have committed in sports, advocates believe if the behavior is not punished, it will continue.

“Action needs to be taken, and I think the action should be that Coronado should forfeit that game,” Social justice advocate Enrique Morones said. “These hate acts, they got to be called out. We cannot accept it. These are young people. They obviously have been influenced maybe by their parents or their friends, and we got to call it out.

“If people find out exactly what happened, I believe that the majority of the community will be against these types of actions,” Morones said.

Ranger Gerald Glenn had a felling that something was wrong in Philadelphia. Something was wrong with his friend…he made arrangements to get back to Philly. While packing, the telephone rang. It was ‘Elizabeth,’ Willices’ wife. Willice was in the hospital, he’d been shot. The Ranger packed with an overwhelming sense of urgency, his plane leaves in two hours. It would take more than a rush for he and Genailia to get packed and out to the airport just in time to make the flight.

While we celebrate the; federal government and President Joseph Biden’s; Declaration of Juneteenth as a National Holiday, we must not lose sight of the ongoing work of true liberation still happening to get Black people equal access to the ballot, protection from murderous law enforcement, affordable reproductive care, freedom from over policing and mass incarceration, and fair immigration policy, among so many other examples of systemic racism that plague our communities.

Don’t know about Juneteenth? Read up on it folks, ask someone if they knew about this unmentioned Black Holiday. There’s more to institutionalized, standardized American culture than meets the eye; get a bit closer to realizing America’s promises to enslaved Africans and their descendants.

Meanwhile, the adventure of “Fairmount” continues. Captain Samuel Willis, Ranger Gerald Glenn, and team have faced the number one killer in the City of Philadelphia has brought them unwanted noteriety in the wake of saving the city from a most dangerously horrible killing machine. What’s harboring hatred for the team as the Ranger rushes back to Philadelphia in hopes of providing aid to his dear friend. His friend who has been seriously injured by gunfire…this plague upon mankind and civilization, Guns and Racism…in the highest order. At what end will these two professional law-men find peace in their lives, what do the racist fanatics have in store for them? Will they be able to overcome the forces that hunt them – threatening their lives and the lives of the ones they hold near and dear?

Follow the “Chronicles of Fairmount,” Terror in the Park and The Willis Samuel Investigations.

Til Next Time…

~ “SANKOFA” ~

Acknowledgements/Credits:

George Perry Floyd Jr. (October 14, 1973 – May 25, 2020) was an African American man murdered by a police officer during an arrest after a store clerk suspected he may have used a counterfeit $20 bill in Minneapolis.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_George_Floyd

‘SHAMAN’
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=Shaman%2C+Gregory+V.+Boulware
Fairmount – “SHAMAN”…Fairmount Showing 1-3 of 3
http://www.goodreads.com › topic › show
Oct 25, 2013 · “SHAMAN” By Gregory V. Boulware /* The medicine men and priests among the Indians were usually merely those men who thought more deeply and strenuously than the average men in the tribe. These thinkers tended to live among the more successful tribes. To think, one needed at least some time free from the chore of procuring food.
“SHAMAN” | BoulwareEnterprises_”The World In Words”
boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com › 2013/10/25 › shaman

‘Howard’
The Northern Delaware Lynching of 1903
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=George+White%2C+1903%2C+Delaware+Lynching
Delmar Historical And Art Society
The society will bring together those people interested in history and art in the Delmar area Our Email address is delmarhas@yahoo.com
Sunday, June 7, 2015
The Northern Delaware Lynching of 1903

Irna Landrum, Daily Kos
Re: For Juneteenth Support Black-led organizations working toward liberation:
Yahoo
/
Inbox
Daily Kos campaigns@dailykos.com
To:
gvb1210me@yahoo.com

Mostly Latino high school basketball team taunted by audience throwing tortillas at players
By
Aysha Qamar
Daily Kos Staff
https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2021/6/22/2036489/-Tossing-tortillas-at-players-is-equivalent-to-tossing-confetti-California-high-school-team-says?detail=emailLL
Aysha Qamar
Wednesday, Jun 23, 2021 · 5:44:51 PM EDT ·
The San Diego Union-Tribune reported.

#Willis #Fairmount #Regatta #BlackHistory #Juneteenth #NativeAmerican #AmericanIndians #Africans #Lynchings #Latinex #Latinos #Latinas #Oppression #Racism #Hatred #HateCrimes #Law #AmericanHistory #BoulwareBooks #UncleBobbiesCoffeandBooks #Freedom #TheDailyKos #NorthernDelaware #SouthernDelaware #Delaware #Pennsylvania #Philadelphia #Boulware #SCSEP #MCOA #CCPedu #BereanInstitute #FairmountPark #Bears #HBCU #Bruins #Yukon #Alaska #Kodiak #Grizzly #BlackBear #BrownBear #WellRead #ArchitectsOfChange #TheWillisSamuelInvestigations #EzineAuthors #AboveTheLaw #The3rdEye #onWURD #UnsungAuthors #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #UnitedBlackLibrary #NAACP #CharlesBowser #Obama #MalcolmX #WEBDuBois #DrCornelWest #PaulRobeson #RevJessieJackson #RepJohnLewis #EddieGlaudeJr #DeanKoontz #DrKing #MartinLutherKing #Ghandi #NelsonMandela #Confucious #TheRevAl #JoyReid #AmJoy #MichaelCoard #MichaelX #DrCornelWest #DrLomax #SaraLomaxReese #IndependentBlackMedia #DelaBear #Bear #BlackTalkRadio #WalterPLomaxJr #WHYY #TalkRadio #AugustWilson #StephenKing #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #EdgarAllanPoe #RayBradbury #RichardWright #PaulLaurenceDunbar #JamesBaldwin #ChesterHines #AfricanDiaspora #ShortStories #BlackAuthors #BookEnds #UnitedBlackLibrary #BlackThen #ReadAloud #TheAmazonian #TheStoryTeller #ShortStory #AStoryTold #BlackStoryTellers #Nibbies #TheBritishBookIndustry #Anthology #Hallow #HallowII #AI #IndieBound #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #GTown #Robots #PhilaBear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #MadeForMinds #WilliamPeterBlatty #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #PhillyTrib #PhillyMag #PhillyTribune #PhillyMagDaily #PhillyNewsLetters #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #BBC #BBCNews #FreedomRiders #FreePress #WHYY #PBS #NPR #AP #TheDailyBeast #TheGuardian #TheHuffingtonPost #PhiladelphiaMagazineContent #MindTV #TheMedia #Metro #PoliticsNation #DW #DWNews #NowReadThis #Reddit #WellRead #ReadersGazette #eReader #NYNews #PhillyNews #FreePress #PaperLi #NJNews #MindTV #AboveTheLawMag

*/

~“My name is ‘Eduardo Tirilius Williams Hushmanzata”~

/*

“By The Light Of The Silvery Moon”

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/by-the-light-of-the-silvery-moon

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2020/10/16/my-name-is-eduardo-tirilius-williams-hushmanzata/

Epilogue:
Their mapping itinerary worked out quite well… The rain was dropping like stones in the bucket, wet, hard, and loud. The rental car leaked through what seemed like every orifice and crack. The heater/defroster didn’t work all that great either. However, they made it to their destination in one piece. The weather, they thought, was odd. It rained hard all the way out there from town. But when they arrived at the Keep, it stopped and seemed a bit warm with a great deal of fog. The fog rolled in thickly. They couldn’t drive the car up the muddy hill and didn’t dare attempt at driving over the dark field area for fear of getting stuck in the bogging moor.

 

~ ‘The Loch Of Satanus’ ~
The story was repeatedly told by demonologists with regard to ‘Lycanthropy.’ The increase in trials for witchcraft at the end of the sixteenth century led people to believe a man could actually become a lycanthrope or werewolf – “Loup Garu!”

 

A Protestant Physician, Casper Peucer, told of the full-blown conception of Witches’ going to a Sabbat, led to the assumption of parallel gatherings of Wolves.

Brother Joseph, a guide within the ‘Keep,‘ guided the rain-soaked couple: Eddie and Isabelle to another guide, the “Guardian Watcher, Brother Jerome.” He began to tell a tale to which they should be aware.

A Fox was one day talking to a wolf about the strength of Man. The wolf claimed the title for being stronger and smarter.
“No animals,” he said, “could withstand man and they were obliged to use cunning to hold their own against him.”
The wolf answered, “If ever I happened to see a man, I should attack him all the same.”
“Well, I can help you do that,” said the fox. “Come to me early tomorrow, and I will show you one.”

The wolf was early to rise and the fox took him out to a road in the forest, traversed daily by a huntsman. First an old discharged soldier came.
“Is that a man,” asked the wolf?
“No,” answered the fox. “He has been a man.”
After that, a little boy appeared on his way to school.
“Is that a man?”
“No, he is going to be a man.”

At last the huntsman made his appearance, his gun on his back, and his hunting-knife at his side. The fox said to the wolf – “Look! Here comes a man. You may attack him, but I will make off to my hole!”

The wolf set on the man, who said to himself when he saw him. “What a pity my gun isn’t loaded with a leaden-metal ball!” He fired a charge of black powder in the wolf’s face. The wolf made a wry face, but was not frightened, and attacked him again.
The huntsman gave the wolf a second charge. The beast swallowed the pain, and rushed at the huntsman again. This time he drew his bright and shiny but large hunting-knife, and slashed out to the left and to the right with it. The blade struck home and smeared itself with streaming red blood! The wolf ran back to the fox and said:
“Brother Fox, Brother Fox!”
…The fox turned to the wolf and asked, “How did you get on with the man?”
“Brother Fox. I’ll tell you this – I never thought the strength of man would be what is is. First, he took a stick from his shoulder and blew into it, and something flew into my face; which tickled frightfully. Then he blew into it again, and it flew into my eyes and nose like lightning and hail – then he drew a shiny rib out of his body, and struck at me with it until I was more dead than alive!”
The fox looked up at the wolf and asked, “Why are you clutching your haunches with both (paws) hands?”
Well Brother Fox, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit or make a discharge from my rectum again. I do believe that I will be dead momentarily. Not only did the shiny broad and sharp rib cut at me real good, I heard the man scream out:
“If I do not have at the ready, a black leaden-metal ball, I sure as hell have these silver ones. I then heard and saw the black powder explosion from the stick he carried. I turned to run but fell down when the shiny orb struck and pierced my behind. The pain that I felt was indescribable. It felt nothing like the orbs thrown at me before. They only itched after contact and caused me to scratch. But this one has caused me to bleed and feel pain – this pain along with the pain and bleeding caused by his big shiny and sharpened rib. I feel my strength and consciousness ebbing Brother Fox. I am dying while man is stronger than we…”

“Now you see,” said the fox, “what a braggart you are. You’ve thrown your toothy face out so far that you can’t get it back again.”

Eddie and Isabelle were left standing there, facing each other. They turned to question Brother Joseph. He was gone. Brother Jerome was no where to be seen as well.
The broad oaken door in front of them, slowly, very slowly opened along with the sound of an eerie blood curdling and groaning creek.

“Come in, enter and be seated my children.” The loud and strongly masterful commanding voice frightened them. Seated behind a large desk of wooden antiquity was the tall and sinister figure of Brother Jerome.

The sound of a howl and a loud strong bone-chilling growl emanated from the shadows and aided the two in hurrying into the quarters and presence of the Keeps’ (castle) number one occupant.

“You have no doubt been educated of our world perplexing dilemma and responsibility by the good Brothers, have you not?”

The uneasy travelers trembled slightly in his presence. “Yes Brother Jerome!”

“I can’t emphasize enough the gravest of dangers awaiting the world; have been securely suppressed and confined within the walls of this Keep. Recently the ‘Father’ of all evil escaped from imprisonment due to the interaction with an outsider. His invasive and damaging intervention allowed for such an atrocity to occur. We’ve warned him in every way possible…to no avail. We have pleaded with him while we aided in his healing! All we wanted him to do was leave us in peace…leave us in our world of solitude; our business! We entertained and enlightened him. How did he re-pay our indulgences and hospitable generosities? He did not take heed to our warnings! It was he who aided in the re-releasing of that horrible man-killing entity upon the vulnerable existence of mankind! The goodness of it all is his intrepid search and tracking of the beast. Along with the aid of sanctuary Brothers across the globe, we will soon have him back inside, with the ‘Grace and Will of GOD!
And now we have you two… Can you not wonder why we do not offer or accept hospitality or sanctuary from or to outsiders?”

Brother Jerome held their full attention. When Eduardo and Isabelle attempted to explain their reasons for the intrusion, the Holy-Many shrugged and waved for them to stop talking.
“I am fully aware of why you are here and how you have come upon us. So that we fully understand what it is you intend to do from this point forward, remains to be seen.
In order for us to properly protect you while you are here, we must provide you with as much pertinent information as heavenly possible. You will need to arm yourselves – prepare yourselves, should we fail to do so; no man-made weapons will defeat this evil. The only salvation is guidance from the ‘Most-High’ and his humble but vigilant disciples.”

Brother Jerome reached for a book high up on the highest of shelves in the northwest well of his office. The volume was old and dusty but firm and fully intact. The thickness of it readily suggested an abundance of recorded knowledge.
The Holy-Man sat back down behind his opulent oaken desk while motioning the travelers to do the same. He then fumbled about the inside of his robes and produced a small pair of reading spectacles. The brother proceeded in further espoused enlightenment. He leafed through a few pages before reading to them samples of the text therein:
It is said that once a lion planned to go live in another land. Then all the beasts held a convention. He told them all of his intention, and they ‘should select a king.'” He thought he’d not be back again. The beasts requested that he provide another lion. He answered that he had no heir. He had not raised one – he did not dare. Among themselves must be their guest to find the one who’d govern best. And thus it was they who chose the wolf, for no one else was bold enough to dare take anyone but he (even though all of them thought the wolf was a villain).
Yet, he assured them all, and swore he’d love them best forever. They went to the lion next and picked a clever beast, extremely fast and versatile, provided that his heart and will were as they ought to be – sincere.
But one thing caused the lion fear – that the wolf for counselor would pick the fox who knew well how to trick; both are insidious and base.
If from the wolf they wanted peace, on Holy relics, he must swear that he’d touch no beast anywhere and that forever he would not eat any meat, no matter what.
The wolf then most willingly swore to more than what was asked of him. But when he had been bound by oath, and whether lion set out, the wolf had a vicious craving for some meat. He made plans for deceitful purposes. He intended to get the beasts to all agree and give him leave accordingly.
The wolf then summoned a ‘Doe-Deer,’ and secretly questioned her. If for his love of truth, she would tell about wolf’s breath – how did it smell?
She said it smelled terrible, almost unbearable! The wolf was very angry then. He sent a summons to his men… He questioned all those who had come. He asked them what kind of sentence would be given when someone spoke such things to his Lord’s face, such words of shame, slur, and disgrace. Should this one die? They all attested. The wolf then had the deer arrested. While they all watched, he killed the deer and ate the better part of her. To help cover his crime, he proclaimed that he’d share portions of the kill, what remained, with them.

After his hunger pangs had ceased, he called for another beast. He questioned her in the same way as the first. How smelled his breath – what would she say? The poor thing would much rather lie than tell the truth for fear of suffering and death. So she replied that she would know of and smelled no scent. It was fragrant and very excellent.
The wolf summoned his cabinet and asked his barons, when they met, what punishment he should decree to one who would lie so deceitfully. They all judged that she must die. When they caught her, they brought her before the wolf. He killed her, tearing her limb-from-limb, and ate her all up…right in front of them.
Time passed. The wolf observed a monkey. He was fat and quite well fed. Oh how he had coveted that monkey. He desperately wanted to eat him, to devour him.
One day, the wolf went to him. He inquired about his breath – did it stink or smell quite sweet – “what do you think?”
The monkey was extremely sly. He was in no way intending to die. So he replied that he didn’t know. The wolf didn’t know what to do. The monkey could not be condemned because no intended harm was done.
The wolf went to bed feigning illness. He complained to all the beasts. He thought he would never get well. They all came in turn, paying him a call. They sent out for doctors so that they may know if he’d be well again. The doctors were all at a loss to know. None of them found or saw a thing wrong nor could they find a cause. There was no injury to cause such a mood. If only he would desire some food!
“I have desired food, good doctors. I have entertained no other wish for some time now. I have had no other wish except to eat some monkey flesh. Of course you know of My Oath, where I loath to touch another beast unless I can justify it very well; my barons could ratify it!”

They all gathered together and gave this view:
“That is what he must do. There is no cure for what ails his heart’s desire, No cure.”
Their remedies could not be sure. When the Wolf-King heard of what they advocated, he seized the monkey, killed him, and ate him. On all in turn, one-by-one, sentence was passed:
His oath to none of them was fast or sure.
Thus, by the the wise man, we are taught that we, no matter what, must not ever make a wicked man ‘Seignior,’ nor show such a one honor.
His loyalty is as much a pretense with strangers as it is with his close friends. And toward his people he will, at as did the wolf, with his sworn pact.

Brother Jerome closed the book and stared at the man and woman, of what seemed like a long moment in time.

 

“They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man… But where does one begin and the other end?”

 

Isabelle and Eduardo looked at one another and then back at Brother Jerome in bewilderment. They had no answer to give.
Brother Jerome smiled and rose to his feet. He walked over to the bookshelf and returned the big book to its proper place. Breaking the silence, he asked, “Why is it, the so-called educated, do not have or acquire the good sense of knowing better?”

Brother Jerome walked over to the only window in his office and peered up at the brightly shinning full moon. It provided a brilliant light against the blackened night-time sky. It cast a broad spectrum of white, silver, and gray light over all that was touched by its glow. He mentioned for the pair to come over and join his gaze.
Once they arrived, he pointed to a field of shrubbery. It appeared like a field of black foliage in the night. The brother explained to them in the day light, the plants are a brilliant green with small and vividly white blossoms when bloomed. They only bloom in the light of the full moon! The puzzled man and woman looked at one another with frightful bewilderment and astonishment. Somehow, the explanation had contained…a familiar ring to it; an eerie memory. They then heard a growl. It was an intensely loud growl and not too far away. It, the growl, was followed by a ferociously sinister howl-like that of a wolf.
Shaken with fright and ice-cold fear, they turned to see Brother Jerome standing behind them, clutching his walking-staff very tightly. He stared at them intently and began to speak – almost trance-like…

 

“Even a man, who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night; may become a wolf when the ‘Wolf-Bane’ blooms and the Autumn Moon is bright!”

 

“You cannot leave here tonight, even though we do not want you.”

Eddie questioned his statement and the meaning of why they couldn’t leave. The brother took him aside so that Isabelle could not hear his words. “Eduardo, you and your companion cannot leave because she bears the mark of death… ‘The Five Pointed Pentagram’ lies upon the right palm of her hand!”

“Bullshit Mr. Holy Man!” Isabelle could clearly see that whatever the Holy Man said to Eddie, surely shook him up – and she knew the conversation was about her as well. “She hasn’t got a mark on her! She only felt a little sick and feverish because we were caught out in the elements tonight. What damned mark of death? Man, you all must be crazy or high on something in here – you’re all full of shit! We’ve got enough for our research and story. Come on ‘Izzy,’ we’re getting the hell out of this looney bin!”
Eduardo reached for the tearfully and frightened woman. They started for the door.

“STOP!” The monk shouted. “Stop Mr. Hushmanzata – should you and she leave here tonight you will surely meet your deaths!”

The horror filled pair kept moving toward the door. “Mr. Hushmanzata, please STOP! Look at the right palm of her hand!”

They stopped moving and stepped back away from the door. Eduardo turned Isabelle’s hands over, palms up. Shock, spine tingling horror, and blood curdling terror would not be strong enough words to describe their current demeanor or disposition. The shadowy image of the five-pointed pentagram – the five pointed star that disappeared and re-appeared on the entire palm of her hand gave them blue veined cold fright. It brought them to a high level of indescribable fear and graveyard-cold terror that no one has ever been able to present to a living soul. They backed away from the door, fumbling for the chairs they recently occupied as Brother Jerome attempted to provide some form of comfort.

Brother Jerome attempted to calm the ‘un-invited guests’ with another lai of warning and defensive preparation.

“Allow me my children, to enlighten you once again before tomorrow’s departure.” They all three jumped when a thunderous boom hit the chamber door. Brother Jerome rushed to the door and reinforced the existing bolts with a thick crossbar and a large high-backed chair as well. He tightly gripped his Holy-Walking Staff and raised it above his head while citing a warning to the incensed intruder.

 

“BEGONE O DEMON OF THE NIGHT…RETURN TO YOUR DARK DWELLING OF THE MOOR…THERE IS NOTHING HERE FOR THEE OTHER THAN THY DOOM!”

 

The door suffered another thunderous boom along with the rattle and shaking of ceiling and wall plagues and fixtures – the thing let loose a deep rumbling growl and a fiery roar in response to the brother’s challenge and defiance. But, begone, it did – the door bumped and banged no more and the air was silent save the howling of the wind.

 

 

Brother Jerome gathered himself and assisted us in picking up the fallen chairs and items about the chamber. He continued speaking…
“Bis Claveret was a nobleman who was married to a lovely lady; he was once in the habit of disappearing for three days of every week. This habit deeply distressed his wife. She wanted to know what it is he does but he refused to tell her. However, she insists, he give in and reveals to her that he is a ‘Werewolf!’“ He further stated that is the reason for spent time away from home. He needed to hunt while in the form of a wolf. In order for him to return to his human shape, he needed his clothes. The lady convinced him to tell her of the secret hiding place for his clothes. She planned to get rid of him and instructed her lover to assist her in the deed. The woman sent her lover to steal the husband’s clothes so that he would remain in the woods and forest Lands as a Wolf.

“There is much more to which enlightenment is required… The conception of witches, in its full blown capacity, going to a Sabbat led to the assumption of parallel gathering of wolves, as told by Boquet in 1603. The devil had an alternative trick, even more farfetched… In England, we often see men changed into wolves at the changes of the moon,” as recorded by ‘Gervais of Tilbury.”

Lycanthropy was not simply folklore or legend. It was, just as much as witchcraft, a sin against GOD. The crime was even more ruthlessly punished by the laws governed by the “Great Inquisition,” as recorded in the volumes, “Hallow” and “Hallow II.”

“Alas, we do share a dilemma, for we are hated by all the Demons of Hell and Satan himself! He has not forgotten his dungeon prison of “Truth and Justice;” locked in by the staff blessed with the “Power of the Most High!

Have you traveled through any woodlands or dense thicket while coming to this place?”

Eddie answered in a shaken voice, “Why yes, we got lost a couple of times and stumbled through the moor as well as the woods.”

“Do you feel something weighty upon your shoulders, your left shoulder in particular?” Jerome asked.

“Yes Brother, now that you’ve mentioned it, it does feel like something is on my back – my shoulder. The more I think about it, the heavier it becomes…Ouch! Something is digging into my flesh… Damn; there’s blood on my shirt, I’m bleeding!”

“You have been targeted and claimed My Son – By An Elemental!”

Isabelle and Eduardo hurried along… After starting the car, the pair drove off. The howling of the wolf sounded again. Isabelle was deathly frightened. Eduardo sat in the silence and harbored a grizzly grin.

“Yes, let us hurry and get back to town, I’m very hungry.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth…!”

 

…Til Next Time.

 

 

“Howl Of An Angel” Pt.1 and Pt.2
Hallow II: A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany
(“A Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision”)
“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e…;

“My name is ‘Eduardo Tirilius Williams Hushmanzata”
http://howlofanangel.blogspot.com/
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/howl-of-an-angel

~”By The Light Of The Silvery Moon”~
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/by-the-light-of-the-silvery-moon 

~BoulwareEnterprises~

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

https://about.me/gregory_boulware

 

*/

 

#Howling #Wolfbane #Satanic #Werewolfery #SilverMoon #Moonlight #TheLeagueOfLiars #Horror #BoulwareBooks #SCSEP #MCOA #NCOA #CCPedu #BereanInstitute #IndependentBlackMedia #UncleBobbiesCoffeandBooks #GTown #Witchcraft #Demonology #Boulware #Dracula #Vampire #Changling #Anthology #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #PhilaBear #DelaBear #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #TheHowlingMan #TruthandJustice #SpiritOfTheSoul #MadeForMinds #EzineAuthors #The3rdEye #TheSeed #Germantown #Philadelphia #HBCU #HealStorian #The25thDynasty #NelsonMandela #Polymath #Erudite #SojournerTruth #Sojourner

~ “The Academic Amazonian!” ~

/*

TWWOB – Origins of The Boulware Papers 

 “The Academic Amazonian!”

~ “The Spirituality & Spiritualization of Spiritualism” ~

420 Plus World Wide Mentions, Seven Published Paperbacks, and a Multitude of Articles, Essays, & Educational Postings!

https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware  

Author Accomplishments:

http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Gregory_V._Boulware/121107/achievements   

“Academia discovered the name “G Boulware” mentioned in a paper uploaded by someone in Delhi, India; among many others…”

https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware 

TWWOB – Book One: The First of Six Digitally Produced Books!

‘Origins of The Boulware Papers’

~ “The Spirituality & Spiritualization of Spiritualism” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_…

“HBCU”
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“TWWOB”
The Written Works of Boulware (6 Free Digital Online Books) Plus The Amazon Collection (Seven PaperBacks)!
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Book #1

TWWOB – Book One, Origins of…

“The Boulware Papers”

~”The Spirituality & Spiritualization of Spiritualism”~

Spirituality:
“The state or quality of being dedicated to God, religion, or spiritual things or values, esp as contrasted with material or temporal ones; the condition or quality of being spiritual; a distinctive approach to religion or prayer: the spirituality of the desert Fathers; (often plural) Church property or revenue or a Church benefice.”
http://hbcu.com/content/354606/twwob-origins-the-boulware-papers-bo…

Book#2

TWWOB – Book Two: ‘Origins of The Boulware Papers’

~”The Digitized Digital World From An Educational  Point of View “~ 

Digital:
“Displaying a readout in numerical digits rather than by a pointer or hands on a dial:
A digital speedometer; a digital watch; of, relating to, or using numerical calculations; of, relating to, or using data in the form of numerical digits:
a digital image; digital devices; involving or using numerical digits expressed in a scale of notation, usually in the binary system, to represent discretely all variables occurring in a problem; available in electronic form; readable and manipulable by computer…”
Technological[ tek-nuh-loj-i-kuh l
adjective
Of or relating to technology; relating to science and industry. Economics. caused by technical advances in production methods.”
http://hbcu.com/content/354654/twwob-book-two-origins-of-the-boulwa…

Book#3

TWWOB – Book Three: ‘Origins of The Boulware Papers’

~”Philosophical Inputs of Philosophies & Ideas in Education”~

Philosophical:
Philosophical or phil·o·soph·ic[ fil-uh-sof-i-kuh l or fil-uh-sof-ik ]
adjective
“Of or relating to philosophy:
philosophical studies. Versed in or occupied with philosophy. Proper to or befitting a philosopher. Rationally or sensibly calm, patient, or composed. Rare. Of or relating to natural philosophy or physical science.”

Philosophies:
Philosophy[ fi-los-uh-fee
noun, plural phi·los·o·phies.
“The rational investigation of the truths and principles of being, knowledge, or conduct. Any of the three branches, namely natural philosophy, moral philosophy, and metaphysical philosophy, that are accepted as composing this study. A particular system of thought based on such study or investigation:
The philosophy of Spinoza. The critical study of the basic principles and concepts of a particular branch of knowledge, especially with a view to improving or reconstituting them:
The philosophy of science. A system of principles for guidance in practical affairs. An attitude of rationality, patience, composure, and calm in the presence of troubles or annoyances.”

Education:
Education[ ej-oo-key-shuhn ]
noun
“The act or process of imparting or acquiring general knowledge, developing the powers of reasoning and judgment, and generally of preparing oneself or others intellectually for mature life. The act or process of imparting or acquiring particular knowledge or skills, as for a profession.
A degree, level, or kind of schooling:
A university education. The result produced by instruction, training, or study:
To show one’s education. The science or art of teaching; pedagogics.”
http://hbcu.com/content/354722/twwob-book-three-origins-of-the-boul…

Book#4

TWWOB-Book Four ‘Origins of The Boulware Papers’

~”The Fiction & The Fantasy”~

Fantasy:
Fantasy[ fan-tuh-see, -zee ]
noun, plural fan·ta·sies.
“Imagination, especially when extravagant and unrestrained. The forming of mental images, especially wondrous or strange fancies; imaginative conceptualizing.
A mental image, especially when unreal or fantastic; vision: a nightmare fantasy; imagery that is more or less coherent, as in dreams and daydreams, yet unrestricted by reality, phantasia.”

Fiction:
Fiction[ fik-shuhn ]
noun
“The class of literature comprising works of imaginative narration, especially in prose form.
works of this class, as novels or short stories:
detective fiction. Something feigned, invented, or imagined; a made-up story:
We’ve all heard the fiction of her being in delicate health. The act of feigning, inventing, or imagining. An imaginary thing or event, postulated for the purposes of argument or explanation. Law. An allegation that a fact exists that is known not to exist, made by authority of law to bring a case within the operation of a rule of law.”
http://hbcu.com/content/354798/twwob-book-4-origins-of-the-boulware…

Book#5

~ TWWOB-Book Five: ‘Origins of The Boulware Papers’

~”Historically Speaking, A Word or Two With Words”~

History:
History[ his-tuh-ree, his-tree ]
noun, plural his·to·ries.
“The branch of knowledge dealing with past events. A continuous, systematic narrative of past events as relating to a particular people, country, period, person, etc., usually written as a chronological account; chronicle:
A history of France; a medical history of the patient. The aggregate of past events. The record of past events and times, especially in connection with the human race.
A past notable for its important, unusual, or interesting events:
A ship with a history. Acts, ideas, or events that will or can shape the course of the future; immediate but significant happenings:
Firsthand observers of our space program see history in the making. A systematic account of any set of natural phenomena without particular reference to time:
A history of the American eagle. A drama representing historical events:
Shakespeare’s comedies, histories, and tragedies.”

Words:
word[ wurd ]
noun
“A unit of language, consisting of one or more spoken sounds or their written representation, that functions as a principal carrier of meaning. Words are composed of one or more morphemes and are either the smallest units susceptible of independent use or consist of two or three such units combined under certain linking conditions, as with the loss of primary accent that distinguishes black-bird from black- bird. Words are usually separated by spaces in writing, and are distinguished phonologically, as by accent, in many languages. (used in combination with the first letter of an offensive or unmentionable word, the first letter being lowercase or uppercase, with or without a following hyphen):
My mom married at 20, and she mentions the m-word every time I meet someone she thinks is eligible.
See also f-word, n-word.
words, speech or talk:
To express one’s emotion in words; Words mean little when action is called for. The text or lyrics of a song as distinguished from the music. Contentious or angry speech; A quarrel:
We had words and she walked out on me. A short talk or conversation:
Marston, I’d like a word with you. An expression or utterance:
A word of warning. Warrant, assurance, or promise:
I give you my word I’ll be there. News; tidings; information:
We received word of his death.
A verbal signal, as a password, watchword, or countersign. An authoritative utterance, or command:
His word was law. Also called machine word. Computers. a string of bits, characters, or bytes treated as a single entity by a computer, particularly for numeric purposes.
(initial capital letter) Also called the Word, the Word of God. The Scriptures; the Bible. The Logos. The message of the gospel of Christ. A proverb or motto.
verb (used with object) To express in words; select words to express; phrase:
To word a contract with great care.”
http://hbcu.com/content/354841/twwob-book-five-origins-of-the-boulw…

Book #6

TWWOB – Book Six: ‘Origins of The Boulware Papers’

~ Politics, Business, Legal, & Marketing; “AI”~

Politics:
Politics[ pol-i-tiks ]
noun (used with a singular or plural verb)
The science or art of political government. The practice or profession of conducting political affairs.
Political affairs:
“The advocated reforms have become embroiled in politics. Political methods or maneuvers:
We could not approve of his politics in winning passage of the bill.
Political principles or opinions:
We avoided discussion of religion and politics. His politics are his own affair. Use of intrigue or strategy in obtaining any position of power or control, as in business, university, etc. (Initial capital letter, italics) a treatise (4th century b.c.) by Aristotle, dealing with the structure, organization, and administration of the state, especially the city-state as known in ancient Greece.”

Business:
Business[ biz-nis ]
noun
“An occupation, profession, or trade:
His business is poultry farming. The purchase and sale of goods in an attempt to make a profit. A person, partnership, or corporation engaged in commerce, Manufacturing, or a service; profit-seeking enterprise or concern.Volume of trade; patronage:
Most of the store’s business comes from local families.
adjective:
Of, Noting, or Pertaining to business, its organization, or its procedures. Containing, suitable for, or welcoming business or commerce:
New York is a good business town…”

Law/Legal:
Law – law1[ law ]
noun
“The principles and regulations established in a community by some authority and applicable to its people, whether in the form of legislation or of custom and policies recognized and enforced by judicial decision. Any written or positive rule or collection of rules prescribed under the authority of the state or nation, as by the people in its constitution.Compare bylaw, statute law. The controlling influence of such rules; the condition of society brought about by their observance:
Maintaining law and order. A system or collection of such rules. The department of knowledge concerned with these rules; jurisprudence:
To study law. The body of such rules concerned with a particular subject or derived from a particular source:
Commercial law. An act of the supreme legislative body of a state or nation, as distinguished from the constitution. The principles applied in the courts of common law, as distinguished from equity. The profession that deals with law and legal procedure:
To practice law. Legal action; litigation:
To go to law. A person, group, or agency acting officially to enforce the law:
The law arrived at the scene soon after the alarm went off. Any rule or injunction that must be obeyed:
Having a nourishing breakfast was an absolute law in our household. A rule or principle of proper conduct sanctioned by conscience, concepts of natural justice, or the will of a deity:
A moral law. A rule or manner of behavior that is instinctive or spontaneous:
the law of self-preservation.
(In philosophy, science, etc.) A statement of a relation or sequence of phenomena invariable under the same conditions.
a mathematical rule.
a principle based on the predictable consequences of an act, condition, etc.:
The law of supply and demand. A rule, principle, or convention regarded as governing the structure or the relationship of an element in the structure of something, as of a language or work of art:
The laws of play writing; the laws of grammar. A commandment or a revelation from God. (Sometimes initial capital letter) a divinely appointed order or system. The Law. Law of Moses. The preceptive/perceptive part of the Bible, especially of the New Testament, in contradistinction to its promises:
The law of Christ.
British Sports. an allowance of time or distance given a quarry or competitor in a race, as the head start given a fox before the hounds are set after it.
verb (used with object)
Chiefly Dialect. to sue or prosecute.”

Legal:
adjective
Permitted by law; lawful:
“Such acts are not legal. Of or relating to law; connected with the law or its administration:
The legal profession. Appointed, established, or authorized by law; deriving authority from law.”
noun
“A person who acts in a legal manner or with legal authority. An alien who has entered a country legally. A person whose status is protected by law. A fish or game animal, within specified size or weight limitations, that the law allows to be caught and kept during an appropriate season. A foreigner who conducts espionage against a host country while working there in a legitimate capacity, often in the diplomatic service. Legals, authorized investments that may be made by fiduciaries, as savings banks or trustees.”

Marketing:
Marketing[ mahr-ki-ting]
noun
“The act of buying or selling in a market. The total of activities involved in the transfer of goods from the producer or seller to the consumer or buyer, including advertising, shipping, storing, and selling.
an open place or a covered building where buyers and sellers convene for the sale of goods; a marketplace:
A farmers’ market.
A store for the sale of food:
A meat market.
A meeting of people for selling and buying. The assemblage of people at such a meeting. Trade or traffic, especially as regards a particular commodity:
The market in cotton. A body of persons carrying on extensive transactions in a specified commodity:
The cotton market. The field of trade or business:
The best shoes in the market. Demand for a commodity:
An unprecedented market for leather. A body of existing or potential buyers for specific goods or services:
The health-food market. A region in which goods and services are bought, sold, or used:
The foreign market; the New England market. Current price or value:
A rising market for shoes. Stock market.
Verb (used without object) To buy or sell in a market; deal. To buy food and provisions for the home. verb (used with object) To carry or send to market for disposal:
To market produce every week. To dispose of in a market; sell.”

Artificial Intelligence (AI):
noun
“The capacity of a computer to perform operations analogous to learning and decision making in humans, as by an expert system, a program for CAD or CAM, or a program for the perception and recognition of shapes in computer vision systems. Abbreviation: AI, A.I.The study of the modelling of human mental functions by computer programs Abbreviation: AI… The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
“The goal of research on artificial intelligence is to understand the nature of thought and intelligent behavior and to design intelligent systems. A computer is not really intelligent; it just follows directions very quickly. At the same time, it is the speed and memory of modern computers that allows researchers to manage the huge quantities of data necessary to model human thought and behavior. An intelligent machine would be more flexible than a computer and would engage in the kind of “thinking” that people actually do. An example is vision. In theory, a network of sensors combined with systems for interpreting the data could produce the kind of pattern recognition that we take for granted as seeing and understanding what we see. In fact, developing software that can recognize subtle differences in objects (such as those we use to recognize human faces) is very difficult. The recognition of differences that we can perceive without deliberate effort would require massive amounts of data and elaborate guidelines to be recognized by an artificial intelligence system. According to the famous Turing Test, proposed in 1950 by British mathematician and logician Alan Turing, a machine would be considered intelligent if it could convince human observers that another human, rather than a machine, was answering their questions in conversation.””
http://hbcu.com/content/354845/twwob-book-six-origins-of-the-boulwa…

“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e…

“Academia”
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware

“Ezine Articles”
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Gregory_V._Boulware/121107/achievem…

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Twitter”
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG 

…Til Next Time!

/*

‘Fairmount’- Willis Samuel Investigations Pt. 9: ~ “The Games Afoot!” ~

/*

‘Fairmount’- Willis Samuel Investigations Pt. 9:

~ “The Games Afoot!” ~
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/fairmount-willis-…

Part 9: “The Games Afoot!”

 

While driving away from the shooting scene, I thought of what Sally was telling me before I left the office…

“I wasn’t seeing the relevance of all this until this ‘Sabbat-type’ of gathering occurred. I don’t know why, but a cold and bone shivering chill ran up and down my spine.

“I would advise you to take another look at this information. I know your superiors don’t think it’s worth a shit…but then again, they don’t cotton to you, me, or anybody else of color to get them thinking and moving for any cause that we think worthy. Brother, I wouldn’t go fucking around with not getting this thing out in the open. It may create trouble for you or it might get you the mayor’s seat…possibly the good graces of the public at large.”

Just as I was enjoying the momentary quiet of the humming engine, another call loudly and coldly squawked over the radio…“At least six Philadelphia police officers were shot during a gun battle in Philadelphia’s East-Falls section of town!”

Sally’s memory quickly leapt out of my mind when the deadening voice of the present danger continued speaking. “Two officers and three others who were trapped inside the home with the shooter!”

The deadly horror scene was much worse than the scene at the Tacony location, were I just left.

“IN PROGRESS…A SHOOTING IN GERMANTOWN, ON GREENE ST., AT ABBOTTSFORD AVE., MAN DOWN!” And just as soon as I was headed to that location, another tragedy was squawked over the Police Communications Network… “ATTENTION…ATTENTION…ALERT…A CHILD HAS BEEN SHOT!” That call location was in the North Philly Section of town. How in hell could I be in two locations at the same time? Many of the evening shift are at the Tacony location and/or on other calls throughout the city. There was a stabbing in the “Point Breeze” area of South Philadelphia…another bad scene was in the Northeast part of town. That tragedy was a “Hit and Run.” The dead woman was aged sixty-four. The pickup truck was recovered along with the driver. That scene had to be secured and locked down. On the Boulevard, a van jumped the guard rail and was caught by its undercarriage, hanging off an overpass…it was fleeing the scene of a shooting investigation in “Olney.”

The shooter was apprehended at the scene…it was the man’s wife. She caught him with another woman at the home of her cousin near Green St. and Abbottsford. It was she whom the man had been sleeping. The child was shot by his friend while they were playing with a gun in a basement of a home on Allegheny Avenue. There was no way that I could make the South Philly call, a stabbing on Point Breeze Avenue near 22nd Street…it was handled by the cops of the 1st District on 24th St. The dead woman was hit and killed on Red Lion Road near the Roosevelt Boulevard. The guys at the 8th District were handling that one. The Olney call was handled by the officers of the 24th.

So now I’m free to make things right on this call.

This call came in while I traveled west on Torresdale Avenue. “We have gone from a hostage situation to one of a barricade,” said the radio voice. Warren broke the new silence with his call. “Yo Chief, you alright?” I answered, “Yeah, where are you?”

“I’m headed down the Boulevard enroute to the shoot-out in the “Falls.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there, I’m enroute as well.” We seemed to arrive at the same time… The shooting was still going on when we arrived. “Merrick Road,” near “Midvale Avenue,” after Calumet, on the way north towards “Schoolhouse Lane,” off of “Ridge Avenue,” was cluttered with blue and white squad cars. You couldn’t see past them up the hill, let alone get up the fuckin hill for all the damned cars. Warren and I parked our cars down at the bottom of the hill on Ridge Avenue and walked up to the peak of “Look-Out-Mountain.” The hill is located at the crest of Merrick at “Creswell Street.” That street was a pretty steep hill as well. Merrick was simply higher and seemed to take longer on a ride down to the bottom as opposed to the other.

Two officers and three others inside the home took on fire during the incident. They were fired upon once they arrived at the residence, intending to only question the suspect. A call came in to the 39th District about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The caller said they heard a fight going on within an apartment on the 11th floor of the “Earlham” building. A unit was dispatched to check things out. When the unit arrived at the back of the building in the parking lot, something was tossed or had fallen from one of the overhead windows. The water and glass shattered spraying debris all over and striking the squad car. The officers reacted by ducking for cover. They then rushed toward the underpass of the building towards the elevators. Once on the elevator, they were accompanied by an occupant of the building who heard the disturbance…he was not the one who called. The man aided them with the location of the trouble. The apartment fight was indeed on the 11th floor.

When they knocked on the door, things went quiet. They, the male and female officers, knocked again with more intent. “This is the police, please open the door,” said the female officer in a loud and official voice. The door slowly opened. A woman was standing there, blocking the way in, obscuring the view of the interior. The male officer asked the woman if there was anything wrong. She had large tears running down her face. She seemed horrified as she attempted to hush and rush the cops away. “I’m okay…please leave before he sees you!”

A loud voice was heard from inside the apartment unit… “Who the fuck is at my got-damned door? It’s the motherfuckin police ain’t it? I saw the got-damned cop car out the window…I’m going to turn the fuckin thing into a pile of blue and white shit, right now! Bitch, shut the damned door before I kill your stupid ass!” The woman made an attempt to close the door. That’s when the officers pushed open the door and rushed past the crying and frightened woman; while she shouted for them to please leave before he starts shooting again!

Shots rang out! The angry and crazed man was indeed shooting out of the apartment window when the two officers burst into his bedroom. He shot the police car, hitting it with a barrage of automatic rifle bullits. The officers dove for cover when the shooter turned and pointed the weapon at them. The officer fell back out of the bedroom door, pilling on top of one another. They couldn’t get away…they were both shot and bleeding. They had no idea of how deranged the shooter was. His monstrous anger went out of control when he was cheated out of his pay check. He worked for the woman’s brother who owned a construction company. The man beat up his brother-in-law for the disrespect and shorted pay. The employer paid his workers under the table for their work in dismantling old houses. The disgruntled shooter had been cheated before. The argument started when they sat down at the table to have a few drinks from the bottle of wine they’d brought with them from the days’ job. It was Friday. On Friday is when the men got paid and they would usually have a few drinks or a couple of six packs of beer and a bag of joint or two. Today was different…he would have no bullshit from his brother-in-law, or anyone else for that matter, today he was going to be treated right. He was going to be respected; especially in his own home. But, the brother-in-law came in with the same ole bullshit. Richard was not having any. He got his gun, pointed it at the head of his employer and told him to pay him what he owed him. The man laughed. The madman hit him across the face with the butt of the weapon and began to beat the shit out of the cheater. He beat his ass and then kicked him out of the apartment. He took all of the money in the man’s pockets…getting what was owed to him.

The beaten man threatened to call the cops… The shooter replied, “Oh yeah, call them motherfuckers and I’ll deal with them too!”

Two women and two children were escorted by the Philadelphia SWAT Team from the scene. They told CBS3 that they were inside the home on the twelfth floor at the time of the shootout and that police saved them.

Salestian Michaels arrived on the scene. He was there when the call came in for a “Swat Team” and “Hostage Negotiators.” Three other officers arrived before Swat. They had been fired upon and caught up in the turmoil right along with the first two cops. They were all trapped inside of the apartment. The corridor door faced the bedroom where the shooter was shooting from. None of the five officers could get out due the line of fire. They were all trapped inside the room; out of the line of fire; away from the doorway. The sixth officer stumbled in, falling inside from the wildly fired shots, winding up behind the door accessing the corridor doorway. He unfortunately feel inside, behind the door, causing it to close…trapping them all inside with the crazed and wildly mad automatic weaponed shooter.

While the standoff continued, Salestian began interviewing residents from in and around the project area as they began to gather. The cops were unsuccessful in keeping them all back, in spite of the gun-fire from above. Sally knew a great story when one arrived. This one fell right into his lap. Right inside his van, he began typing and videotaping the “East Falls Story.”

The article would read as follows:

~”East Falls, The Black and White of It”~

…The White Side Experience(s):

These are some of the ‘White Folks’ who have lived and grown-up in The East Falls Housing Projects during the fifties and sixties...

Anne wrote:
I have and still do live across from the East Falls Project.
When I was young the high rise building used to scare me. No one could ever predict what was going to be thrown out the windows. What I mostly saw being tossed was trash, appliances, animals, maybe a few body parts and even a body or 2.
Especially at night, waking me up from the sounds of screeching brakes, crashing their cars into everything and anything. The noise was so loud i’d have to hold my ears.
The worst were the dog fights. I can remember crying from the sounds of the dogs getting hurt. In the summer, at night, the kids in the project would line up against the fence along the tracks with railroad rocks and just start throwing them at the houses along Cresson Street. Forcing us to run for cover until they were done. We were lucky if we got a chance to finish a game of wireball at the bottom of Fisk and Cresson before they ruined it with throwing rocks. The best part of the day of the implosion was spending it with my Brother Franny, Just the look on his face I will never forget. I felt we had a real brother and sister moment. He lived for that day….
I was fortunate to watch the implosion with my brother Franny. I couldn’t have had a better person to be with. That was the last time I saw him. What a memory

Joan wrote:
I lived on Merrick rd from 59 to 63 back than my last name was Gleason there were five of us kids . It was the best place in the whole world to be a kid. After we moved I spent every weekend at Margie Wilson’s house and @ hung out with Wally Price, Skip Hummel Charlie Parker. Miss the good old days for sure.

Beverly wrote:
Does anyone remember the Oscar Meyer Wiener truck coming to the prodject ,have a pic but can t find it.

Mary wrote:
Yes!!!i remember.someone from east falls recently took a job to drive the wiener truck it’s going across country again!!cant remember who posted that about a month ago.

David wrote:
In 1840, during the presidential campaign of William Henry Harrison, a log cabin was built for him across from Wissahickon Hall. Afterwards, the log cabin was deconstructed and rebuilt as the Old Log Cabin Inn. It was located off the road and separated by the creek, and to reach it patrons had to cross a small wooden bridge, known then as the Log Cabin Bridge. It was razed in 1872.

David wrote:
“Cars on Lincoln Drive, another danger point at the intersection of lower Wissahickon and Lincoln Drives. Because of the abrupt turn here and the great number of motor cars using both drives it is ranked among the most dangerous of Fairmount Park traffic points and has been the scene of many accidents.” February 1st 1927.

Tom wrote:
How you doing How are all my project families doing , I’m going down to Gustine. lake for a swim this afternoon anyone else in .? What’s hot up!

George wrote:
Oh, to only have those days back again!i could sure use a nice dip in Gustine Lake right now. I remember going there with my parents and brothers when it was a real lake. Also, where the Creswell building was built used to be a stable where you rent horses. My dad used to take me there to see the horses. One day we went and the stables were gone,all the ground torn up. Never thouth the project would be built there and that i would live there. the best place ever to live. I miss it so.

Dory wrote:
All that concreat we sure got nice tans remember LOUIE the crossing guard?

Janet wrote:
Does anyone remember Kevin Bacon’s mother, Ruth, teaching at the nursery school? She began teaching there around 1958, after Mrs.Walker left. Who could have imagined that her son would be a famous actor?

Mary wrote:
I remember Geno’s!!!! (a.k.a., Gino’s-“The Gino-Giant, GVB)

Marisa wrote:
My 1st job! (Mine too, GVB)

Toni wrote:
Toni Still (Carson). Thanks for letting me join. I have seen several names and faces I remember well! They were the good ole days!

David wrote:
Officer George Mang of the Philadelphia Safety Patrol Unit at his post on the Henry Ave Bridge – October of 1941.

David wrote:
Wissahickon Drive circa 1901. The name “Wissahickon” comes from the Lenni Lenape word “wisameckham” for “catfish creek”, a reference to the species of fish that once abounded in the nearby Wissahickon Creek.

David wrote:
Grace Kelly and her parents attending Easter Sunday Mass at St.Bridget’s R.C.Church in East Falls on April 2,1956. (He posted a photo of Grace Kelly and Parents – John and Margret, St. Bridget Church in The Falls – Their home, 3901 Henry Ave.)

Wally Posted this:
(a memorial placard that read)-“Charles Peyatt, 10, of Merrick Rd., in East Falls, died Monday at 5 A.M. in Women’s Medical College from injuries he received when struck by a car Sunday night on Winona Street.

Janet wrote:
I remember this, i lived on Winona St back then!

Marisa wrote:
Ok, Brothers and Sisters from EFP, we are meeting at Franklins at Cresson and Bowman sts for our yearly luncheon at 1:00pm on February 25, weather permitting, Cya there.

Marisa wrote:
As usual, our luncheon went great! I love to sit back and watch everyone talk about the good ole days or even things going on in this time of our lives! Thank you everyone for being there and sharing great memories.

Tom wrote:
A piece of me died that day… (when they blew up the East Falls Towers)(and Me Too, GVB).

Jim wrote:
I was sitting across from the train station with Joe Long when they went down.

Jack wrote:
I wonder if Sammy Barlow was still in there?

Tom wrote:
Do you remember ??? Many moons ago back in the mid sixties girls would save chewing gum wrappers and then fold them a certain way then link them together to form a chain . they made the chain as long as their boyfriend was tall then gave it to him . does anyone remember this ? Did you ever make one or get one ? I got one.

Marisa wrote:
LORETTA Clark and I used to make them out of Wrigley spearmint gum wrappers and make them long enough to go around our bedroom doorway!

Angela wrote:
I just read on Philly.com that Prince Albert of Monaco will be in Philly on Tuesday to talk about his plans for the Kelly Home at 3902 Henry Ave.

Carol wrote:
I only remember driving pass their houses and always telling who ever I was with who lived there LoL.

Peggi wrote:
I use to love to walk by the Kelly house! I’m so glad that the house is being kept in the family! An East Falls treasure.

Tom wrote:
I can see my house . Can you see yours? (An arial photo of East Falls in its’ entirety)(I remember the experiencing that very same view when a few of us, hosted by Peter Goodwin, while on an arial trip from the Northeast Airport. Goodwin rented an airplane,taking us for a ride-we flew over the East Falls Projects because it was our home, GVB).

Carol wrote:
Both of them, Merrick Road and Ridge Avenue.

Tom wrote:
If you know what these are, you’re old as shit! (a photo of paper caps for cap guns back in the day, GVB).

Steve wrote:
Caps for my old as shit cap gun.

Jack wrote:
I am actually 10 years older than shit and 15 older than dirt!

Wally wrote:
We had a great turn out on Saturday September 10th at Flat Rock Park in Gladwyne, Pa. I think about 18 of our group showed up. Thanks to Marisa Price-Shiffler, Joe Ritchie and Andy Conicello for all the stuff they do to get us together. It was a little hot but sitting in the shade under the trees and next to the river talking to old friends and old times from when we were all young was pretty cool. Sorry I didn’t take any pictures. I think the next time we get together it will be a little cooler and probably at Franklins’ (The Old Italian Club). Let’s try to have a better showing next time, we have 310 people in our group I think we can do better.

Jack wrote:
was just Thinking. The reason most of us kids were always smiling while our Hearts were Young included all the things the Project offered such as, baseball games all summer long at the field, half ball, wall ball, dancing to Doo Wop music, playing tag in the school yard, all our friends, first girlfriend, first car, Gustine lake, (we liked climbing the fence after hours and swam until the Fairmount Police Guard chased us out), and so much more. Thanks Mr. & Mrs Project for helping to keep me feeling Young.

Beverly wrote:
We climbed the fence many times and were chased out many times ha ha a-lot of good people came from project feel sorry for those who didn’t live there…

Jack wrote:
4555 Merrick Road I remember it as our Brand New Home in the early 50’s We had a Black-Top-Area next to us that was so special to me because one of the Fun things was learning to jump over not only the Flat Benches but also the upright ones. It was 1956 and the Fun was just starting.

Mary wrote:
4424 Merrick rd left 1964 ..but loved growing up near the woods. river and creek so much fun…

Tom wrote:
Here’s another reason the Project was so special. Yesterday my wife and I celebrated our 55 wedding anniversary. Thanks to living in the Project. 1955-1963. We starting dating in 61 and married at St.Bridget’s in 63. Surely, the Best of Times.

Tom wrote:
Our first home at 4555 Merrick Rd. was red, when we moved to 4313 Ridge Ave it was yellow. Pictured before the 61 bus. I always thought they were so cool as I did about everything in the Project. Happy Times…

Dennis wrote:
When I hear black and gifted, I can’t listen anymore. What’s wrong with saying he is gifted! Which he is!!(Young, Gifted, and Black – Nina Simone, GVB).

Tom posted:
A photo of a five pound package of “Processed Cheese, Welfare Cheese.” It’s dated 1954…”The United States Department of Agriculture, A Section 32 Commodity for Distribution to School Lunch Programs and other Eligible Outlets, not to be sold or exchanged.”

Marie wrote:
Wally I was from “Abbottsford” (projects on Henry Ave. and Fox Streets, GVB). But I enjoy all your stories because we had the same ones…

Wally wrote:
Hi Marie, yea our neighborhoods were similar. We always got into a fight with some guys from Abbottsford when we would go there to visit friend a girl named Betty Leddy and her sister Anna Marie.

Jack wrote:
I remember roller skating for hours on that black top next to the house, until Dad made me a wooden scooter, using my metal skates a two by four and of course a wooden milk crate with wooden handles. It didn’t take long to find out that almost everyone had one of the scooters. Sometimes all of us would line up at the top of Merrick Rd. and after lots of practice end up at Ridge Ave. The sound made from all of those scooters was so loud I bet they could hear them at Ridge & Midvale. Kids having Fun.

Kevin wrote:
Had my first concussion at the age of 5(?) from the Cresswell Street merry-go-round. Was doing a look ma, no hands and went flying. Carried up to our 4th floor apt by the Abbotts milk man. Hear his nice white uniform was covered with my blood.

Jack wrote:
That entire black top area of the Cresswell Apartments provided many hours of just having fun. One day the Guys tied me to that merry-go-round and spun me for what seemed hours. I was pretty sick by the end of that ride. Kids just having Fun.

Jack wrote:
By 1956 Rock and Roll Music entered the scene as I remember with Bill Haley & the Comets song Rock Around the Clock. Elvis,Chuck Berry, and all those other Great Doo Wop Groups were soon to follow. To me the next step was watching American Bandstand to learn how to dance. After lots of practice I finally got the guts to Dance at the Famous Friday Night Dance at the Rec. And I still dance every chance I get. Thanks to those days as a kid in the Project. Hey Marian Stringfellow if you read this besides yourself who were other girls from our times that also danced.
Memories of the Project for me began in 1956 mostly because it was the start of meeting new friends. Many of those relationships lasted until 1963 the year I got married and moved. But much of what I am today was forged during those early years. I say that because last January I celebrated my 71 Birthday and to this day some of my fondest memories are about all my friends, all the good times, my love for Doo Wop Music, Dancing, Sports, those Fabulous Cars of the Fifties, and most of all Mom and Dad.
St. Bridgets was my first school and then I transferred to school in the Project and I do remember George as one of the Guys.
Thinking of you Dee Sizer as I remember some of the memories of the Schuylkill Falls Housing Project. 1956 was a very good year I was 11years old and it was one year since Mom and Dad moved us to the Project. I had no idea just how wonderful this place really was. Besides living in a brand new development that never looked like most other Housing Project in Philadelphia I know most of folks living their appreciated having and opportunity to rise (raise, GVB) their children in a safe environment that offered lots of ways to meet new friends.More to come.
Hi Marian Stringfellow glad you liked some of my memories of the Good Old Project. What are some of your fond memories??
Memories of growing up in the Project keeps me young. Snow storms of the fifties never bother me but then again nothing bothers the Young. As an example watching snow fall against the back drop of the apartment buildings to me was beautiful. Sledding down Merrick Road and the hills around the baseball field kept us kids busy for hours. Just another reason why growing up in the Project was so Special.

Bob wrote:
Hears (here’s, GVB) a long shot ??? The miller’s and our cousins the grabber’s lived on Merrick rd. As you walked up the steps the first house on the left two girls l lived there . Does anyone remember their names.

Jack #2 wrote:
It really turned out to have been a great place to grow up….we moved in around the same time. I was 7 and my sister would have been about 5…I lived there until I was around 20-21…made some great friends and have some forever memories!

Janet #2 wrote:
All the kids sled down the hills of the baseball field. If we didn’t have a sled we used cardboard. We certainly had a lot of hills in East Falls.

Janet wrote:
I miss them days growing up in the projects! Remember sledding down the hills on cardboard!

Tom wrote:
On this cold and snowy winter night I was thinking about summer in the project . so which did like better , water ice or snowballs ? raise your hand if you know the difference.

Joan wrote:
Water ice and pretzel with mustard is one of my favorite things.

Cecelia wrote:
Tom where did pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day. I alwaysthought it was Irish, but I had a German great-grandmother, and she made it I have friends whose backgrounds were Eastern Europe and they. Had it. If you could find out and post it. Gratitude is yours.

Janet wrote:
I’am German and we always had Pork and Sauerkraut on New Years Day!

>

…The Black Side Experience(s) The Sixties and Beyond:
“The Earlham / Creswell Buildings and Low Rises!”

Michele wrote:

“On the side of my old house 3708 Winona St. There was a fireplug on the side. (Jr.,) Bernadette Patterson’s brother use to get the wrench turn the plug on, everybody and they mother got wet, and if you did’nt get wet you got dunked or splashed with a bucket of water. Don’t get your hair done?? Boy I miss those days. As a child on the backtrail, I use to always look through that gate where the tracks were and knew their were houses over there. But always wanted to know what was over there that was different from over here, I found out. RACISM!”

>

Hakim wrote:
“If you are looking for a DJ for your event make sure you call me Dj_Yahmeen267(Hakim). I am affordable, reliable and I have all of my own equipment. I also offer photography if you should happen to need it for your event. I guarantee this will be the best call you have made!”

>

Robert wrote:
“4317 Merrick Rd, that’s when they had aluminum and plastic windows with closet between the kitchen and the living rooms!”

>

Orlando wrote:
“I remember my mom and my uncle James use to whip us for sneaking down there and when I was 5 years old I almost drowned in the (Gustine) pool!”

>

Deborah wrote:
“My mother Mrs.Leah Palmer lived 4579 Merrick Road.She lived up there for 35years!”

>

Alan wrote:
“I can remember the summers when school was out running down School House Lane barefoot in the late morning/early afternoon after playing back the woods and in the sand pile for a while. Covered in grey dust from the sand pile we would get to Gustine and unwillingly run through the sprinkler and straight into the deep end. After swimming and playing in the water until we were all wrinkled up, we would get out of the pool and lay out on the black top in the parking lot to dry off and warm up. If I had a quarter, I might buy a box of pretzels and soak them down with mustard from the concession window, but usually we would go up to Duchess for a pile of candy. Other times if the weather wasn’t that hot we would have to go into the locker room, get a basket and change, making sure that we didn’t lose the stretch ankle tag in the pool. Wanna really go back? Do you remember the cave before the sand pile? Cline Thornton? Old man Higgins house burning down before they built the Gypsy Lane Condos? ~ Third floor Creswell Bldg. 1964…”

>

Lavount wrote:
“I never got used to walking up that Hill so I took the back steps or the bridge!”

>

Jackie wrote:
“Boy do I remember sliding under the bridge on that cobblestone we had so much fun!”

>

Michele wrote:
“I remember Halloween in the projects, we never trick or treated in the projects, we would go up School House Lane where all the rich white people were, we would come back with shopping bags full of candy, sodas, fruit, money. And before we could eat any of it my mom had to check it cause they were putting razors and straight pins in the candy. Thank God we never ran across none. Those were the good ole days!”

>

Ben wrote:
“In East Falls my bedroom faced the City line area.”

>

Robin wrote:
“THE FAMILY Lived AT 4521 MERRICK RD I had a great time Growing up in East Falls!”

>

Karen wrote:
“At 4563 Arnold St lived next door to the Holidays and across from the Massey’s and the Henderson and around the corner was the West house old my name is “Winky” and I have a brother “Footie” and 2 sister “Val” and “Debbie!”

>

Michelle wrote:
“Does anybody remember the family who had newsstand, water ice and fresh fruit stand on Ridge Ave? family told all the kids to Dorney park all on the bus for free? They use holler on Sunday “Got Sunday inquire newspaper fifty cent Six am in morning in both high rise building? You have be original East falls to remember this family! 1966- 1978!”

>

Desiree wrote:
“I remember Sam’s. I grew up in the East Falls projects in the late 50’s – late 60″s looking to connect to people who was there during this time frame…” Karen: “The Johnson’s I believe.”
>

Ben wrote:
“We played war games on the Sand Pile in the woods.”

>

Terence wrote:
“Yes it was sand and could have shifted at any time and buried someone at any time…..but God allowed us to survive!”

>

Martha wrote:
“Does anyone remember what the heck was the East Falls vs Abbottsford fights were for ? Hell we had to fight the whites just to get to school and we all lived in the projects!”

>

Ben wrote:
“I remember rushing home because 5th district was pursuing East Falls students!”

>

Ben wrote:
“Bob Johnson allowed us to have an art program at Gustine Lake Recreation Center.We got a grant from a black lady on city council – former president of Schuylkill Falls Youth Council.”

>

Gus wrote:

“Recreational Marijuana Legalization”

“Several decades ago I was the 14th Private US Citizen (Non-entity) person to receive a US Justice Department Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) Researcher Registrant Certificate. In part, we (me and employees) performed canine training including and not limited to narcotics detection training, a diverse range of research services, contracted security, high value (money and jewelry) transport and oversight, Department Store(s) Contracted Loss Prevention Services and after business hours security, product sales and volunteer services objectives including and not limited to volunteer K-9 Search and Rescue registered with the Pennsylvania State Police at Troop K. We also performed volunteer services in New Jersey and we supported community events, including and not limited to safety events. Parallel our business operations with on average 42 mostly full time employees; I was full time employed in Pharmaceutical Plant Engineering Departments in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. I am not a pharmaceutical industry proponent. I am a community proponent. I also engaged business research in other nation states.
I perceive a valid enhanced prescription controlled medical marijuana consumption which prevents abuse and diversion by the prescriber, the consumer, the producer – distributor, transporters and the dispensers. I do not perceive a valid recreational marijuana consumption and I view the later as individually and community collective destructive. We posted a Researcher Registrant Certificate image with redactions as a copy and fraud protection.

While the DEA Researcher Certificate notes one of our former corporate business names with my full name as corporation president, at the time of issuance, the DEA advised me that the Researcher Registrant Certificate is solely in my full name and my full responsibility. The DEA Researcher Certificate image is presented as a historic document support for this current subject matter. The Researcher Certificate is not current.

I recently attended a community meeting in Delaware where in part, support for legalized recreational marijuana consumption was presented. In my opinion, the sum of the meeting, which was similar to what I have observed in other forums, presented justification for legal marijuana consumption through likely unintended misinformation, absent information and a physical opportunistic tease for those people in political power to control the upward flow of marijuana consumer money as a gainful means to more exclusive power and the power to distribute revenue as personal political employment longevity beneficial.
I observed vague (at best) discussion regarding the parallel consequences of marijuana consumption including and not limited to persons conduct (self-discipline) while being under the influence of marijuana, no discussion about the parallel money through fines and prison generated through persons being under the influence, no discussion and no address pertaining to elevated exposure to human disenfranchisement and profoundly, no discussion pertaining to the historic and current common practice of blending marijuana with other narcotics and the continuous, persistent pursuit of marijuana consumer and marijuana producers enhancement of marijuana borne THC through hydroponics and other THC enhancement models, long practiced in USA and other nation states.

The intended purpose of any recreational marijuana consumer; admitted or not admitted, is to become under the influence of tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). Without marijuana borne THC, marijuana would be in about as much of a public demand as the weeds in my grass at my Hockessin residence. At the recent marijuana subject meeting in Delaware, I do not recall hearing or otherwise observing the term THC presented even once. THC is treated as the open marijuana secret that if kept secret, favorable legal recreational marijuana consumption access odds rise.
Marijuana blending and specialized marijuana growing processes are designed and specifically intended to exponentially increase marijuana THC potency and the resulting personal narcotic state of being (high).
My experiences both in USA and in other nation states suggest to me that marijuana would absolutely not be consumed if it did not contain the psychotropic chemical component known as THC.

Marijuana blending has been common practice for decades. My first observations of marijuana blending was with hashish intended by the consumer to substantially boost THC narcotic high. Blending marijuana with cocaine, marijuana and crack (cocaine), marijuana with PCP, etc is a popular practice, yet I have not observed blending as any part of the recreational marijuana legalization debate. I was recently (year 2018) in a Pennsylvania Court Room when a person was convicted of operating a vehicle under the influence. Initially, I believed that the Pennsylvania defendant was under the influence of pain medication when she was stopped by police. Subsequently, I learned that the Pennsylvania defendant was under the influence of marijuana blended with embalming fluid. And in a publisized case with trajic consequences for many people including the recreational marijuana-blending consumer; a former famous professional football player who died in prison with a child now without a father and a 40 million dollar contract gone to waste, is reported to have regularly blended marijuana and PCP in addition to reportedly having sustained brain injury through repetitive physical impacts (Reference, http://profootballtalk.nbcsports.com/2016/01/15/cris-carter-specula…). And reference, “killer joints” marijuana blended with PCP (www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3042768/Aaron-Hernandez-Prisoner-W…).
Further, marijuana and embalming fluid blend often referenced as “wet” is common practice. It is increasing difficult to park on certain city streets, much less attend events including movie theaters, where the powerful skunk similar odor of “wet” is not a deterrent for the marijuana consumer. I have also recognized the powerful stench of “wet” in Hockessin, a suburban town. Embalming fluid contains some chemicals widely documented as cancer causing agents. I recently observed a loud street argument where people were complaining that someone cheated them by selling hemp for the same price as marijuana and costing the complaining parties more than twice as much money to get half as high (hemp does not contain as much THC for the equivalent weight of marijuana although the plants are in the same family). Through business objectives that I did not described herein; I found that access to embalming fluid has efficiency evolved since the time periods where we had contracts which included cemetery locations.

In summary, discussions and voting pertaining the legalization of recreational marijuana consumption must evolve with the marijuana consuming demand; not lag behind it or fail to acknowledge the evolution presented through the reality of the continuous pursuit of chemical (artificial) high second to the devastating individual and community collective consequences. The support for recreational marijuana consumption at the expense of the obvious consequences and at the expense of the not so obvious back-door consequences should not lean into or transgress through popular symbolism for votes.
I pray that we do not allow ourselves to be fairy-tale mislead into expanded inequality and human disenfranchisement through the broad consequences, including employment consequences of recreational marijuana consumption. Our attention can progress individual and collective communities if we effort to produce a broad spectrum human equity where everyone can have an opportunity to afford education, skill training, quality health and the pursuit of chemical free happiness.
Thank you for objectively considering my experiences formed opinion.

The above content was submitted by email to Delaware State Representative and the Delaware State Senate through their respective political leadership- relevant committee positions.

On 19 March 2018 Monday, I created and submitted for news paper publishing (delawareonline.com – aka, The News Journal); the following comment pertaining to a news article on the subject of Legalized Recreational Marijuana in the State of Delaware.

In my opinion, some commenter information on this marijuana subject is a mixture of accurate information and critically important inaccurate misunderstanding of fact at best. Marijuana is just a weed. Marijuana consumers use marijuana with the intention of becoming under the influence of the marijuana borne psychotropic chemical known as THC. THC potency is under constant enhancement effort and different forms of THC enhanced marijuana including and not limited to different forms of hydroponic marijuana which uses less utilities than some other marijuana growing techniques is popular along with the common practice of blending marijuana with other narcotics and chemicals. I sent a letter with experiences on this subject that included a redacted copy of my former DEA Researcher Certificate to at least two Delaware Democrats and at least two Delaware Republicans on this subject and I am not surprised that they are still supporting recreational marijuana in some cases and slightly supporting recreational marijuana through this individually and community collective destructive legislation. The letter that I sent to these politicians is on my Facebook Page notes and is public. Money, tax revenue, could be being used, if not exploited through this subject as a bait and switch and slightly veiled political employment longevity enhancement in my opinion. I encountered a person in a different nation state who was acting harm in my opinion and when I appeared to be surprised, she told me “it’s just business.” It is not just business. This recreational marijuana subject is not just business either except perhaps to a favor of individual narcissism. There are many back-doors into human disenfranchisement through legalized recreational marijuana and I believe that these politicians are so aware or they should be while sitting on such a committee. On 04 April 2018 a person will be sentenced (different state) for DUI of marijuana blended with embalming fluid and there are more common marijuana blends. What we are getting from some of our politicians is disservice and wasting time. Legislative Hall could otherwise be dedicated to enhancing public safety, not creating public hazard. Dover could be making effort toward collective economic upgrade of all people through efforts to unite people rather than maintain large segments of the public on a chemically induced state of being high and vulnerable to employment disfranchisement and disenfranchisement through the criminal justice and civil justice institutions. While Delaware has some life quality community collective dedicated politicians; this recreational marijuana debate demonstrates something about the politicians who we elect into positions of power.”

>

Ben wrote:
“Who remembers the Schuylkill Falls Youth Council?”

>

Infitain wrote:
“Some of us are Teachers without taking the Job, some of us take up the Mantle of Security without having a badge, Psychologist without the tittle or degree, Dont worry about the Label or cosign, just DO YOUR JOB.”

>

Martha wrote:
“What ever happened to Gustine Lake?”

>

Kenneth wrote:
“They turned it into ‘The Author Ash’ tennis court.”

>

Michele wrote:
“Candy and her brother Danny had the best house parties – Arnold St.”

>

Kabir Abu wrote:
“Under construction is the Schuylkill Falls development, a modern piece of architecture. The photograph looks west with the presidential apartments in the background. April 20th 1954.”

>

Princess wrote:
“4552 MERRICK Rd 19129 (Mrs.Octavia’s)!”

>

Ben wrote:
“Years ago as a young buck I was told I had to go through the “ROO”,And become a member of Grey Top…The Kangeroo Court was right in front of our crib in the playground.”

>

Martha wrote:
“Hey East Falls Family since a lot of us are reconnecting and we’re all grown now, some features have changed over the years and our memories of childhood friends are lingering so let’s do a Then and Now Photo because I may see you and never know who you are today. I’ll start with this…”

>

Michele wrote:
“I used to take the backtrail to Carmella’s store or walk over the bridge to get down the hill to get to Ridge Ave.”

>

Millie wrte:
“4555 Merrick Road (CARTER)!”

>

Skip Gibson wrote:
“Yo homie! Yo, I Bet u never thought u would hear from me… “Big Skip” even though you probably hate my guts!”

>

Tillik Brock wrote:
“3743 Winona St That Be Me! La Familia, This Thing Of Ours EFF4L!”

>

Michele wrote:
“I remember when they closed the Earlham bldg. how we use to squeeze through the bars to go in units that were still open with gas and heat on, we use to melt crayons on the cast iron radiators when we were kids.”

>

Michelle wrote:
“All Praise to GOD! I am so proud of my daughter Asia who will be first Black women firefighters Paramedics in the Special Operation Company. Taking her final test in swimming. I remember when couldn’t get Asia in the water. Now she swimming in 17 feet.When you plant a seed and fertilizer it with GOD you will grow out of your fears and become a winner. I love you Asia! Mom.”

>

Martha wrote:
“How many of you went to Mifflin and Roxborough High?”

>

Sylvia wrote:
“Yes me and my family lived in 4430 Merrick road 10 years ago and I miss it and I’m going back!”

>

Michelle wrote:
“You like living in poverty level income? I was glad to move out but sad leave my friend. My family was moving on up in income. Did not need government assistance anymore. Praise GOD for the blessings then and now.”

>

Stella wrote:
“4369 Creswell St.. Sooo many memories…!”
“Hi! You must’ve moved in after we moved! You lived next to my Family Beatrice and Melissa Temple?”

>

Melvin wrote:
“I know a lot of people in East Falls made a lot of beautiful friends and still keep in touch where I moved at now app might know five or six people and I’ve been here 19 years.”

>

Hakim wrote:
“Y’all remember the horrible crash that happened at the bottom of the hill?”

>

Shawn wrote:
“I wasn’t there but I know all about it bow was my best friend!”

>

Stella wrote:
“When the boy died and Quinton’s brother was paralyzed? God bless the living and rest the souls of the dead…”

>

Michele wrote:
“I went to East Falls Elementary and Dobson Middle School in Manayunk, than Wagner Jr. High, and graduated from Olney High. Class of 1985.”

>

Tanya wrote:
“My children went to Cook-Wisahickon!”

>

Marsha wrote:

‘The true story!’

“A girl was living with her uncle because her parents died of HIV. She was the only child of her mother’s belly. She was educated by her uncle from kindergarten to class 4 and when the girl was in class 4, her uncle saw that the girl was beautiful. One night, he went to the girl’s room and told her that if she didn’t play with him, he would take her away from home and stop paying her tuition fees. The girl tried to cry for her uncle, but he refused to understand. The young girl agreed to leave her uncle’s place and went to the street suffering, while crying, being hungry, lonely and the last option she had was to get on her knees and pray to God until What God answers to prayer. A woman came by car and saw the young girl pray. She stopped and asked the girl to get in the car. She took the girl and brought her back to school, she bought it all for her as a girl. The girl has completed her studies and, as we speak, she completed her university studies and worked at the world bank. Even you, God can answer your prayers.
I will vote for someone who reads this testimony, because you share this message in 5 different facebook groups, you will never miss tears and excuses this year!
Don’t be heart-free to type “Amen”

17-Year-old girls received a message on “whatsapp” and she didn’t even read the full message. They simply deleted it because she was talking about Jesus. In the message that Jesus said to her, his daughter sends this message because she speaks. Tomorrow may be too late. . The girl with irony laughed and said “what a lie” the next day, she was dead, but before she died, she left a word saying. Never ignore God, for he may not have written it, but he is the one who asked you to test it. . If you love God, type amen and send this message to 5 public groups now… you are on the account! In 30 minutes, something is going to make you happy. Everything in life is detail.”

>

David wrote:
“Growing up in East Falls when those things that was done in the dark, and stayed in the dark, before it was okay to sell drugs openly, women to be with women, men to be with men!”

>

Traci Parnell-Redding wrote:
“My family lived in EF from 1966 to 1974, so I remember starting school. I thought East Falls Elementary was the BEST! I can remember all my teachers!

See how many you remember!

Kindergarten- Ms. Parleigh who would yank the boys by the ears, and had fruit flavored paddles.
1st Grade – Mrs. Blatch
2nd Grade – Mrs. Savitts who didn’t like to wear underwear.
3rd Grade – Mrs. Deahl.
4th Grade – Ms. Weiner the best dressed teacher.
5th Grade – Fiiinne Mr. Edward’s, with the green eyes, who loved Tastykake Lemon Pie.
6th Grade – Mrs. Marlene Kelly Capers who insisted on us practicing to speak with good diction.

And let me not forget our music teacher, Mrs. Cumbo! She took us to see Scrooge (1970 version) and Sounder and she taught us Young Gifted and Black for our 6th grade graduation ???.

>

Desiree wrote:
“Who remembers the Rec center in the projects, down by East Falls elementary School? we used to go there for dances…this was in the early 60’s.”

>

Michelle wrote:
“When we need a oil change for the car every 1,000 mile so it can run smoothly. We read in the Bible one day is 1,000 year for GOD. So we needs GOD today to cleanse us from all unwanted thing from yesterday. Ours clean spirit is important to him. Take the chance today and get yourself cleaned by God. Amen”

>

Desiree wrote:
“I am glad to join this group, never forget where you came from, East Falls Elementary School, Thomas Mifflin Jr. High and Roxborough High class of 1968.”

>

Connell wrote:
“The projects I remember when me and kevin, now my husband; how we went around in ject loving each other outside everywhere wish I could turn back the hands of time I miss you baby peace.”

>

David wrote:
“Remember when me you and my brothers would rock cars, or when we would come over each others houses in the morning when we didn’t have school, and all the other things we did as kids?”

>

Geneva wrote:
“Hoping you all have a wonderful time at the reunion this year. Unfortunately I’ll be recovering from surgery which is this Friday. Keep me in y’all prayers. Much love for my East Falls Family.”

>

I’ve decided to end the listing(s) here:
You, the reader can visit these folks on their “Facebook Network,” titled:
“The East Falls Projects Stories,” albeit, a closed group…
https://www.facebook.com/groups/eastfalls/?multi_permalinks=2405731…
…and
“The Earlham / Creswell Buildings and Low Rises!”
https://www.facebook.com/groups/220524413479/

>

By this time, the entire area was shut-down! The “East Falls Projects” was totally surrounded from top to bottom, front to back along the “Calumet Street” side, the “School House Lane” side, the “Raven-Hill” side, and of course all up and down the “Ridge!”

Salestian was happy to have caught a fresh story and completing it before leaving the area. He’d gotten this story onto the servers as fast as we could speak on it. The shooting began again. The cops were shooting up to the eleventh-floor window while Richard shot down onto them and the automobiles as well. The “Hostage Negotiators” weren’t doing a damned thing until the barrage of media showed on the scene.

“I thank God for these cops,” one woman said as she was being interviewed by one of the reporters from the area network television stations. “Officers are attempting to communicate with the shooter; imploring him to surrender and avoid further injuries. Sources tell CBTV3 that the scene was sheer chaos as officers were taking fire. Video from Chopper 3 shows officers with guns drawn at the scene. “You can hear multiple gun shots!” One reporter said while interviewing and filming the residents and officers on the chaotic scene.

CBTV3 Cameras Capture Volleys Of Gunfire Erupting After 6 Philly Police Where Officers Shot In East Falls!

BREAKING: “We just arrived to Temple University Hospital where multiple officers were transported after being shot in North Philadelphia. It is a very active scene here and we’re working to determine the condition of the officers. At least 5 officers injured!”

The Mayor of Philadelphia, Gwendolyn Finkles said, “The officers were “Brave” and that they needed help with gun control to keep weapons out of criminals’ hands. “Our officers don’t deserve to be shot at for hours and hours on our Philly streets.”

The area transportation, mainly the routes “R,” “61,” “The Casino Bus,” and “Shoppers Special” were detoured or shut down all together. The only way around the scene was “East River Drive” (Kelly Drive) and “Henry Avenue” by way of “Midvale Avenue.” Another television and radio reported:

“Lockdown remains in effect on the Health Sciences Center campus on Henry Avenue, the old Woman’s Medical Site. Shots continue to be fired in the area. Stay indoors away from all windows. We will keep sending regular updates. The Main Campus is not immediately impacted.” Several blocks around the scene have been cordoned off. Most of North Philadelphia’s East Falls area is in gridlock due to the police presence. The scene of the shooting is right down the street from Gustine Lakes. It is a very active scene here and we’re working to determine the condition of all the officers involved. At least 5 officers injured.” @MSCBSPhilly

“Sources tell CBTV3 that the scene was sheer chaos as officers were taking fire. Video from Chopper 3 shows officers with guns drawn at the scene. You can hear multiple gun shots during the shooting scene.”

“Officers are attempting to communicate with the shooter; imploring him to surrender and avoid further injuries. “We have gone from a hostage situation to a barricade,” Philadelphia Police Commissioner Roger Tanex said. “At least six Philadelphia police officers were shot during a gun battle in Philadelphia’s East Falls boardering the “Manayunk” and “Roxborough” sections and rushed to the hospital on Friday afternoon,” authorities say. “Two officers and three others who were trapped inside the home with the shooter are contuing to fight for their very lives as their brothers and sisters in arms, continue keeping pressure on the shooter.”

Captain Willis Samuel and his Sergeant, Warren Jenkins were nowhere to be seen when the commissioner asked for them. They had already gone to the top floor of the building…the 12th floor. When the shooting stopped, the two quietly eased their way into the corridor of the shooting scene. The door was still closed. They could hear the shooter shouting out of the window down to the negotiating officers. He talked of not being responsible for all that has occurred. He blamed the brother-in-law and the interfering cops. He was responding to the negotiators.

The Swat Team had already set up the spying apparatus for peering inside of designated compromised areas or “Hot LZ’s” The snake-like wire was placed under the door of the apartment. It showed the four officers ducking behind an overturned table, while the two that were shot, lay on the floor. They were bleeding pretty badly. They had to get medical attention asap, or they were surely dead.

One of the Swat Officers loaded a C-4 Plastic Pack in the inside and outside groove of the apartment door. The shooter was still paying attention to the negotiators and not to the officers trapped inside. The Swat-Cop lit the wick of the plastic…stood back and grabbed his weapon. The ear-piercing, ear-drum exploding blast boomed with a thunderous bloom…the door went flat and the team rushed inside the apartment. The first thing they did was to rush inside and get the bedroom door closed. They didn’t give a damn about the shooter…they only wanted to get the trapped officers out. They hit the man’s bedroom with teargas and fired shots in and all around that room. The shooter was not hit. He merely cursed aloud and fired back into the closed bedroom door.

They succeeded in getting the cops out. The four were able to get out on their own while the two that were wounded were dragged and then carried out by the rescuing cops. Warren and Samuel rushed into the smoke filled room and attempted to get the shooter out before he was killed. Willis thought about the many times Black Men have been killed by police and not given the chance to surrender. The two brave officers fought through the fog and managed to kick open the door, allowing fresh air to seep into the room. Richard was crying and sobbing…he was praying to God for help and forgiveness. We could hear him plainly praying, “Please O Dear God, please allow Me to get out of this mess that was not my causing…yea, I’m guilty as all hell in shooting them fellas, but I didn’t mean it, I really didn’t!”
I shouted to him from the other room, “Yo Rich, common out man, no one’s going to hurt you! I promise…”

“Oh yeah, y’all are going to kill me just as soon as I come out there! I’m no fool!”

The negotiators shouted loudly through their bullhorns…”Richard, we’ve got the injured officers out…you can put down your weapon and surrender peacefully.” The “war-Zone” intensified as opposed to decelerating. The cops, the hierarchy, truly wanted him dead. Willis intended to do every thing in his power to not let that happen. He knew what the brass wanted…they wanted this crazy, bold, and guilty nigger to be shot all to hell and handed over in a “body-bag!”

Tanex said that the two officers and four others inside the home took fire during the incident. Another officer injured in a car crash on the way to the scene, had to be hospitalized and is in stable condition after the accident. Sources tell CBTV3, the suspect was live-streaming some of the shootout while he barricaded himself inside the apartment building. If he wanted to stay in that room, he very well could have, and the cops would have one hell of a time in getting him out…outside of loading that particular apartment with all kinds of explosives while he, being able to pick off any if not all of the cops on the ground with his highly powered military styled automatic rifle.

Tanex said it was short of a miracle that no officers were killed. “It’s nothing short of a miracle that we don’t have multiple officers killed here today,” the police commissioner said.

While the swat team evacuated the injured and trapped officers, Willis and Warren somehow, got Richard to surrender to them. No one wsa aware of this situation until one of the cops under the building heard the motor of the elevator. She knew full well that no one was supposed to be on it, she cocked her weapon and aimed at the vessels door. As the elevator door slowly opened, the officer began to squeeze on the trigger of her gun. The door completed its opening and to her immediate surprise, out walked Captain Samuel and Sergeant Jenkins. They both of them stepped out of the descended lift car with the suspect in handcuffs. They never fired a shot and brought the suspect down to face justice.
The commissioner scowled as did many of the pool of white officers who wanted vengeance on the shooter. The two cops that took on fire and a couple of slugs, happened to be caucasian. Richard is Black and guilty as charged, according to nearly every cop, witness, and reporter on the scene. Justice must be served…he is supposed to be dead!

CBTV3, as did the other news hawks, and television stations all reported: “All six officers wounded in the shooting have been released and in the hospital. Another officer injured in a car crash on the way to the scene also remains hospitalized.”

While walking the suspect to the waiting transportation van, they had to walk through the sea of angry white; and those who followed suit whether they were white or not – they were the ones who usually went along with the white partner…whatever he or she did was not to be seen or disagreed with. They simply looked the other way and/or nodded in submission and compliance. The captain and the sergeant lead their suspect to the waiting van. The air was full of smoke, noise, hatred, and sinister fury. They kept walking…knowing they had placed themselves in harms way by protecting this man.
Someone loudly and abruptly shouted from within the middle of the fully packed crowd of police and bystanders. A shot rang out, the two cops jumped on their captive, keeping him from harm. The parking lot of the Earlham Building was swarming with running people and cops. The police began to gather many of the young Black youth who happened to be on the scene. Another shot rang out. The captain was hit in the upper back of the left shoulder. They, Willis and Jenkins managed to get the suspect safely into the back of the waiting van just before the captain went down.

The wildly belligerent cops pulled their weapons and began firing at the building into any and all of the apartments. The area was enthralled in a mad frenzy of oozing and slimmy chaos. They were shooting in an uncontrolled frenzy of madness before the commanders got them under control. The sergeant managed to get his captain into his car. He then cautioned subordinates about their actions and ordered them to immediately stand down. They all complied. But then, another shot rang out from above…from the upper floors of the shot-up building…Sergeant Warren Jenkins was hit squarely on the left side of his head. The entire side of his head had been blown clear off, revealing all of what existed under the skin…the underneath became exposed for all to see. The sergeant remained standing. He stood erect, totally still and not breathing…breating as we know it.
He then bent down and made sure his captain was lying safely in the car’s back seat. He intended to get his captain to the hospital as fast as he could, and let no man try and stop him…no one dared. He drove the car at break-neck speed. The nearest hospital was “Roxborough Memorial” on Ridge Avenue…the hospital that used to be close at hand was the Women’s Medical on Henry Avenue. It had been long ago closed to the public and the needs of the public for monetary gain.
The sergeant drove the roaring automobile with the blaring siren and flasing lights into the emergency entrance of the hospital. The staff came to help just as he was pulling the captain from the rear of the unmarked police cruiser. He lifted the captain’s large frame from the car onto a waiting hospital gurney with no effort at all. The emergency room staff could not believe what they were seeing…this tall thinly framed individual picking up the larger man so easily. Before they began to roll the fully conscious captain into the emergency ward, they all gasped as all looked upon the exposed head and face of the loyal and trusted sergeant. His skin was all burned away and melted from the underlying metal and gears. The captain couldn’t believe what he was seeing, forgetting that he was shot and bleeding, blurted out, “Damn…Jenkins, I didn’t know…I didn’t know that you are a god-damned robot!”

The sergeant didn’t reply. He turned and started for the door. He stopped and turned back to look at his captain, his friend and said, “Before you dismiss me from the job, I have the one thing that can identify the shooter who shot you. I have the bullet.” He reached into his metallic mouth, reaching down into his lower jaw area, on the left, and came out with the slug that tore off his face. He handed the pristine bullet to the captain. “You can identify the shooter who shot you with this projectile…I’ll be on my way now…be well Willis.” Warren turned once again to leave. The captain looked at the attending doctor who wanted to rush him into surgery. He returned the gaze. The doctor said to the sergeant, “You’d better stay and let me check you out. Just give me a hand in getting this man into the examination room so that I can locate the bullet that’s still in his back. Then I’ll take care of you.”

The captain waved for him to come back and stay with him, to help him and keep him safe. “Sergeant, if they made one attempt, they’ll make another knowing they missed…not succeeding in eliminating the target. You know like I know, this was an inside job.”

Ricardo “Lil Ricky” Paniero, the “West Philly Capo, Button/Hit Man,” was talking on his cell phone while walking to his car…away from the hospital on Ridge Avenue.

Til Next Time…

“G”

Next, Chapter 10: “Payback Can Be A Bitch”

“FAIRMOUNT”…Terror In The Park”
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B076G976LX/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch…

“SHAMAN”
http://shamanretold.blogspot.com/

~”FAIRMOUNT” – The Series: Pt. 1 ‘Strawberry Mansion’~
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/15/fairmount-the-series-p…

“Willis Samuel Investigaations”
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=%E2%80%…(Pt.+7)+~+%E2%80%9CLoose+Ends!%E2%80%9D+~

http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/search.cgi?processSearch=1&keywords=wil…

*/

>

~ “Three Laws Safe” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2019/01/31/three-laws-safe/
http://hbcu.com/content/340536/three-laws-safe

‘The Platforms of “Boulware Publications, Data Information, and Entertainment Enterprises”
~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
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~The Connect Platform~
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http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=64…

“Amazon”
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http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter”
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG
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ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
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>

…For Your Edification:

All Ten Chapters of “FAIRMOUNT” The Series:

~“FAIRMOUNT” – The Series~
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com

Pt. 1: ‘Strawberry Mansion’
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/15/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 2: “Smith Playground In North Philly”~
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/26/part-2-of-fairmount-th…

Pt. 3: ‘A Sweet Briar License’
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 4: ‘A Pillar of Salt’
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/12/25/fairmount-part-four-a-…

Pt. 5: ‘The Myrtlewood Street Funeral’~
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2016/02/18/67/

Pt. 6: “Physical Alterations”
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2016/12/01/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 7: ‘That Damned River’
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/06/20/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 8: ‘The Rush’ of “34th St. and Girard Avenue”
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/the-rush-of-34th-st-an…

Pt. 9: “Captains – Philly Style!”
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/08/21/captains-philly-style/

Pt. 10: ~‘A Tacony Civilian Affair’~
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/10/29/a-tacony-civilian-affa…

>>>

Links to Willis Samuel Investigations:

…For Your Edification:

All Ten Chapters of “FAIRMOUNT” The Series:

~“FAIRMOUNT” – The Series~

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com

Pt. 1: ‘Strawberry Mansion’

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/15/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 2: “Smith Playground In North Philly”~

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/26/part-2-of-fairmount-th…

Pt. 3: ‘A Sweet Briar License’

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 4: ‘A Pillar of Salt’

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/12/25/fairmount-part-four-a-…

Pt. 5: ‘The Myrtlewood Street Funeral’~

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2016/02/18/67/

Pt. 6: “Physical Alterations”

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2016/12/01/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 7: ‘That Damned River’

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/06/20/fairmount-the-series-p…

Pt. 8: ‘The Rush’ of “34th St. and Girard Avenue”

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/the-rush-of-34th-st-an…

Pt. 9: “Captains – Philly Style!”

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/08/21/captains-philly-style/

Pt. 10: ~‘A Tacony Civilian Affair’~

https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2017/10/29/a-tacony-civilian-affa…

>>>

All Eight Chapters of “FAIRMOUNT” The Willis Samuel Investigations:

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/search.cgi?pro…

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt.1)

~ “A Four Cornered Phling” ~

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/332195/willis-…

>

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt.2)

~ “The AR-15 Incident” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/333201/the-ar-…

http://blackinamerica.com/content/333201/the-ar-15-incident-pt-2-wi…

>

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt.3)

~ “Bus Drivers Do It At Their Stops!” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/333230/bus-dri…

>

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt.4)

~ “Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold!” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/333689/willis-…

>

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt. 5)

~ “A Career Voiding Dance of Tomorrow” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/334330/fairmou…

>

“Fairmount” – ‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt. 6)

~ “Without A Trace” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/335026/fairmou…

http://hbcu.com/content/335026/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigatio…

>

Fairmount: ‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt. 7)

~ “Loose Ends!” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/09/26/fairmount-will…

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/336010/fairmou…

>

Fairmount: ‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Part 8)

“A Reckoning Is A Coming”

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/fairmount-the-ser…

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2019/07/31/fairmount-the-…

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/content/350315/fairmou…

*/

 

 

 

 

 

~ “Ichabod” ~

 

/*

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/ichabod

 

Raymond rode into the sleepy village at the dawn of Friday. It was a dismal rainy morning fraught with muddied roads and green colored slimy walls of timber, grass, hay, and bamboo rooftops. It was nearing the time of the winter harvest feast. Albeit, the season hinted of cold and wetness, the early October morn, brought a tingled air of change. The big war was nearing completion with the announcement of freedom in these parts. Boston had seen the war up close…many of the young men had not returned as promised. Many young widows wept as they cradled young children to their bosoms. The townsfolk went about their daily routines as if nothing was happening in the world with the exception of what was occurring in this “Sleepy Hollow” of a burb just outside of ‘Boston, Massachusetts.’ The white settlers paid him no attention. The stares came from those who looked liked him. Black Slavery was still the law of the land even after the story and promise of freedom loomed across the horizon.

September twenty-second, eighteen-sixty-two, brought word of an “Emancipation Proclamation” from the president of these United States of America. Here, up North, the practice of slavery was kept on the down-low…it was a “hush-hush” kind of thing. Everyone knew who held slaves as well as those who didn’t. The same held true for those who supported slavery as well as those who did not. The majority of the white population supported the idea of abolition and freedom. The country was experiencing “Reconstruction” and it most certainly was a dangerous time for Blacks, free and not-free alike.

Raymond didn’t use his surname except when pressured to do so. In cases whereas he is questioned by people who didn’t look like him…he then used the name of “Raymond Mulvaney,” his slave name. Ramond was taught very well. His reading and writing would readily compare to that of a college professor or highly educated teacher of sorts. Not only did he master the English language through the tutelage of former owner, but through that of one “Ichabod Crane.” He was a wandering teacher roaming throughout the northern region of the country teaching for his lodgings and meals as he ventured forth.

On the shores of the “Hudson River,” many a Dutch navigator dropped sail and hunkered down to a pint and liquors at the nearby Inns of such places as this, “Tarry Town.” Thought to be one of the quietest places in the world, in a small valley not far from here, lies a listless repose of such a place known as “Sleepy Hollow.” It’s name arose from the housewives of the villagers in New York’s Tarry Town. It is described as the little valley in the high hills. On a typical day, one could only hear the murmurings of the small brook thereabouts with the wailing winds carrying the whistle of wild quail and the tapping of busy woodpeckers going about their business.
Twilight superstitions abound with tales of an old Indian Chief laying a curse upon the land because it was always used as the site for ‘Powwows’ and sacred rituals by the neighboring tribes along the valley. Many a settler in the region has boasted of hearing strange sounds, voices, and sometimes hauntingly musical rhythms of drums and fife along the way…especially during the harvest time of the season. The Dutch say it’s the “Hessian Soldier” who rides his black horse during the dead of night. They say that the soldier was killed during the revolutionary war. His head had been blown off by a cannonball while cannon-fire littered the land with the dead bodies of young and old soldiers fighting in the war. This particular horseman was said to have been protected by a witches spell. Commonly believed to be cursed by the ‘Old Indian Chief Wizard’ for the invasion of Indian land and the wide spread diseases brought by the European settlers that have decimated the land, annihilating his people. He, the Hessian Invader, is supposed to have immortality…if he was killed, he would become one of the undead walking the land…in his case, a “Headless Horseman.”
He is known to be in search of his missing head while riding through the night(s). Should a living soul be captured by the rider, he would forfeit his head for that of the one that went missing…and be back in his tomb before the break of day. This haunted hunting ritual occurred on a nightly basis if a captured head is disliked…and discarded for that of a replacement; until satisfied. Then the spectre would stay resting until the next season’s hunting expedition.

Raymond paid no mind to the tale as it was told to him by a young Black Woman who hungered for the knowledge he promised. They have all heard of this strange teacher named ‘Ichabod.’ They have all heard of the strange and hauntingly bizarre tales of his disappearance…his way with words and methodical manner in teaching techniques.

“Mr. Crane was a Connecticut native. He was exceedingly tall and lanky. His long arms hung down from his narrow shoulders with extra-long hands that hung way out of his sleeves. His big wide and long flat feet could readily be used for digging tools…shovels!
Atop his long skinny neck stood a small head. It was flat on top while entertaining large elephant-like ears. The over-sized orbs of glassy-green, sat on one side and the other, of a long corpulent and aquiline nose. The way they all sat together, one could not avoid in the mind’s image, that of a six-foot-four buzzard when striding down the road. On a windy day, a person could use him for a weather-vane, telling the direction of the wind in his baggy loose fitting clothing.
The building that was assigned to Ichabod in those days was an old, yet modest one-room school-house. It stood just inside of a tree-filled hillside along-side a calmingly boisterous brook on the outer edge of the village. In the summer time, that would be nearly the only noise that could be heard outside of the whistling bird-life and fluttering butterflies, and murmuring whispering voices of children about their studies. The winter times allowed no such sounds…only the wind and the Owls outside the windows and door. While it was (still) forbidden to teach the Black children, Ichabod found a way. Twilight was the perfect time to attend to those young ones…nine o’clock was the perfect time to attend to the ones of European descent (as well as avoiding the suspicions of the villagers). His not getting started prior to that time would infringe upon his ability to get or meet the morning meals offered throughout the growing tiny village…after midnight, the older (Black) generation took advantage of the golden opportunity. All hoped and prayed that they would never, ever be exposed.

It appeared that Ichabod hardly slept. During the after school hours, he’d hang out with the local older boys, especially if they had friendly mothers, widowed mothers, and/or good-looking sisters and cousins. He made it his business to keep on the good side of his pupils for want and need of ample unlimited food and winter lodgings. He generally owned only the threads on his back and the leather around his feet. He did own the tired old nag of a horse that transported him around and about.

He helped out around the many farms in the village as well. These aids were afforded on the weekends when school was out. He had to feast on those days as well. Nearly everything was bartered for and traded in those days…money was very scarce.

Ichabod got along well with the church community as well. He sang and taught music lessons of various available instrumentation. They only had a few musical tools in the village; a flute/fife, a drum, a bugle, a violin, a guitar, a harmonica/harp, and a piano. He offered them singing lessons too. A lot of behinds were kissed in order to maintain the lavish lifestyle to which he had become accustomed…at least until it was time to move on to the next town, village, or sleepy hollow.

As funny-looking as he was, Ichabod had his pick of the village women…the young and not-so-young single ones as well as the widowed. Divorce was unheard of then. They all thought this man was worldly and well educated…as compared to the plentiful selection of dull, un-interesting, un-educated country bumpkins available around and about in this little “Sleepy Hollow.”

Ichabod is admired for his reading of books and knowledge of history and story-telling. He could recite poetry and quote ‘Shakespeare’ and ‘Aristotle.’ He was regarded as a man of many talents, wisdom, knowledge; a erudite.

The evening hours after work held an enjoyable time for the master teacher. The drinks continually poured while he lavished in abound the companionship of the local herdsmen and farmers. They too thought highly of him. Tales of darkness were often told during these visits with the village men. They liked to entertaining themselves with tales of horror and scariness over draughts and spirits before heading home…in the early thick darkness of the winter months.

“Phantoms, demons, and boogie-men” often were evaded by the entrance of morning…should one be fortunate enough in surviving the night and making it to then.

On one such night as described, Ichabod found favor in the eye of one of the young ladies during a church recital. The flowering young Miss was the betrothed of another. He was one of the young fellows who felt slighted by his young lady’s attentions and affection towards the skinny free-loading school teacher.
Ichabod paid little to no attention, the looming threat of this jilted lover. He was only seized upon the moment of infatuation and temptation; the soft and warm looking flesh of this tender morsel, so desperately desiring to be sampled and enjoyed.

“Oh foolish the heart toward the sex,” with the aid of his close friends, the jilted lover set into motion a plan that would end this so-called rivalry once and forever…

Ichabod not only savored the thought of making love to the young rich woman, all of eighteen years, he realized the possibilities of marrying into this, such an abundance of wealth. The patriarch was completely self-sufficient in his farmlands. He needed nor desired anything beyond its boundaries. His only happiness was the luxuriousness of his wealth and the broad spread of the treasures within the realm of his farmlands and stronghold.
Ichabod was enraptured while favoring the dream of having the cake and eating it too. The life style of this rich Dutch-like abode was of a man’s fancied dreams and final desires…along with the beautiful and desirable young maiden of the land.

The driving force that kept him afloat, the availability of courting many women…he became focused on only one…the only one who could fulfill his life of luxury and complete contentment was right before his eyes…he could see nothing else. He pondered the challenge of “how to win her…this prize among prizes?”

While Ichabod entertained the household with song and story, on that particular cold dark and damp winter evening in October…it was getting late, very late!

The jilted lover was once the “eye-apparent” of the rich and available young lady in question. He was the village hero who broke wild stallions, was the best in a bare knuckle fight, the strongest and most handsome man around for miles. All of the young ladies in the village admired and possibly adored him. He also only had eyes for one. It was almost certain that she would most certainly become his bride…without question or pause. That is, until this despicable interloper arrived in this fair shire.
No one dared challenge this formidable suiter for the fair young maiden’s affections…especially when his horse could readily be seen tethered at the household on Saturday and Sunday nights. He was formally welcomed and encouraged by the family as well as this beautiful and wholesome young woman.

…Until Ichabod came to call.

The jilted young rival did not wish it known, his plans for making this opponent to go completely away. The jilted lover sabotaged the school on numerous occasions. They caused the singing students and their master to be sickened with smoke inhalation when he and his friends stopped up the exhaust chimney at the school one evening. The school had been ransacked again and again in attempts to get rid of the schoolmaster; to scare him off. When it became apparent that Ichabod was not welcome in the shire because of the jilted lover’s anger, he was openly challenged and ridiculed at every turn. Ichabod couldn’t walk down the street in peace because the village gang would taunt him and call him filthy names while accusing him of free-loading. It also became apparent to the young lady in question as well of what was transpiring against Ichabod.

One afternoon, the scholars were all busy with their books and lessons while the schoolmaster sat atop his lofty teaching stool which allowed him to gaze over the entire room and beyond the window panes. The classroom was all a buzz when suddenly a horse and rider appeared. When it got close enough to identify, the ragged pony bore to weight, a small but wiry old Black Man.
The man got off his horse and clambered up the stoops of the schoolhouse, knocking upon the outer door. Ichabod motioned for one of the children to open it, allowing the gentleman entry into the classroom. When he entered, the Black Man greeted the familiar schoolmaster with a warm smile and handed him the note he held in his right hand while the left held his hat.
The man bid Ichabod farewell and departed the same way as he arrived. Ichabod read the note and smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to make the party to which he was formerly invited. It was Friday…school was dismissed a half-hour early this day in anticipation to this evenings events.

Ichabod prepared himself as best he could. The lack of financial repose has managed to leave him with very little by way of wardrobe and formal attire. He brushed off an old black suit with frayed edges and cuffs. He washed the old beaten up boots he wore when traveling the country-side with boot-black. He borrowed that from one of the townsfolk he was residing with. His old brown horse was tired and dragging his ass like that of the old black plow horse to which he begged of the land lord. For some unknown reason it was called “Gunpowder.” He must have been some kind of a horse back-in-the-day because he looked at Ichabod like he wanted to eat him.

Riding Gunpowder was another game all its own. The saddle had burr holes in it, the under blanket was ragged and tattered with large holes and snags, and the shortened stirrups didn’t help either. His knees came up to his chest and punched him in the chin with every step the horse managed to gather.

The schoolmaster was indeed a sight to behold. He brushed off the laughter and whispering of the shire-folk who weren’t invited to the illustrious gathering. He lost himself in the wonders of the Autumn evening, its fragrances of the hillside, the fall colors of leaves falling from the trees, and the changing flowers along the way to the riches and abundance of the wealthy homestead. Could it be possible that he may become betrothed to the most beautiful and richest young lady in the valley?

“Oh what heavenly blessings await me.” he thought aloud. The horse simply clanked and clunked along the roadway. The thought of food came to mind…“oh what a full belly I’ll have tonight!” he smiled to himself as he arrived at the main gateway of the ranch.

The evening wore on with joyous laughter and revelry. The singing, eating, drinking, and dancing seemed like it would never end, going on for hours upon hours. At one point, the men all seemed to wander into another room in another section of the house. It held a massive fireplace with horns of dead animals hanging from the brick encrusted walls. The trophies told stories of bear, deer, moose, wild hogs, and a host of birds and fowl filling the void in between the larger displays.

The men all held large glasses of dark ruby red port and fine fat cigars that smoked up the opulence of the entire room. Everyone had a short story to tell. Some of them told of evil deeds while some told of good deeds and blessings of good news and prosperity.
Then there were those of haunting(s), witchcraft, and evil deviltry…

Several of the men told of Indian curses and demonic wizardry. Then it was the turn of the jilted lover to tell his tale. He told of the war and the blown off head of the Hessian soldier who rode a majestic black stallion. For some unknown reason, the hair on Ichabod’s neck began to stiffen and stand straight up. He began to feel the chill of the night even while standing quite closely to the roaring fire in the massive fireplace.

The jilted lover told of how he was chased by this headless apparition… He told of how the thing had almost caught him.

“If it wasn’t for the speed of my horse, I might not be sitting here discussing this tale with the likes of you fine gentlemen!”

He spoke of how the horse of the Hessian was upon his neck…so close that he could feel the hot fire-like breath of hell; the smelling of cinders and ash; hearing the bubbling of hellfire cauldrons boiling the liquid of death in its’ throat…eternal death. He spake of the Godless shrills made by the ghosted hunter in the black of night during this chase for life!

“I then felt the hand of the Hessian upon the collar of my shirt and coat. On my neck I could feel the bony hand of death as it clutched away at me! He laughed and screeched a death-dealing scream just as he lunged and missed for the last attempt. I ducked under the gripping clutching skeletal limbs covered in black garment as they left hot burning scratches…scarring my neck to this very day! Oh so lucky was I to get away with the God-sent speed of my gallant and trusted steed that I am here with you all this very day!” He said. The jilted lover wiped his sweating brow and slugged a large swallow of grog, chased with a splash of clear liquid spirits. He turned to Ichabod in a cold glassy death warning stare and said…
“Don’t go out into the blackness this night…t’was a night such as this that the headless horseman shall ride! It’ll take more than manly mettle to survive the race of death…the race with the death-dealing hunter of heads! Dare not venture into the night if you value your life!”

It was already nearing two-o’clock in the morning with light snow falling. The men all looked over their shoulders and saw the main house lights go dark. The families, many had already departed for home. The remaining company were all men…the men who indulged in the private cigar and port soirée…

Several of the remaining gentlemen shared their carriages with one another…the jilted lover had been gone for at least twenty minutes or more after bidding the hosts a fond goodnight. Ichabod was the only single man left at the doorway.
His horse was agitated beyond description. It simply did not want to go…they had to go…they had to venture out into the night as no good gentleman spends the night at the domicile of a virginal young and innocent lady. There were no extra rooms to be had or offered by the young woman’s parents, other family and guests had full occupancy of vacancies throughout the premises.

Ichabod reluctantly bade the family farewell and forced his trusted old steed out into the darkened wet and pitch-black night…the trip back into the village…back to the loneliness of the schoolhouse. The grog and spirits seemed to have vacated him. He was drunk from the consumption of wine, beer, food and spirits. He had consumed plenty…he thought, more than anyone there; left him void of happiness and contentment…the affects of the drink abandoned him. He was left to face the journey stone-cold sober and deathly afraid.

There was no music to hum to…he could not think of a single verse or rhyme to uplift his spirit for the long journey home. There was no sound of horse hoof pounding or the clattering wagon and cart wheels abounding forth from the farm towards the village. The blackened night was deathly silent. There was no sound of the owl or of any other fowl. No insect clicking or rustling leaves to be heard…anywhere. The falling of soft white snow flakes was the only sound to be heard, if any.

Just ahead, a short distance down the road, lay a covered bridge of oaks and chestnut, matted thickly together by old grape and wild vines. A cavernous gloom fell all around man and horse alike. Ichabod gave the frightened horse a bunch of kicks to the bony ribs of the horror frozen animal. Its’ eyes ablaze with the glaze of madness as it attempted to dash quickly across the scantly fashioned bridge. The horse instead missed the landing and fell short of the entrance-way of the ill-shaped bridge. They stood there frozen in disbelief as they scrambled up out of the thicket of bramble bush and muck alongside the makeshift crossing apparatus. They started forward once again. Then suddenly without warning the animal came to a complete stop. Its’ rider nearly fell forward off the front of the horses face, sprawling back into the muddy road surface. At that same moment, the large darkened shape and shadow of something caught the squinting eyes of Ichabod and his companion. The blackened thing did not move. It just stood there not making a sound. They couldn’t quite make out the shape as it towered like that of some misshapen behemoth waiting for orders to pounce upon any would be traveler seeking to cross this particular bridge. Summoning all of the inner courage and power left in his frightened body, Ichabod shouted out…

“Good evening my friend! Are you having difficulty in crossing such a bridge with such a large mount as yours?” He assumed it was a rider and horse when he heard the jet-black animal snort and stamp the ground with one of its’ front hooves.

The dark rider offered no reply.

Ichabod made another attempt at getting old Gunpowder to move forward onto the bridge. The attempt was almost futile. The horse would not move. The black rider’s horse made another move with the other hoof, striking the ground even harder than the previous gesture.

Then, with a mighty kick, the crestfallen schoolmaster urged his steed forward, nearly breaking a rid or two. The old horse moved reluctantly forward. They made sure to pass on the other side of the bridge so as not to make contact with the mysteriously huge rider and mount. Every hair on the man and animal stood erect, to needle-point attention. Ichabod began to sing. He didn’t know what song to sing, nor did he know what he was singing as he shut his eyes upon approaching the statuesque figure who now stood directly in the middle of the roadway.

Once it was realized the road was blocked, Ichabod and his trusty steed made a complete about face once they attempted to pass by the dark rider and his larger than life, black as night, muscular horse. They started out with a brisk and lively trot…the dark rider and horse matched their pace as they came ever closer. Then Ichabod and steed broke into a full gallop in a desperate attempt at breaking free of this unwanted shadow of a monster. They galloped as if their very lived depended on it! Realizing that they couldn’t outrun their unwanted company, they slowed to a quickened pace. The dark rider did the same…just a few yards behind. When they stopped, it stopped. When they moved forward, it also moved forward.
When they came upon a hilly rise in the roadway, they could easily see the full figure of the shadowed stranger and mount. The full figure of this traveling non-talker, came into view against the backdrop of light which bounced a reflection from upon the glaze of the creek water below. The rider was huge in stature as was his black full muscled steed. He and Gunpowder were no match for this large figure of a man without a head! They realized the horror stories were indeed true…true to life as they are witnessing up close and in living color! Ichabod could readily see that the black rider was actually carrying a head. It was perched upon the saddle-horn or the pommel of his saddle…what struck the most fear into the traveling duo was the fact that the head was alive…it’s widened eyes glared at them without uttering a single word!
Then the head screamed! It screamed such an un-Godly, un-Holy scream that it surely reached the heavens above…despite this cold dank and dangerous darkness of night.

Ichabod rained desperate blows and kicks upon Gunpowder in order to get him moving at a full and life saving gallop. He hoped to gain some distance between him and the headless Hessian…wishful thinking…to no avail. Ichabod’s terror continued to rise. His fright, now reaching beyond desperation, only imagining giving the stranger the slip when they reached a patch of shaded trees. Just before the green knoll of the churchyard, they crossed the famous church bridge. Ichabod’s trusted steed seemed to be possessed by a demon when they plunged headfirst into a downhill fall, giving the unskilled rider an apparent advantage during the chase, they rolled for a few feet and managed to get back upright into a very quick and steadfast gallop across the churchyard.
Just when they got halfway up and through the hollow, they could feel the girths of the saddle loosening. The straps gave way and slipped off. Ichabod had one chance to regain his grip and composure…he reached for the mane of his horse and grabbed him around the neck and hung on for dear life just as he felt the saddle slip away from under him. Slipping to one side and then the other, Ichabod managed to hang on. Hope arose as they saw and scrambled for an opening in the trees ahead.

“If we can just make the bridge on the other side of the church yard, we’ll be safe.” He thought aloud, shouting into the left ear of Gunpowder. Then the inevitable occurred, after he had given Gunpowder another convulsive kick in the ribs, he envisioned freedom and safety…it was not to be. The black stallion with its’ rider clearly in control, Ichabod could feel the hot breathe blowing down the back of his neck. He heard the black steed blowing and panting close behind them. Gunpowder thundered over the resounding planks of the wooden bridge. With an insane gesture of desperation, he peered over his left shoulder when they reached the opposite side of the bridge. They hoped their pursuer would vanish in a puff of smoke, maybe into a flash of fire and brimstone, simply disappearing into nothingness…it was not to be. Ichabod saw the rider raise over his head the screaming, mouth foaming and frothing face of the hobgoblin…it looked like, it appeared to be that of a real live pumpkin that was aflame…engulfed in the fires of hell. The rider raised the thing and tossed it directly at the head of Ichabod. He tried to duck, causing the head to miss him. The endeavor was pointless. The marksman hit his target with direct and precise precision… The flaming projectile made a direct hit. It hit Ichabod with a flashing and thunderous explosion as it splattered into a million pieces, knocking Gunpowder’s rider from his back and headlong into the muck and mire of the messy moor. Gunpowder continued his gallop to freedom with the black steed and its rider in hot pursuit. They passed Ichabod with the whirling speed of the wind.

The headless horseman returned to the spot were Ichabod lay in the mud. The monstrous black steed bellowed and raised up onto its hind legs, while the headless Hessian cracked a whirling black whip.

All of the villagers gathered at the schoolhouse the next morning in anticipation of the schoolmaster’s opening bell ringing. It was not to be heard on this morning. Gunpowder was in his stable, shaken and unnerved with many scratches on his hide. He wore no saddle or bridle straps…there was no blanket on his back either. No one knew of the whereabouts of the dear school teacher.

The townsfolk put forth a search. They found the ripped saddle and the broken bridle about a mile away from where hoof prints deeply set in the earth surrounding the remnants of a rather large and broken pumpkin. The brook was searched as was the entire area for miles around. The remains of Ichabod were nowhere to be found.

It’s been said that Ichabod simply kept running away and found refuge in the lands and homes of another church-like community. That was never proven. The jilted rival never hesitated in regaining his position in the household of his once betrothed. That knot was ties rather quickly after the assumed fate and disappearance of Ichabod Crane.

The tale of the headless Hessian only bloomed to a higher level of acceptance. No one ventured out alone at night ever again. The schoolhouse was deserted and soon fell into decayed rotting wood and fibre and mulch…only good for plant and crop composting.

Travelers came, visited, and passed through the lively out of the way shire, many have said that they’ve heard voices out on the moor and varied times of the season…some even said that they heard a voice that sounded like that of Ichabod singing in the distance. That remains to be seen.”

Raymond had just completed his story when a thunderous knock came upon the door, followed by the explosive entrance of angry townsfolk and “Slave Catchers!”

Raymond’s owner went missing one morning when the young slave was just reaching puberty. He was treated like that of many young male captives from Africa. He was whipped when he didn’t give in to the overseer on the plantation. He vowed that he would run the very next time that anyone laid a hand on him.

One winter morning, Raymond was out in the field working with the plantation owner. For some unforeseen reason he began to whip Raymond with a saddle whip… The slave master was out in the field working with his newly purchased wheat chopper/hay baling machine. The baling machine chopped grass, wheat, and hay for the farmer(s) (while being pulled by horses) and baled the material up as it passed over the stalks. Its a bit before its time, but a highly desirable farming tool. The last time the slave owner was seen was when he went to chasing Raymond while his new machine was running…it was found to be operating alone. There was no one running the damned thing…the plantation owner simply disappeared. The livestock that year appeared to be truly fattened and contented when they were gathered and brought in for examination.

Raymond was also nowhere to be found either.

Years later, Raymond was found up North, teaching at a college in New York City.

When Raymond returned to the South Carolina Plantation in an attempt to free all those he left behind upon his venturing into the strange new world. His successful adventures led him back to his people, in attempts at freeing them – mentally, physically, and spiritually, all over and across the country.

The townsfolk in the then tiny New England Territories, didn’t like uppity northern niggers to come around teaching their darkies how to read and write. They sighted Raymond, locked him up and many threatened to drag him out and lynch him in front of the courthouse for all to bare witness.

When his friends up north got wind of Raymond’s dilemma, they quickly scrambled, assembling everyone they knew that could and would venture southward in a rescue of their studious and illustrious Black friend, teacher, and colleague. Just before their arrival to the small and secretive village, the previous night proved them to be a bit late in the rescue attempt.

A small band of townsmen and their new found friends (the slave-catchers), managed to sneak Raymond out of the jailhouse. They had him roped and gagged when they dragged him into the waiting horse and wagon tethered out back of the jail. Little did they know, the “Law Keeper” in the village was alerted that two young children had not returned from the nine o’clock hayride. They were thirteen and fourteen year old white kids. The marshal was busy gathering a posse to search for the missing teens. Meanwhile, someone caught up to the hanging party and informed them of the missing kids. They were momentarily distracted from their mission. They all turned to listen to the news and alert when a few Black folk sneaked up and slashed the ropes on Raymond, freeing him in a swift swoop of the machete, the young teacher was set free. When the hangmen turned to find him gone, they froze like statues when they heard the un-Godly sound of a shrilling shriek. It seemed to be coming from all around them. No one could pinpoint the exact location or direction of the strange noise. It came closer and closer. The hangmen were suddenly all very terrified…they feared for their very lives as they all of a sudden realized that they were out on the moor in the dark of night.
A light flashed and vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The group of six men were suddenly bombarded with the splashing of bloody body parts. They couldn’t for the moment figure out what the gooey substances were. Then one of them realized that they were the body parts of the missing young white juveniles to whom the town was in search of. They all panicked and began to run back toward the village. They left behind the horses and wagon in which they had originally arrived. They all ran on foot as fast as they could. It did them no good…then the light appeared again along with the un-Godly screech and screaming! They found themselves under attack…the attacker could not be evaded. One by one, the hangmen all vanished into the dark moonless night of death and wanton destruction.

Raymond also heard the screams of death and the death-dealer as his horse galloped closer and closer to him and his escaping friends. The scared and running Raymond could not keep up with his rescuers as they all fled. He unthinkingly took a look back, tripped and fell into the ravine alongside the old church bridge. The monstrous spectre of the horseman was suddenly upon him… The over-sized blackened monster horse whined and raised up on its hind legs, towering over the hapless teacher…he saw the face and head of his mentor...It was Ichabod who sat upon the black stallion of the night!

As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.

The villagers reported sightings of the headless horseman in the distance that night. Many were in disbelief. They shrugged it all off and called it an old wives tale…a “Halloween Fantasy!”

Only the people who resided in that region knew that the horseman would return every year at this time. While Raymond remains alive and well, telling his version of the adventure of a lifetime…to all those who would listen and possibly believe.

 

End.

 

 

Til Next Time…

“G”

References and Acknowledgements:

Based upon a story by:

‘Mr. Washington Irving’
“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/LegSle.shtml

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Fairmount-The Wills Samuel Investigations, The Series: Part 8: “A Reckoning Is A Coming”

“FAIRMOUNT”

The Series:

The Willis Samuel Investigations

Part 8:

“A Reckoning Is A Coming”

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

Part 8:
“A Reckoning Is A Coming”

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/fairmount-the-series-the-willis-samuel-investigations-part-8-a

“How am I supposed to feel when shit like this hits the fan nearly each and every fuckin day!?”  Samuel thought aloud while alone in his office…

“Damn, investigations; committees and committees over them. The senseless onslaught of killing continues. On top of all that, another law enforcement oversight committee is considering legislation measures that could bring police conduct under control.” Willis thought to himself as he sat down behind his large paper and file cluttered desk; in his large overstuffed high-backed leather chair.

Giancarlo Miller, a Black Congressman, made an announcement that made reference to or as “The Law Enforcement and Integrity Act” in the House of State Representatives the other day. The inclusion of one measure in ‘Philly’ would ensure the appointment of city commissioners with the approval of City Council and State House Reps.
The Chairman of the Black, Puerto Rican, Asian, and Hispanic/Latino Caucus in the state assembly, announced an upcoming meeting which will introduce new legislation to be known as “The Africanus Diallo Amani Law,” which analyses an outlines police reform(s) nationwide.
This new law would require city police to be bona-fide residents of the city in which they serve. The law also includes diversity training while removing the rule allowing officers not to speak about their actions forty (40) hours after a police involved event has occurred.

“The National Black Alliance Network,” headed by the Reverend Lemuel Sharsman, is also considering legislative measures…introducing legislation at local, state, and federal levels to “check all acts of police brutality across the nation, let alone here in our own city.”
One such act was committed by four white officers who are accused of brutality when they shot to death an unarmed Black Man in the doorway of his apartment building a little while back. Sharsman urged Black Legislators to understand that “Africa is their continent and that Africans in the United States who number more than five million in our city, would and will stand together to fight for justice against injustice and the “blind eye(s) that aids it!”
He also said that he was assured that ambassadors from African Nations such as “Sierra Leone,” in the U.S. will also join in the support for the fight for justice.

Everyone seemed to agree that the law would tackle problems like racial profiling, death while in police custody, and drug testing among other related issues.

Another endorsement came from the Reverend James Jackson Matthews. He is also the head of an organization involved in the struggle known as “The Southern Council For Civil Rights” (SCFCF). They want all of the participants in the struggle to completely understand that the “White Nation” views our fight for justice as some sort of a sport or game…a contest guaranteeing a difficult episode…guaranteeing that all players will surely come out soiled and dirty.
The killing of “Diallo Amani” has opened a massive golden window…an opportunity for people of color to make an effective demand for change as observed by another Black Congressman, ‘Owen Majors.’

“This killing – This brutal murder has united our people and people across racial and religious divides. This development should be used as a means of coming together – uniting us one and all in this intrepid yet indefatigable pursuit of justice!”

Congressman Majors continued to suggest that a week in April be declared “A Week of Outrage!” He says this action should be organized all across the country, bringing cities to their knees, making a very strong case for change.
The congressman reminded people of the 1992 beating of a Black Man…‘Rodney King.’ He was beaten by White Los Angeles Cops.

“Fifty-five people died protesting against a jury verdict that acquitted the cops involved in the attack which was captured on video tape…on film!
Did it matter? Did it matter to law enforcement? This beating…this shooting…this practice is simply only one part of a pattern of American authority designed to oppress Blackmen…to keep “Them/Us” in our place!”
The congressman cited figures and statistics backing up his statements. He said, at the same time that states across the country have reduced education budgets while increasing funds for the prison industry.

The trial of the acquitted cops was closely followed by people of color across the globe. The cops contended they all fired in self-defense after ‘Amani’ reached for what they said was a gun. The object in question was the young Man’s wallet. He was shot and struck by bullets more than nineteen times. It was reported that the young Black Man died in a barrage of forty-one bullets…police bullets!

Willis’s thoughts were interrupted with an unsuspecting knock upon the door.

“A nickel for your thoughts Captain? …I thought I’d up the anti from a penny.” Sally smiled, he didn’t.

“Just remembering some shit I’d like to forget.”

Sally replied, “I hear ya Bro. It’s like a bad dream that never goes away or stops biting on ya.”

Willis stood up and stretched. A man who was much larger than his visitor who weighed in at about one-hundred and sixty pounds sopping wet. Willis carried an older two-hundred and forty-two pounds – a healthy lean six foot individual floating around in his late fifties.

“I can’t get over this case of the African Brother who was killed by police…a case of pure over-kill.
This young brother simply believed this place was a place that he could come to and be free and safe…where police are your protector; your friend, where justice could be done.
This brother came from a place where human rights are constantly violated, arbitrary arrests and tortures are committed on a daily basis, extra judicial killings remain common placed, entire families often times disappear where many are never seen again.
The city had to put out big bucks in over-time when the marches and demonstrations took place…many people got hurt – Black People!
Amanis’ family seemed very appreciative for the support of the people – there was irony where the department was concerned though…they defended the exonerated cops who were responsible for the death while offering a half-baked apology!
His parents told Me of the shared dream of coming to America. Now he is remembered as a shy young man, devoted to his Mother and Father, his studies, his relatives, and friends.
Now, he is another symbol, a statistic of police brutality and/or racial stereotyping in the annals of justice, I should say non-justice.
His father said they will put tiles on his grave when they bury him next to his Grandfather in Africa. Y’know that man was the first man in his village of two-hundred people who made the trek to ‘Mecca.’ His mother and father told Me that when I visited. I couldn’t help but notice how close and tight the “Holy Qur’an” was held by his father.
I have gone over this event over and over again in my mind…I can’t get it out of my head; my heart and soul aches for him and all the other Young Black Men who have perished by the hands…the bullets of police in this country. But for the life of Me Sally, I simply can’t…the one major thing – the question that keeps coming back in my mind is why? Why shoot this kid over forty-one times? Sometimes Brother, it gets really hard to hold the line on where your loyalties should be...”Human Rights, Democracy, it’s for whites only – or at least for those with the means to afford it…being able to defend themselves whether innocent or being guilty as hell.”

“Yeah Cap, I feel ya.”

The Philadelphia Sunny Globe Newspaper Reporter, Salestion Michaels,  sat down in the chair in front of Willis’ desk with a large sigh of sadness and despair. His face darkened his high-brown-complection (some identify his skin color as “High-Yellow” or “Red-Bone”) with the weight of sorrow.

“I kind of hate to lay this on you Captain Samuel, especially at a time like this…”

The captain trained a listening eye on the newspaper reporter.

“It’s apparent that you haven’t been apprised…haven’t gotten the report, the call yet.” said Sally.

“Okay, spill it dude, I’ve got things to do…”

“Remember that ole’ case I was working on awhile back…the report that I did on the “Kelpians” and their society, the cult out in the “Chestnut Hill” area?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m here to tell ya, not only did the case not go away, it never resulted in a closing… The missing kids were never found. I never let the story go, I stayed on it even when it went cold…two more kids went missing. I got this just an hour ago. They vanished into thin air!
The kids were waiting at the school bus stop. They were waiting for the school bus to the “Y.M.C.A.‘s after school activities and programs. Their parents called ‘The Y’ to confirm their arrival, just like they’ve always done… The kids were not there. They did not check in! They weren’t on the bus…some of their classmates stated they saw them get into a blue Ford Maxi-van that had “YMCA” markings on it.
The ‘Y’ people said they have no such van…only the bus.

…Where are these missing kids?”

Til Next Time…

“G”

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Next:

Part 9:
“The Games Afoot!”

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~ “Three Laws Safe” ~

/*

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

“Do Robots Dream?”

“Do They Have Souls?”

“Sorry…we cannot sell or pump gas at this time.” “The computers are down”, “we can’t get anything to work.” “Can you come back later?”

I can remember the words of Our Brother, ‘Marvin Gaye,’ “What’s Going On?” “Thing’s Ain’t What They Used To Be…Mercy, Mercy Me!”

Many of us have PC’s in our homes today. And there are many others who feel they are, and believe they are a step ahead while utilizing home-robots like “Alexa” or IBM’S “Watson” and a myriad of cloned devices that clean, monitor, and coordinate their daily lives or lifestyles.

Where’s your cell phone?

Do you remember the scene in the movie “Star Wars,” where the bar-tender shouts at ‘Luke Skywalker’ to get his droids out of his establishment?
That scene is a result of human prejudices against machines or robot-kind. Detroit, Michigan’s automobile industry and workforce is all but totally manned by robots (or robotics). Robots are doing major operations on humans and animals alike. Robots are preparing foods, packing and shipping items, driving cars, and diagnosing human ailments and diseases. Robots are answering telephones and redirecting calls. Robots are calling you on your telephones, reminding you of past due bills, appointments, prescription pick-ups, and making attempts at selling you goods and other services. Robots are building bridges, buildings, and homes. Robots are doing just about anything and everything a human or animal can and has been doing. Ask yourself…how many jobs have been lost and are being lost to robots?

“Many companies are using sentiment analysis to gauge the mood(s) on social networks and/or the web…but getting insight takes new tactics and skills,” said Doug Henschen of ‘Techweb.’

LAW I:
“A ‘Robot’ may not injure a ‘Human Being’ or, through inaction, allow a Human Being to come to harm.”

LAW II:
“A ‘Robot’ must obey orders given it by ‘Human Beings’ except where such orders would conflict with the first law.”

LAW III:
“A ‘Robot’ must protect its’ own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second law.”

Technology is defined as the knowledge of tools and crafts. It is a broad view or concept that deals with human inventions, intervention, and the ability to adapt and control of a particular environment. The clock has a form of control over the way we react to time, i.e., cause and effect. Technology can also be construed as material objects in use by humans such as machines and devices that involve systems, techniques, and/or methods of organization. Do humans control computers or do computers control humans? Why is the question germane to this topic? View my article: “Device Machine Dependent!” (It has been removed from the EzineMagazine posting site)

But…where is the law in preventing a robot from taking a human’s job; replacing human kind?

Robotics are everywhere these days…they are in the operating room, the automobile industry, the restaurants, the hotels, communications – pick up a telephone and see if you are speaking with a human or robot…they control the flow of Internet operations, traffic, trains, and many forms of transportation, i.e., air travel…flights coming and going; albeit, human flight engineers are still needed as supervisional controllers…

If you haven’t been able to read the article which was originally posted to the magazine site, It is re-posted to this posting for your edification…as well as it not disappearing from existence altogether:

“Device Machine Dependent”

“Sorry…we cannot sell or pump gas at this time.” “The computers are down”, “we can’t get anything to work.” “Can you come back later?”

Haven’t we all, at one time or another, experienced waiting in line at retail, wholesale, and/or any given checkout counter where everything stops when the computers fail? Didn’t you wish the operators of these devices could use a (for those who can remember) portable calculator, abacus, or something that will get the line moving and allow you to leave with your purchase? How about using a plain ole pencil and paper?

“Sorry…We can’t write you a receipt, the computer knows all of the prices and keeps inventory as well as who I am, the date, time, transaction number, my station number, and the store location number.” We are at the mercy and dependence of computers and machines that do all and most of what we used to do, as well as the things that we don’t do.

While perusing through some tech articles, mags, and reports of several major tech info media, I came across an advertisement that I could not ignore. It depicted a giant or larger than man-sized robot. This robot was seated like the statue of “The Thinking Man”; one of Auguste Rodin’s most famous sculptures, the “Thinker Statue.” The Thinker was part of a commission by the Museum of Decorative Arts in Paris to sculpt a monumental door based on The Divine Comedy of Dante (Dante’s Inferno). The image of the robot was an advertisement for anti-virus software protection. Remember the “Good Book?” Remember the first book of “Moses”, (the “King James Version”) called “GENESIS”, chp.1, para.26; “and GOD said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.”

The image of the robot was man-like. Albeit, the image appeared to personify a particular type of person or a particular race of human being; should it have? The robot had blue eyes; a pointed elongated nose, a broad and deep eye-socketed brow, and the physical characteristics of a long and lean structure. The similarities were unmistakably that of the European Caucasian male. I wondered why. The word power entered my mind; “Let us make things in our image, after our likeness.”

ESET NOD32 Antivirus’ advertisement reminded me of a story written by Isaac Asimov. The anti-virus caption stated “we’ve been told only the most knowledgeable IT managers have heard of us”. Mr. Asomov’s story, “I ROBOT”, is probably recently known by the 2004, movie by 20th Century Fox. The story was also depicted in the 1960’s TV series “The Twilight Zone”, created and narrated by Mr. Rod Serling. Albeit, the TV show starred several “persons of color” This practice is not out of the norm for many moviemakers. Some believe that people of color either weren’t thought of or the existence is or will be non-existent. Why is that? The perceived non-contribution to science and the world economy by people of color is questionable as well. i.e., the movie “Logan’s’ Run.”

Many robot images in science fiction stories and movies are depicted with expressionless, non-human-like features; even though many of them are crafted with eyes and mouths. It could be assumed the representation of eyes, ears, and mouths are a comfort-zone interface designed to allow human beings the benefit of comradery with these service-provider machines. But why is it

we characterize or model the seemingly most intelligent-looking centralized robot appear to be copied after the image of one particular race of people? Is it the intention to “create in the image of its creator?” Was it not the Asian Scientists that created, produced, and perfected the first humanoid robot? Was it not recorded as such? Do you ever wonder, which came first, the chicken or the egg?

What would you do or how have you reacted when you realized that you’d left your cell-phone at home; or worse, you’ve lost it? How about the crashing of your computer? Your TV doesn’t work because the computer component of something or other on its’ motherboard went capluwie? Oh no! The cable-TV system is down! The computerized micro-wave stopped working, the computerized washing machine and dryer stopped working, the computerized automobile stopped working, the computerized radio isn’t working and you can’t get the news, the MAC machine doesn’t work and you can’t access your funds for cash purposes and/or transactions, the telephone doesn’t work, the lights and heat stopped working, and what ever else relies on computer controlled operations or power?

Have you ever seen “Colossus,The Forbin Project?” It’s a movie where a master computer and its on-line rival compute and eventually control the future and demise of mankind. And heaven-forbid that we lose the Internet! What would you do? How do we function? Do we go back to the old fashioned, simpler way of life? Are we willing to barter or trade? Are we willing to re-learn to use paper and pen, the abacus (how many of us know how to use it?), and/or are we ready willing and able to utilize our financial reports by way of the hand-written ledger again?

The next time that you’re standing in line awaiting purchase checkout; with all of the devices, instruments, and all of the technological tools at our disposure, remember, we will still face the inevitable confrontation of “Sorry…we cannot sell or pump gas at this time.” “The computers are down, we can’t get anything to work.” “Can you come back later?”

>

Now, what about the television system(s), streaming, the rating process? How many shows have been broadcast regarding killer robots or robotics, and the movies…how many times have you gone out to view movies about robots and/or androids, i.e., “Alien,” “I Robot,” “Colossus,The Forbin Project,” and the latest movie(s) about renegade machines run amok, “The Drone,” “The Transformers,” or “Mr. Robot?”

They are taking away the pleasure and ability to drive our cars…the automobile industry seems to love that – remedy!?

Is it possible that robots can cure the sexual desires of the sexual predators who walk amongst us? Can they cure the common cold…are robots delivering our babies in the delivery room…would you be comfortable with a robot giving you a physical; Looking down you throat or up your anus during a physical exam? They have been pretty popular among those men who desire the companionship of women, who for whatever reason can’t or simply do not want or desire the difficulties or challenges of the human woman…would they replace the woman as they appear to be replacing the man in his ever changing attitude(s) toward utter and complete power.

The truth is…there is nothing that we can do about this evolution, this new life form, this cure-all for Mankind. The robot has without a doubt, proven to be a most useful tool and asset to technology as it is…will there ever come a day when we would not have to do a damned thing for ourselves…would we loose the desire (or possibly, the ability) to do anything for ourselves in this fast approaching future; a future that is apparently NOW?

You have the ability to judge for yourself…for now.

 

…Til Next Time.

“G”

 

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’
~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-books-by-boulware
New BCID: 823-13940945
http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945
New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

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References/Acknowledgments:

Marvin Gaye:
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=marvin+gaye

Isaac Asimov:
Aka, “Isaak Judah Ozimov” of Petrovichi
Shtetl, near Smolensk, Russia…
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=Isaac+Asimov

“AI” Of Human-Kind
http://ezinearticles.com/?AI-Of-Human-Kind&id=9927310

“The Platform On The Cloud”
http://ezinearticles.com/?The-Platform-On-The-Cloud&id=5458157

“Internet SOS – Save Our Systems”
http://ezinearticles.com/?Internet-SOS—Save-Our-Systems&id=4481594

“IT and BI”
http://ezinearticles.com/?IT-and-BI&id=714057

“Device Machine Dependent”
http://devicemachinedependent.blogspot.com/
(Previously posted to EzineArticles – for some reason, it has been removed, (5.19.8))
http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Gregory_V._Boulware
https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=A0geK.ZmFlNclTsA6yNXNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTFhNTRqcWc4BGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDQjY4ODFfMQRzZWMDcGFnaW5hdGlvbg–?p=device+machine+dependent&pz=10&ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&bct=0&b=1&pz=10&bct=0&xargs=0
Saturday, November 7, 2009
“Device Machine Dependent”
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

“We the Matrix”
https://ezinearticles.com/?We-the-Matrix&id=3251674

“We The Matrix”

Search Results for “Device Machine Dependent”
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/search.cgi?processSearch=1&keywords=Device+Machine+Dependent&go=Search

~ “Device Machine Dependent” ~
http://hbcu.com/content/288853/device-machine-dependent
“Sorry…we cannot sell or pump gas at this time.” “The computers are down”, “we can’t get anything to work.” “Can you come back later?” Haven’t we all, at one time or another, experienced waiting in line at ret…
Page Last Updated: 01/23/2016

~ “AI”…of Human-kind ~
http://hbcu.com/content/334105/ai-of-human-kind
~ “AI”…of Human-kind ~ By Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. http://ezinearticles.com/?AI-Of-Human-Kind&id=9927310 “Which Came First, The Chicken Or The Egg?” Several years ago, you may recall a publication …
Page Last Updated: 04/26/2018

~ ‘Internet SOS’ – “Save Our Systems” ~
http://hbcu.com/content/326528/internet-sos-save-our-systems
‘Internet SOS’ – “Save Our Systems” By Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. http://ezinearticles.com/?Internet-SOS—Save-Our-Systems&id=4481594 https://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 June…
Page Last Updated: 08/02/2017

“Craplets and Software Junk”
http://hbcu.com/content/219630/craplets-and-software-junk
“Craplets and Software Junk” By Gregory V. Boulware 5.8.11 A poem danced around for a while in my mind…It said something about a tree. Is there nothing as lovely as a tree? While pondering and reminiscing my co…
Page Last Updated: 09/14/2011

‘Amazon’
“The One Thing I Know is…How To Understand Information Technology?”

“Anthology of An Essayist” – Volume II: Total Comprehensive Compositions: Total Comprehensive Compositions (Volume 2)

“Robot Movies”
https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video;_ylt=AwrEzed7IlNcFO0AVS1XNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTEyY2pjZm9hBGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDQjY4ODFfMQRzZWMDc2M-?p=robot+movies+of+2019&fr=crmas

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