William L. Ingram's Blog: Author William L. Ingram's Blog, page 3
November 23, 2020
Excerpt: Chapter 4 ALTERED STATE page 58 - 60 (Nov. 22, 1963)
Excerpt: Chapter 4 ALTERED STATE page 58 (Nov. 22, 1963) Finding Heaven In The Dark, A Memoir by William L. Ingram
On November 22, I stayed home for a rest. I wasn’t deathly ill,
but I had a cold. My attendance had been good, and I convinced
myself that I needed time off. I was still in my pajamas and robe
when I heard a knock at the back door. It was a minister from Shiloh
Baptist Church. He had come to give my mother a “love offering” of
money for playing the piano for choir rehearsal.
My mother struggled to maintain some semblance of emotional
and mental equilibrium. She was in deep pain, and all her medications
couldn’t touch it. She hadn’t gotten out of bed much during that
week, and I think some of her friends were concerned about her. The
reverend had come by to counsel and pray for her, if she would speak
with him.
Ma pulled herself together, and soon she and the reverend were
having a cup of tea in the kitchen. I could faintly hear their voices as I sipped my tea and watched television in the living room. All
three channels were covering the president’s visit to Dallas, Texas.
President John F. Kennedy was on a tour of the Southern states for
the Democratic party to shore up support for his reelection run.
Along with the president in Dallas was Vice President Lyndon
Johnson—a native son of Texas and a long-time Democratic power
broker.
President Kennedy was a relatively young man. He and his lovely
wife, Jacqueline, worked hard to win the respect and admiration of
most Americans and others around the world. His run for the nomination
and presidency against Richard Nixon was the first political
campaign that I had any interest in. The drama of the scion from a
New England family was captivating; he was a war hero, married to
an elegant, lovely lady. When the subtle bigotry against Catholicism
was factored (which made Kennedy an underdog), the stage was set
for a nail-biting election.
The leader of the free world and his lovely wife rode in an open
limousine; they acknowledged adoring citizens and spectators that
lined their journey. Suddenly, the presidential motorcade sped up and
left the plaza in confusion and disarray.
“The president has been shot!” the correspondent exclaimed. Few
generations had ever heard these words in their lifetimes.
Then, almost as if to confirm his own disbelief, the reporter
announced the news grievously: “President Kennedy has been shot.”
I echoed his words loudly and without thinking. “The President’s
been shot!”
Ma and the reverend stopped their conversation in the kitchen
and hovered by the stairs at the edge of the living room. We watched
silently as Walter Cronkite and others recounted the events of the past
few minutes. It was a surreal experience that I knew millions of others
were experiencing simultaneously. My mother cried softly, and
the reverend dabbed at his eyes; he kept saying, “I can’t believe it,” as
he shook his head.
Soon, the reverend departed, and ma returned to the dark comfort
of her room. I continued to watch the black-and-white images on the
TV screen, mesmerized by the events of living history parading
before me. Before long came the famous moment when Walter Cronkite removed his eyeglasses and stated, as calmly and professionally
as possible, that President Kennedy was dead.
Like the rest of the nation and the world, I watched the events of
the next few days unfold and spill into our lives via TV and radio. I
followed every twist and turn as authorities and reporters worked
tirelessly to piece together fragments of clues into a picture that we
tried to make sense of.
Lee Harvey Oswald was captured, and his wife and mother were
interviewed. Then, Jack Ruby thrust himself into the national nightmare
as we anxiously watched the president’s alleged killer being
transported from the Dallas jailhouse to his arraignment. Clearly visible
to all viewers, Jack Ruby pumped bullets into the body of
Oswald! Oswald died, and Ruby was jailed. The conspiracy theories
evolved exponentially— like germs—dividing and subdividing as
soon as they were born.
Other images swirled around in the vortex of that terrible time:
the swearing in of Vice President Johnson as President of the United
States; the former first lady, Mrs. Kennedy, in her still blood-splattered
dress at the hurried induction; and later, Mrs. Kennedy, in dignified
elegance with her children by her side, viewing the passing
casket of the nation’s president before a still-stunned world.
Excerpt: Chapter 4 ALTERED STATE page 58 (Nov. 22, 1963) Finding Heaven In The Dark, A Memoir by William L. Ingram
On November 22, I stayed home for a rest. I wasn’t deathly ill,
but I had a cold. My attendance had been good, and I convinced
myself that I needed time off. I was still in my pajamas and robe
when I heard a knock at the back door. It was a minister from Shiloh
Baptist Church. He had come to give my mother a “love offering” of
money for playing the piano for choir rehearsal.
My mother struggled to maintain some semblance of emotional
and mental equilibrium. She was in deep pain, and all her medications
couldn’t touch it. She hadn’t gotten out of bed much during that
week, and I think some of her friends were concerned about her. The
reverend had come by to counsel and pray for her, if she would speak
with him.
Ma pulled herself together, and soon she and the reverend were
having a cup of tea in the kitchen. I could faintly hear their voices as I sipped my tea and watched television in the living room. All
three channels were covering the president’s visit to Dallas, Texas.
President John F. Kennedy was on a tour of the Southern states for
the Democratic party to shore up support for his reelection run.
Along with the president in Dallas was Vice President Lyndon
Johnson—a native son of Texas and a long-time Democratic power
broker.
President Kennedy was a relatively young man. He and his lovely
wife, Jacqueline, worked hard to win the respect and admiration of
most Americans and others around the world. His run for the nomination
and presidency against Richard Nixon was the first political
campaign that I had any interest in. The drama of the scion from a
New England family was captivating; he was a war hero, married to
an elegant, lovely lady. When the subtle bigotry against Catholicism
was factored (which made Kennedy an underdog), the stage was set
for a nail-biting election.
The leader of the free world and his lovely wife rode in an open
limousine; they acknowledged adoring citizens and spectators that
lined their journey. Suddenly, the presidential motorcade sped up and
left the plaza in confusion and disarray.
“The president has been shot!” the correspondent exclaimed. Few
generations had ever heard these words in their lifetimes.
Then, almost as if to confirm his own disbelief, the reporter
announced the news grievously: “President Kennedy has been shot.”
I echoed his words loudly and without thinking. “The President’s
been shot!”
Ma and the reverend stopped their conversation in the kitchen
and hovered by the stairs at the edge of the living room. We watched
silently as Walter Cronkite and others recounted the events of the past
few minutes. It was a surreal experience that I knew millions of others
were experiencing simultaneously. My mother cried softly, and
the reverend dabbed at his eyes; he kept saying, “I can’t believe it,” as
he shook his head.
Soon, the reverend departed, and ma returned to the dark comfort
of her room. I continued to watch the black-and-white images on the
TV screen, mesmerized by the events of living history parading
before me. Before long came the famous moment when Walter Cronkite removed his eyeglasses and stated, as calmly and professionally
as possible, that President Kennedy was dead.
Like the rest of the nation and the world, I watched the events of
the next few days unfold and spill into our lives via TV and radio. I
followed every twist and turn as authorities and reporters worked
tirelessly to piece together fragments of clues into a picture that we
tried to make sense of.
Lee Harvey Oswald was captured, and his wife and mother were
interviewed. Then, Jack Ruby thrust himself into the national nightmare
as we anxiously watched the president’s alleged killer being
transported from the Dallas jailhouse to his arraignment. Clearly visible
to all viewers, Jack Ruby pumped bullets into the body of
Oswald! Oswald died, and Ruby was jailed. The conspiracy theories
evolved exponentially— like germs—dividing and subdividing as
soon as they were born.
Other images swirled around in the vortex of that terrible time:
the swearing in of Vice President Johnson as President of the United
States; the former first lady, Mrs. Kennedy, in her still blood-splattered
dress at the hurried induction; and later, Mrs. Kennedy, in dignified
elegance with her children by her side, viewing the passing
casket of the nation’s president before a still-stunned world.
Excerpt: Chapter 4 ALTERED STATE page 58 (Nov. 22, 1963) Finding Heaven In The Dark, A Memoir by William L. Ingram
Excerpt: Chapter 4 ALTERED STATE page 58 - 60 (Nov. 22, 1963)
Excerpt: Chapter 4 ALTERED STATE page 58 (Nov. 22, 1963) Finding Heaven In The Dark, A Memoir by William L. Ingram��
November 4, 2020
THE AUTHOR SPEAKS ABOUT WRITING - FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK
THE AUTHOR SPEAKS ABOUT WRITING - FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK
FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK is my memoir of my early years as a Black youth, of the post World War II baby boom generation. Fatherless, surrounded by secrets and lies, I struggled with quiet rage and a confused life view that eventually led to my self-destructive rebellion and desertion from the U.S. Marine Corps in 1967!
My odyssey towards self-discovery took place during the tumultuous 1960’s in America, when the entire country was being redefined by a cultural revolution among its’ youth, a civil rights revolution for equal rights for Black Americans, and the growing national nightmare of The Vietnam War.
With only the compelling story of my search for identity as a young man and a Black American, I wouldn’t have considered writing a memoir. The oft used phrase that “everyone has a story to tell” might be true, but not all stories are worth sharing. I thought my story was different because of my search for a meaning to life and answers to human natures puzzles. Even with that being said I still resisted writing about my journey because of the embarrassing elements that I had to reveal about myself. I had willingly shared my early life difficulties with others over the years, but exposing myself to the public at large seemed frightening. I always did believe that my story could have tremendous value for the right person so I did begin the arduous process of putting pen to paper during a month long visit to Florida in the Winter of 2006.
The actual writing was cathartic as it flowed from my fertile memory. I wrote in a linear style that started with my early years. As a youth who loved reading and was a better than average speller I was pleased with my early efforts. Then I packed everything away until the same time the next year! Over the years, as an actual manuscript began to take shape, I sought professional guidance and attended a 3 hour writing course by a traveling author and her husband. Her most treasured advice to the class I felt was to avoid rereading the previous days writing. She encouraged us to write the entire story before going back to reread and make changes. Her other advise was to turn my memoir into a novel because it would be easier to market. I knew she was correct, but after some hesitation I was committed to writing a memoir.
William L. Ingram/ Author
FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK is my memoir of my early years as a Black youth, of the post World War II baby boom generation. Fatherless, surrounded by secrets and lies, I struggled with quiet rage and a confused life view that eventually led to my self-destructive rebellion and desertion from the U.S. Marine Corps in 1967!
My odyssey towards self-discovery took place during the tumultuous 1960’s in America, when the entire country was being redefined by a cultural revolution among its’ youth, a civil rights revolution for equal rights for Black Americans, and the growing national nightmare of The Vietnam War.
With only the compelling story of my search for identity as a young man and a Black American, I wouldn’t have considered writing a memoir. The oft used phrase that “everyone has a story to tell” might be true, but not all stories are worth sharing. I thought my story was different because of my search for a meaning to life and answers to human natures puzzles. Even with that being said I still resisted writing about my journey because of the embarrassing elements that I had to reveal about myself. I had willingly shared my early life difficulties with others over the years, but exposing myself to the public at large seemed frightening. I always did believe that my story could have tremendous value for the right person so I did begin the arduous process of putting pen to paper during a month long visit to Florida in the Winter of 2006.
The actual writing was cathartic as it flowed from my fertile memory. I wrote in a linear style that started with my early years. As a youth who loved reading and was a better than average speller I was pleased with my early efforts. Then I packed everything away until the same time the next year! Over the years, as an actual manuscript began to take shape, I sought professional guidance and attended a 3 hour writing course by a traveling author and her husband. Her most treasured advice to the class I felt was to avoid rereading the previous days writing. She encouraged us to write the entire story before going back to reread and make changes. Her other advise was to turn my memoir into a novel because it would be easier to market. I knew she was correct, but after some hesitation I was committed to writing a memoir.
William L. Ingram/ Author
November 2, 2020
THE AUTHOR SPEAKS ABOUT WRITING - FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK
THE AUTHOR SPEAKS ABOUT WRITING - FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK - A MEMOIR ABOUT LIFE'S MEANING
October 13, 2020
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 8
FINDING HEAVEN IN THE DARK - A MEMOIR
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 8 - ALMOST HEAVEN - page 151
(Author Comments: This is one of my favorite reminiscences. "STOP THE WORLD, I WANT TO GET OFF!" finally became a reality for me once I stopped trying to run from myself and began learning to appreciate the present.)
I fit in right away. I was a young pair of hands and legs that Brothers Brett and Johnson prayed for. The mission was my temporary refuge from my world of confusion and fear. I knew I was a fugitive, and I feared each day that my whereabouts would be discovered. Everyone would consider me an unpatriotic liar and coward! But I suppressed my fears, and devoted myself to being helpful and eventually, indispensable.
Emil took me under his wing immediately. He was delighted to have an eager apprentice with a hungry mind. He needed help preparing the evening soup, because all he got from his usual volunteers was a full helping of complaining. “You’re a good boy. You don’t complain about working in the kitchen. The others only want to fill their bellies and not do much work,” he said almost every day of the first week since I joined the mission.
Emil was German and Swedish stock. He had well-muscled, white arms covered with the same white hair as on his head and eyebrows. I concluded that he had been a nice-looking man in his earlier years, before drink took its toll. After years of wear and tear—beneath his big, bushy, eyebrows and jowly cheeks—was a kindly expression that made me feel comfortable.
He showed me how to peel vegetables for his soup, and open number-ten (“10”) cans of vegetables, if we didn’t have enough fresh produce. Emil was a real chef for most of his adult life, I learned. Although he wasn’t one to sit around and talk about himself, I gleaned a lot of information from him during the course of a normal day.
In fact, I learned more from the workers at the mission than from all the people I’d known in the past. These men taught me about the fragility of human beings. They were not like those I knew who tried desperately to conceal weaknesses beneath bluff and bravado.
The mission workers were all broken vessels, people who were damaged during their journeys. Then, they found themselves at one of society’s waste dumps. They were the reason I felt so at home. I finally found a place where I didn’t have to fit in, because fitting in wasn’t required on skid row. I learned to keep my mouth shut and listen. I communicated with my ears and eyes, because facial expressions reveal volumes about us.
Peeling vegetables in the mission kitchen became therapeutic for me. I peeled veggies into a garbage pail alongside a large pot of cold water. Potatoes, carrots, purple-top turnips, onions, rutabagas, and parsnips were among the produce I came to know intimately. I handled these vegetables with respect. It was a small, yet significant awakening, a spiritual connection. I had not known this feeling before. The irony of drawing such satisfaction from peeling vegetables wasn’t lost on me. As a fugitive, I joyfully performed tasks that I had resisted during my last acts of defiance at Camp Lejeune.
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 8 - ALMOST HEAVEN - page 151
(Author Comments: This is one of my favorite reminiscences. "STOP THE WORLD, I WANT TO GET OFF!" finally became a reality for me once I stopped trying to run from myself and began learning to appreciate the present.)
I fit in right away. I was a young pair of hands and legs that Brothers Brett and Johnson prayed for. The mission was my temporary refuge from my world of confusion and fear. I knew I was a fugitive, and I feared each day that my whereabouts would be discovered. Everyone would consider me an unpatriotic liar and coward! But I suppressed my fears, and devoted myself to being helpful and eventually, indispensable.
Emil took me under his wing immediately. He was delighted to have an eager apprentice with a hungry mind. He needed help preparing the evening soup, because all he got from his usual volunteers was a full helping of complaining. “You’re a good boy. You don’t complain about working in the kitchen. The others only want to fill their bellies and not do much work,” he said almost every day of the first week since I joined the mission.
Emil was German and Swedish stock. He had well-muscled, white arms covered with the same white hair as on his head and eyebrows. I concluded that he had been a nice-looking man in his earlier years, before drink took its toll. After years of wear and tear—beneath his big, bushy, eyebrows and jowly cheeks—was a kindly expression that made me feel comfortable.
He showed me how to peel vegetables for his soup, and open number-ten (“10”) cans of vegetables, if we didn’t have enough fresh produce. Emil was a real chef for most of his adult life, I learned. Although he wasn’t one to sit around and talk about himself, I gleaned a lot of information from him during the course of a normal day.
In fact, I learned more from the workers at the mission than from all the people I’d known in the past. These men taught me about the fragility of human beings. They were not like those I knew who tried desperately to conceal weaknesses beneath bluff and bravado.
The mission workers were all broken vessels, people who were damaged during their journeys. Then, they found themselves at one of society’s waste dumps. They were the reason I felt so at home. I finally found a place where I didn’t have to fit in, because fitting in wasn’t required on skid row. I learned to keep my mouth shut and listen. I communicated with my ears and eyes, because facial expressions reveal volumes about us.
Peeling vegetables in the mission kitchen became therapeutic for me. I peeled veggies into a garbage pail alongside a large pot of cold water. Potatoes, carrots, purple-top turnips, onions, rutabagas, and parsnips were among the produce I came to know intimately. I handled these vegetables with respect. It was a small, yet significant awakening, a spiritual connection. I had not known this feeling before. The irony of drawing such satisfaction from peeling vegetables wasn’t lost on me. As a fugitive, I joyfully performed tasks that I had resisted during my last acts of defiance at Camp Lejeune.
October 1, 2020
CHAPTER 1 HARD TIME - Spring1970
CHAPTER 1 HARD TIME - Spring1970
Excerpt page 4
As we stood at attention, at the intake for INDOC, we certainly looked like a motley bunch. We were the losers—the non-hackers— as we used to say of those who couldn’t make it. We each joined the Marine Corps, survived and graduated basic training, and were assigned an MOS (Military Occupational Specialty). What went wrong after this point was each man’s story.
Some of my peers had gone to the war in South Vietnam (the “Nam”), and returned broken and confused. Others were struggling with (or surrendered to) addictions to drugs or alcohol. Then, there was the usual complement of “bad eggs.” Those guys had a knack for staying in trouble by fighting or stealing.
Then, there was me. Perhaps the only convict who wanted to be there. I was the oddball of the group. I was a black marine, who was obviously fat and out of shape. My large Afro hairstyle was cut to regulation length several weeks earlier. With my soft, mushy features and relatively placid expression, I didn’t look anything like a US Marine. I was twenty-one-years old, and one of the oldest in the group. I was more civilian than marine.
I made lots of wrong choices in my young life. Now, my maturity gave me a different life view from most others. I wanted to be there, because I had done the crime and must do the time. Even with the right attitude, it didn’t take long for me to screw up.
Excerpt page 4
As we stood at attention, at the intake for INDOC, we certainly looked like a motley bunch. We were the losers—the non-hackers— as we used to say of those who couldn’t make it. We each joined the Marine Corps, survived and graduated basic training, and were assigned an MOS (Military Occupational Specialty). What went wrong after this point was each man’s story.
Some of my peers had gone to the war in South Vietnam (the “Nam”), and returned broken and confused. Others were struggling with (or surrendered to) addictions to drugs or alcohol. Then, there was the usual complement of “bad eggs.” Those guys had a knack for staying in trouble by fighting or stealing.
Then, there was me. Perhaps the only convict who wanted to be there. I was the oddball of the group. I was a black marine, who was obviously fat and out of shape. My large Afro hairstyle was cut to regulation length several weeks earlier. With my soft, mushy features and relatively placid expression, I didn’t look anything like a US Marine. I was twenty-one-years old, and one of the oldest in the group. I was more civilian than marine.
I made lots of wrong choices in my young life. Now, my maturity gave me a different life view from most others. I wanted to be there, because I had done the crime and must do the time. Even with the right attitude, it didn’t take long for me to screw up.
September 30, 2020
Thank you Sunshine Rodgers Best Selling Author!
Thank you Sunshine Rodgers Best Selling Author, for featuring my memoir, Finding Heaven In The Dark, as your Book of the Month for September 2020! William L. Ingram
About: Sunshine Rodgers
Sunshine Rodgers is a Best Selling Author, Blogger and Entrepreneur who excels in sharing the hope and light of the gospel in her books. Her characters experience the love and grace of Jesus Christ and the beauty of Heaven. Sunshine hopes her pages will get you passionate about your faith. Her books have been made into audio books and translated in different languages. Her social media sites and personal blog reach thousands of readers a week. Sunshine has appeared in magazines, newspapers and live media interviews and is working on her merchandise line (available on her website!). Sunshine is a full-time author and now enjoys her days traveling for signings, author events, speaking engagements and book tours.
https://www.patreon.com/SunshineRodge...
Follow me on Goodreads.com and Amazon.com
Facebook.com/SunshineRodgersBooks
Twitter: @Writer_Sunshine
Instagram: @AuthorSunshineRodgers
To book me for Events and speaking engagements go here:
https://www.gigsalad.com/author_and_i...
About: Sunshine Rodgers
Sunshine Rodgers is a Best Selling Author, Blogger and Entrepreneur who excels in sharing the hope and light of the gospel in her books. Her characters experience the love and grace of Jesus Christ and the beauty of Heaven. Sunshine hopes her pages will get you passionate about your faith. Her books have been made into audio books and translated in different languages. Her social media sites and personal blog reach thousands of readers a week. Sunshine has appeared in magazines, newspapers and live media interviews and is working on her merchandise line (available on her website!). Sunshine is a full-time author and now enjoys her days traveling for signings, author events, speaking engagements and book tours.
https://www.patreon.com/SunshineRodge...
Follow me on Goodreads.com and Amazon.com
Facebook.com/SunshineRodgersBooks
Twitter: @Writer_Sunshine
Instagram: @AuthorSunshineRodgers
To book me for Events and speaking engagements go here:
https://www.gigsalad.com/author_and_i...
☀ Sunshine Rodgers Blog
☀ Sunshine Rodgers Blog
September 27, 2020|Guest Post
Add a little "Sunshine" to your life!
I'm here to encourage, motivate and inspire!
For the month of September, I wanted to spotlight the book "Finding Heaven in the Dark" by William L. Ingram as my pick for the BOOK OF THE MONTH!
"Finding Heaven in the Dark" is a true story of the author's self-destructive rebellion, desertion from the Marine Corps, and Ingram's sincere journey towards spiritual and physical redemption.
Genre: a memoir
A quote from the book "Finding Heaven in the Dark": "William L. Ingram is the name on his birth certificate, but it's not the name he grew up with or used for the first 21 years of his life.
This award-winning memoir takes a hard look at an African-American son born to an unwed mother during the post-World War II baby boom era. William’s self-destructive rebellion and desertion from the Marine Corps in 1967 turned into a cross country odyssey. As a 17-year-old fugitive, he was finally forced to confront his personal demons."
What others are saying about "Finding Heaven in the Dark":
★★★★★"A message of great hope." - Rose S.
★★★★★"This is truly one of the best redemption stories I have ever read. I laughed and cried with William throughout the story." - Helen
★★★★★"This is the story of a remarkable man and his journey from runaway to redemption." - Amazon reviewer
★★★★★"Well written, historical and nostalgic, definitely worth the read!" -Mary
★★★★★ "I enjoyed this insightful book that takes the reader on a journey through the eyes of a black man who came of age during the late sixties during a time of social unrest and racial injustices. The journey is a painful one that digs deep into the conscience of the reader." - Kindle reviewer
September 27, 2020|Guest Post
Add a little "Sunshine" to your life!
I'm here to encourage, motivate and inspire!
For the month of September, I wanted to spotlight the book "Finding Heaven in the Dark" by William L. Ingram as my pick for the BOOK OF THE MONTH!
"Finding Heaven in the Dark" is a true story of the author's self-destructive rebellion, desertion from the Marine Corps, and Ingram's sincere journey towards spiritual and physical redemption.
Genre: a memoir
A quote from the book "Finding Heaven in the Dark": "William L. Ingram is the name on his birth certificate, but it's not the name he grew up with or used for the first 21 years of his life.
This award-winning memoir takes a hard look at an African-American son born to an unwed mother during the post-World War II baby boom era. William’s self-destructive rebellion and desertion from the Marine Corps in 1967 turned into a cross country odyssey. As a 17-year-old fugitive, he was finally forced to confront his personal demons."
What others are saying about "Finding Heaven in the Dark":
★★★★★"A message of great hope." - Rose S.
★★★★★"This is truly one of the best redemption stories I have ever read. I laughed and cried with William throughout the story." - Helen
★★★★★"This is the story of a remarkable man and his journey from runaway to redemption." - Amazon reviewer
★★★★★"Well written, historical and nostalgic, definitely worth the read!" -Mary
★★★★★ "I enjoyed this insightful book that takes the reader on a journey through the eyes of a black man who came of age during the late sixties during a time of social unrest and racial injustices. The journey is a painful one that digs deep into the conscience of the reader." - Kindle reviewer
