Gregory V. Boulware's Blog, page 7
March 7, 2014
~‘Ghost Writer Inerviews: Part 3: “Closing Statement – So You’re Going Where – What’s Up With You In This World?”~
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‘Part 3: “So You’re Going Where – What’s Up With You In This World?”
G.W.:
You’ve mentioned street gangs in Philly…what were some of their names?
G.V.B.:
Oh man, ‘The 3, 9-D’s,’ ‘The Valley,’ ‘The Tenderlines,’ ‘The Zulu,’ ’30-N (30th and Norris),’ and a bunch of little punk ass groups throughout the city.
The aforementioned gangs were the most prominent groups of young Black men who found sanctuary within those confines. Yeah, confines…it’s just like being in the service – your life is no longer your own. You belonged to the gang, body and soul. That’s just some of the things that occurred during the 5o’s thru the seventies here in Philly. The gang’s that you see on TV was nothing like what I’m talking about. In those days, if you had a beef you duked it out with your fists and maybe an occasional knife would break out. Guns were a rarity… One also had to be careful when visiting a girl in another neighborhood too. If you got caught in someone else’s turf, you generally got ‘moved-on.’
G.W.:
What was it like growing up in Philly?
G.V.B.:
It was pretty cool… I’ve experienced a pretty good childhood here in Philly. My childhood memories take me back to life in North Philly during the 50′s and 60′s. We’ve lived on 20th Street between Norris and Diamond, the 26th hundred block of Myrtlewood Street, The 2100 hundred block of Watkins, Stillman Street near 25th Street in South Philly, 5th and Berks on ‘Hewson Street, 4th Street between Cumberland and York, The East Falls (Schuylkill Falls) Housing Projects near Ridge and Midvale, West Philly in the 70′s at 49th and Locust, 19th and Lehigh on Garnet Street, back to South Philly then to Germantown where my wife and I Married and raised our children. My family moved to Philadelphia back in the 30′s into the 40′s when they settled in ‘Holmesburg.’ My son, ironically, settled and began raising his family without knowing, in that very same neighborhood. My cousins and I spent a terrific time there on Welsh Road, running around Frankford Avenue and through Rhawn Street, as well.
The Fairmount Park was vital to the many Philadelphia neighborhoods. Lehigh Avenue held the ‘Connie Mack Baseball Stadium, The Aquarium was at the end of Broad Street at the Navy Yard. The park held may swimming pools within as well as throughout the neighborhoods in the city. We had the ‘Willow Grove Amusement Park’ that was good for family outings on weekends and holidays. It was good in Philly during the summer when I was a kid.
My Grandmother took us to many places, especially during the church bus touring season. My Mother took my brothers and me to a lot of Philly places as well. The Philly neighborhoods had a plethora of movie houses too. You didn’t always have to travel outside the neighborhood unless you wanted…in order to take in a movie. Philly downtown was just as it implied…”Downtown!” Market Street was Market Street in those days. There were merchants galore, moviehouses, penny-arcades, pizza parlors, pretzel vendors, and water ice salesmen. Damn, it was fun. I used to work in Center City at John Wanamaker’s in the early 70′s. Me and the guys would work all day and leave for home, shower and change – and back to Center City for some evening fun and festivities. To look at it now, sort of makes me sad. It’s become a ghost town in spite of the many people that frequent and work at the tinsel town locations.
G.W.:
You’ve mentioned the name of your grandfather. What is your grandmothers’ name?
G.V.B.:
I would not have allowed you to leave without knowing the family matriarch’s name… Her name is Ms. Irene ‘Butler’ Boulware Bunch. She was 92 years of age at the time of her passing. My aunt Jessie ‘Lee’ Boulware Butler passed at the age of 94 or 96, I can’t recall which at the moment. Uncle ‘Kutch’ George Butler was somewhere around 60 or 65…he could have been younger than that. I’m not really sure. I do know that he was not a very old man when he passed. My granddad, Ernest ‘Buster’ Boulware was 63 when he left us. They were all from Winnsboro, S.C.
G.W.:
What is the political atmosphere like in your neck of the woods?
G.V.B.:
Racially charged and motivated. The racial divide is alive and well in Philly. Even though the city council is predominantly Black, with a two-term insignificant Black Mayor; their remains a racial divisiveness. The many pockets of ‘Fairmount,’ ‘The Northeast,’ ‘Upper West Philly and college campus areas,’ Center City,’ ‘South Philly and the Suburban areas have always and remain to be racially and politically divided – not to mention culture division as well, is alive and well. The television and news media would have you believe otherwise. This statement is not to belittle the efforts of those people who are color-blind and respectful of culture differences, for there are many within the 99% of Philly’s populace that are simply beautiful people caught up in the horrible turmoil of hatred around and throughout our town. Brotherly Love…where? All who indulge in hatred and disrespect are guilty…the Black, Brown, Yellow, Red, and White.
Have you seen the movie ‘Django?’ What about ‘Lincoln?’ ‘Drum’ and ‘Shaka Zulu’ are other films about early Blacks that I’d recommend. If you haven’t you should. The two movies aren’t great epics but they ring true on many of the targeted facts about slavery and white folks. “What would we do without our nigger chattel? Why, the country would go bankrupt!”
G.W.:
I understand that you and your family were adamant ‘Obama’ supporters?
Oh hell yeah… This man was the only candidate (besides Hilary) who could possibly bring some form of meaningful change to this country. I mean not because he is perceived as Black, but because as a person of color combined with a decent education; a law degree and a business degree, as well as being highly intelligent could bring significant change to this American government. Ya know, someone once said, It would take a multi-cultured, multi-colored, wisdom anointed, and firm but soft-spoken leader to govern this country in a proper, fair, and respectful way for its people – a Bi-Racial Child. The sooth-sayer also espoused the difficulty in the future to define the differences in the races as well. Wouldn’t that be interesting…racial harmony?
G.W.:
What do you mean by significant change and the fact that he is a person of color?
G.V.B.:
You know, when Brother Obama first ran for the office, many Black folk didn’t believe that he had any kind of a chance. That attitude really pissed me off. They argued with me (the folk that I knew) to no end that “No way in hell will any men who looks like a Black man will ever be president or come close to such. Remember what happened to ‘Jessie?’” Many Blacks voted for him because he looked Black – it didn’t necessarily alter the fact that he is half Black as opposed to being half White. There seemed to be more votes for him than against him. I did get the chance to give the look of ‘I told you so’ to the ‘naysayers’ after the election. I would like to think that people voted for him because he was the best qualified, the best intelligence amongst the perceived intelligence of the other candidates. I’m not taking anything away from Hilary, she’s a seasoned expert and highly intelligent as well as qualified; if it hadn’t been for Obama, she would have gotten my vote. The other thing that pissed me off was how many of our so-called folks of color jumped on the band-wagon when we won the election. I say we because Our President Represents Us, Thinks and cares about Us, and without question looks like Us. He also represents poor people of all colors at home and abroad. That alone is significant change. The “We The People” actually begins to look like what it’s supposed to represent – not the 1% who currently run the country and boast about “The new world order.” You know as well as I, all those old white guys in the higher echelon (and the ones beneath) as well as the ones who are dead, are turning over in they’re graves in complete and utter disgust. Those individuals were pulling out their hair and poking out their eyes in disbelief – “Oh my God…what is the world coming to? The Black savages are running the country – is it time to pack our bags…and don’t forget the money. Make sure we take what’s left; we have to make sure that none of the poor people get any. After all, they haven’t done anything to warrant the sharing in any of our hard-earned money.” The other hidden money is of course, in the Cayman’s and other off-shore accounts. Outsourcing American jobs really paid off big – didn’t it?
Once we get positively beyond the senate, congressional, and state houses, the elderly might have a chance at living out the rest of their lives in some sort of financial security – as supported by the Obama administration.
G.W.:
What is the job market like in Philly?
G.V.B.:
It sucks…just like any other part of the country. You wanna work at Micky D’s or Pizza Hut? Many of those jobs are nearly right up the alley of the populace society calls “ignorant and without up-bringing.” That fact is supported every time you walk into one of those fast-food eateries and are met with clerks who are not courteous. The cash registers are equipped with pictures of the product and pricing while the ill-mannered service provider continues to get your order wrong – and is willing to argue with you to the point of violence. Are you sure you’d want to spend your dollars there – in support of and with those types of people? The transportation industry isn’t what it used to be either. Take a look at the national and local news reports of so-called professional drivers who constantly run off the road while killing people who decide to take a leisurely ride on a sight-seeing tour or other passenger bus. Tractor trailer drivers who are falling asleep behind the wheel, not seasoned enough, or familiar with what it is they are responsible for when handling a ‘big-rig!’ Nothing is what it used to be…I remember when I was in the industry it was a job that you took pride in and walked around with your chest stuck out because being apart of it produced respect.
G.W.:
Do you watch a lot of television? What are some of the programs that you enjoy?
G.V.B.:
I mostly watch recorded stuff that I’ve collected over the years as well as some new stuff when available. DVD’s are a part of the repertoire, Current television shows really suck. We’ve abandoned our cable service. The commercials were presented more than the shows they were supposed to sponsor. Why should we have to pay good money for something that should be free to the viewing public, especially if since you’re forced to watch commercials? It was my intention in purchasing cable television in order to avoid the viewing of commercials. I am an avid fan of Sanford and Son, All in the Family, The Jefferson’s, Law and Order, That’s My Momma, WKRP in Cincinnati, The Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock, Jackie Gleason, Red Skelton, Barney Miller, Maude, and the like. TV isn’t what it used to be.
G.W.:
Tell us about the personal photos that you’ve used online. What’s up with the ‘Over-The-Calf-Moccasins? You have a photo of you in over-the-calf moccasins, why are you wearing those? Are they comfortable?
G.V.B.:
Ok… The left ear was anointed with the sterling silver ‘shield and feathers.’ The dangling free-flowing feathers represented the native spirit of the land.
The attaching protection of the turquoise and red stone shield was worn everyday. The Black Eagle around the neck represented the culture and free-spirit of native African and Indian people. The black matching shorts and shirt compliment the over-the-calf-moccasins. I’ve worn and love the regular shoe type moccasins and wanted to always get the over-the-calf or high boot style of moccasin. I wear them to express my respect for the native culture as well as my desire to wear them. Everyone obviously knows that they were made popular by the indigenous people and/or tribes of these United States. And yes, they are very comfortable. One could almost say that it’s nearly like walking in your bare feet. I especially like them when I’m out in the streams fishing. I don’t have to worry about getting my feet wet. They take on an extra added experience when it comes to “wading in the water.”
G.W.:
You’ve placed a certain emphasis on religion in your written work, what’s your religious faith?
G.V.B.:
None! I have no faith in religion and especially no faith in man or his man-made religion. I am a believer. Someone asked the NFL great, Reggie White about his faith after he studied Hebrew in search of the truth. He found that many lies have been told by man in the name of God. He replied to the questioner, “I have faith in God – I am a believer.” You don’t necessarily have to be Jewish in order to be Hebrew, especially if you are a person of color. There is no God but God. Man has hatred for other men when they plot to have him killed in order to take over their possessions and/or loved ones. When Man has a tendency to kill other men, while they wish to be in control of him… When he does not wish to do something for himself, he makes slaves and servants of others to do his bidding. Then he places himself on a high pedestal and calls on others to bow down before him and recognize him as God…if you don’t, you’ll be killed or your life…and that of your family, will be in bondage – “The Maafa” continues to expose itself to those who attempt to cover it up. SANKOFA!
G.W.:
You’ve got a new book coming out — can you give us a sneak peek into what it’s about?
G.V.B.:
Sure, I’d be more than happy to oblige.
It’s based in Philly. Outside folks my not be aware of the inconvenience of out of town regatta’s. People have bitched and complained about the detours in and around Fairmount Park for years. Nothings been done to tame that behavior or pacify the North Philadelphia areas that are directly affected by the heavy traffic flow through the 33rd and Ridge Avenue corridors. The folks in neighboring Roxborough, Manayunk, Mount Airy, Chestnut Hill, and Germantown catch all kinds of hell gaining access to center city, the park, and beyond if they have to travel through the park or I-76. The question arose, what would happen if all that out of town festivities, traffic, and the surrounding people affected found themselves squeezed up in a cauldron of conflict and turmoil…came together in a time of crisis.
“The Fairmount Park Rapist became second fiddle to this latest horror in our city’s parkland…where no one is safe! No one is able to control, contain, or prevent the attacks of this killer that stalks the area…save one man who knows the inner workings of the mind of this murderer!”
“Anglers bitched and shook their fists as they rowed by, causing large ripples in the water where they dropped baited lines, anticipating the fish to bite. Joggers were sucking it up as well and breathing the fresh crisp air. The weekend mornings were usually busier than workouts during the week.
Children were out collecting leaves and exploring the parkland. Parents, coaches, and other responsible adults were busy directing the young ones in organized game playing and such. Three boys, about the age of twelve ran by the busy groups of chess players, hikers, picnickers, bird feeders, and newspaper readers. Saturday morning was one of the best mornings for exploring and cliff climbing in the Fairmounts.” “Gregory Thomas, Eddie Wright, Jean McIntosh, and the brains of the gang, Linda Ann Weston were finally arrested. They were charged with kidnapping and related offenses. The charges stem from the discovery of four mentally disabled adults in a dirty, urine-reeking sub-basement dungeon inside a ‘Tacony’ apartment building. The elaborate but simple scheme was established to steal the social security checks from the victims. With this twist and the DPW bennies from her drugged out kids, she and her cohorts were making a killing – living like kings.”
“A reporter allegedly took evidence from the crime scene, said a newswire report. She acquired a defense attorney to represent her while Wilbur H. Settimyer, Philadelphia’s District Attorney, called for a Grand Jury Investigation into the incident. The mayor and Harold R. Nicklestein, City Controller, made reference to the case when the question was posed by one of the attending reporters. They professionally dodged the question like it was the plague. They frowned and smiled when necessary while only answering with “We’re looking into it as we speak!” The report also unearthed the possible linking of the dungeon queen to the death of a woman who resided in Chester Gardens.
Weston’s son was an infant when his mom was arrested for imprisoning her sister’s boyfriend. She was reported to have locked him in a closet while starving him to death. The siblings were sent to live with a paternal grandmother. The young man stated an aunt abused him and his brothers, when they later went to live with her. The boy also said it was bad but worse when living with his mom.
“It was horrible – really horrible.” He fought back tears while pressing his fingers to his forehead and wiping his eyes.”
“The shells from the guns on the scene weren’t having an affect on the super sized animal. The sergeant ran to the assault vehicle and unloaded a grenade launching rifle.
He loaded the weapon, aimed, and shouted to the defending officers and soldiers, “Fire in the Hole!” He pulled the trigger firing the grenade directly at the beast. The pin popped off right after the trigger was pulled. The grenade exploded squarely in the chest of the raging marauder.”
G.W.:
Tell us a bit about your writing process: do you keep to a set routine? What work habits do you find effective?
G.V.B.:
No. I simply go along to get along…with my pen of course. On some days I just can’t stop writing, or reading for that matter, and I’ll write until I can’t write anymore…on other days I can’t even sign my name for the lack of enthusiasm to write anything. That has caused the separation of me and the scribe for many days in between.
G.W.:
What motivated you to self-publish your books?
G.V.B.:
…Self satisfaction and gratification without the condescending bullshit that accompanies the “Pat on the head.” Another motivation can be described as the ‘knit-picking’ analyzation through various so-called publishing houses and desiring sole-proprietorship over my work. Ya know, one online publisher offered me 35% of the profit margin before taxes and fees. Another wanted me to put up $200 to $600 for the initial startup of my book…one book! A sort of pre-publication in order to become published…after I was/am already published.
G.W.:
What is the most important, hard-won piece of advice you have to share with would-be self publishers?
G.V.B.:
Write, write, and keep writing. If it’s good to you, it’s good for you – and let no one tell you otherwise. It’s also the old saying, “A job well done is a job worth doing.” If there is a book in you, keep it in you until you’re ready to put pen to paper – stylus to interface – fingers to keystrokes and then, only then, get the show on the road. Get your book published as best you see fit…let no one tell you how you want your work published – YOU TELL THEM!
G.W.:
You’re exceedingly generous in sharing excerpts from your books. In fact, you even offer your book, yes?
G.V.B.:
Actually, I’ve given away several copies of the four books in question. I’ve not yet received written reviews or feedback. The word of mouth thing has been going around though. “Wow Greg… That’s a pretty good damn book, I liked it!” “I’ll tell you man, that ‘Demon’s Throat’ is something else.” Damn dude, I didn’t know you could write like that! That sure is one thick ass book…how long did it take you to write it – it’s gonna take me a long time to get through this!” The “Thick Book” is referencing “The Spirit of the Soul and The Death of Morals!” It’s only 484 pages back-to-back. My only ‘pet-peeve’ is the fact that not enough of my immediate family members have knowledge of the fact that these volumes are beneficial to all. They have a direct source…but do not take advantage of the wealth therein. The young ones of my direct line are not the avid readers that I would like them to be.
The older ones…I couldn’t get them to read a posted article let alone a book – my books! Acknowledgement comes and yes, provides a myriad of selfless support to my work by simply reading the stuff. Who are they, one might ask? They are the incessantly inordinate, laudable, and superlative lot who identify themselves as intelligent moguls of internet perusing and ‘Social Networking’ knowledge seekers. It is they who read the published and posted material that could very well provide a much needed supplement to everyday life here on Earth.
G.W.:
Why did you choose WordPress.com for your blog,
G.V.B.:
‘Wordpress’ was actually recommended to me by an online friend, Marta Fernandez. She said that she was having some difficulty with posting content to her wordpress site and warned to stay clear of it. I offered to take a look see at her dilemma. Once there, I could see no real difficulty in posting material to the site. There did exist some minor difficulties and annoyances in the interface, but all-in-all it was quite simple and it got better as I continued to tinker with it. Simply put, once there, I stayed. The site is a good fit for me and the articles that I sometimes compose and post for the world to see. I do like ‘WordPress.’
“That was a simple decision.”
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~Ghost Writer Interview - In It's Entirety~
WordPress:
The Ghost Writer Interviews - Pt. 1:
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
The Ghost Writer Interviews Pt.2: “So You’ve Become An Author, Why?”:
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
Pt.3 – Closing Statement – “So You’re Going Where?”
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
GoodReads:
The Ghost Writer Interviews - Pt. 1:
~Independent Author Services and Promotions~
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The Ghost Writer Interviews Pt.2: “So You’ve Become An Author, Why?”:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Pt.3 – Closing Statement – “So You’re Going Where?”
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog...
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fk...
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‘Part 3: “So You’re Going Where – What’s Up With You In This World?”
G.W.:
You’ve mentioned street gangs in Philly…what were some of their names?
G.V.B.:
Oh man, ‘The 3, 9-D’s,’ ‘The Valley,’ ‘The Tenderlines,’ ‘The Zulu,’ ’30-N (30th and Norris),’ and a bunch of little punk ass groups throughout the city.
The aforementioned gangs were the most prominent groups of young Black men who found sanctuary within those confines. Yeah, confines…it’s just like being in the service – your life is no longer your own. You belonged to the gang, body and soul. That’s just some of the things that occurred during the 5o’s thru the seventies here in Philly. The gang’s that you see on TV was nothing like what I’m talking about. In those days, if you had a beef you duked it out with your fists and maybe an occasional knife would break out. Guns were a rarity… One also had to be careful when visiting a girl in another neighborhood too. If you got caught in someone else’s turf, you generally got ‘moved-on.’
G.W.:
What was it like growing up in Philly?
G.V.B.:
It was pretty cool… I’ve experienced a pretty good childhood here in Philly. My childhood memories take me back to life in North Philly during the 50′s and 60′s. We’ve lived on 20th Street between Norris and Diamond, the 26th hundred block of Myrtlewood Street, The 2100 hundred block of Watkins, Stillman Street near 25th Street in South Philly, 5th and Berks on ‘Hewson Street, 4th Street between Cumberland and York, The East Falls (Schuylkill Falls) Housing Projects near Ridge and Midvale, West Philly in the 70′s at 49th and Locust, 19th and Lehigh on Garnet Street, back to South Philly then to Germantown where my wife and I Married and raised our children. My family moved to Philadelphia back in the 30′s into the 40′s when they settled in ‘Holmesburg.’ My son, ironically, settled and began raising his family without knowing, in that very same neighborhood. My cousins and I spent a terrific time there on Welsh Road, running around Frankford Avenue and through Rhawn Street, as well.
The Fairmount Park was vital to the many Philadelphia neighborhoods. Lehigh Avenue held the ‘Connie Mack Baseball Stadium, The Aquarium was at the end of Broad Street at the Navy Yard. The park held may swimming pools within as well as throughout the neighborhoods in the city. We had the ‘Willow Grove Amusement Park’ that was good for family outings on weekends and holidays. It was good in Philly during the summer when I was a kid.
My Grandmother took us to many places, especially during the church bus touring season. My Mother took my brothers and me to a lot of Philly places as well. The Philly neighborhoods had a plethora of movie houses too. You didn’t always have to travel outside the neighborhood unless you wanted…in order to take in a movie. Philly downtown was just as it implied…”Downtown!” Market Street was Market Street in those days. There were merchants galore, moviehouses, penny-arcades, pizza parlors, pretzel vendors, and water ice salesmen. Damn, it was fun. I used to work in Center City at John Wanamaker’s in the early 70′s. Me and the guys would work all day and leave for home, shower and change – and back to Center City for some evening fun and festivities. To look at it now, sort of makes me sad. It’s become a ghost town in spite of the many people that frequent and work at the tinsel town locations.
G.W.:
You’ve mentioned the name of your grandfather. What is your grandmothers’ name?
G.V.B.:
I would not have allowed you to leave without knowing the family matriarch’s name… Her name is Ms. Irene ‘Butler’ Boulware Bunch. She was 92 years of age at the time of her passing. My aunt Jessie ‘Lee’ Boulware Butler passed at the age of 94 or 96, I can’t recall which at the moment. Uncle ‘Kutch’ George Butler was somewhere around 60 or 65…he could have been younger than that. I’m not really sure. I do know that he was not a very old man when he passed. My granddad, Ernest ‘Buster’ Boulware was 63 when he left us. They were all from Winnsboro, S.C.
G.W.:
What is the political atmosphere like in your neck of the woods?
G.V.B.:
Racially charged and motivated. The racial divide is alive and well in Philly. Even though the city council is predominantly Black, with a two-term insignificant Black Mayor; their remains a racial divisiveness. The many pockets of ‘Fairmount,’ ‘The Northeast,’ ‘Upper West Philly and college campus areas,’ Center City,’ ‘South Philly and the Suburban areas have always and remain to be racially and politically divided – not to mention culture division as well, is alive and well. The television and news media would have you believe otherwise. This statement is not to belittle the efforts of those people who are color-blind and respectful of culture differences, for there are many within the 99% of Philly’s populace that are simply beautiful people caught up in the horrible turmoil of hatred around and throughout our town. Brotherly Love…where? All who indulge in hatred and disrespect are guilty…the Black, Brown, Yellow, Red, and White.
Have you seen the movie ‘Django?’ What about ‘Lincoln?’ ‘Drum’ and ‘Shaka Zulu’ are other films about early Blacks that I’d recommend. If you haven’t you should. The two movies aren’t great epics but they ring true on many of the targeted facts about slavery and white folks. “What would we do without our nigger chattel? Why, the country would go bankrupt!”
G.W.:
I understand that you and your family were adamant ‘Obama’ supporters?
Oh hell yeah… This man was the only candidate (besides Hilary) who could possibly bring some form of meaningful change to this country. I mean not because he is perceived as Black, but because as a person of color combined with a decent education; a law degree and a business degree, as well as being highly intelligent could bring significant change to this American government. Ya know, someone once said, It would take a multi-cultured, multi-colored, wisdom anointed, and firm but soft-spoken leader to govern this country in a proper, fair, and respectful way for its people – a Bi-Racial Child. The sooth-sayer also espoused the difficulty in the future to define the differences in the races as well. Wouldn’t that be interesting…racial harmony?
G.W.:
What do you mean by significant change and the fact that he is a person of color?
G.V.B.:
You know, when Brother Obama first ran for the office, many Black folk didn’t believe that he had any kind of a chance. That attitude really pissed me off. They argued with me (the folk that I knew) to no end that “No way in hell will any men who looks like a Black man will ever be president or come close to such. Remember what happened to ‘Jessie?’” Many Blacks voted for him because he looked Black – it didn’t necessarily alter the fact that he is half Black as opposed to being half White. There seemed to be more votes for him than against him. I did get the chance to give the look of ‘I told you so’ to the ‘naysayers’ after the election. I would like to think that people voted for him because he was the best qualified, the best intelligence amongst the perceived intelligence of the other candidates. I’m not taking anything away from Hilary, she’s a seasoned expert and highly intelligent as well as qualified; if it hadn’t been for Obama, she would have gotten my vote. The other thing that pissed me off was how many of our so-called folks of color jumped on the band-wagon when we won the election. I say we because Our President Represents Us, Thinks and cares about Us, and without question looks like Us. He also represents poor people of all colors at home and abroad. That alone is significant change. The “We The People” actually begins to look like what it’s supposed to represent – not the 1% who currently run the country and boast about “The new world order.” You know as well as I, all those old white guys in the higher echelon (and the ones beneath) as well as the ones who are dead, are turning over in they’re graves in complete and utter disgust. Those individuals were pulling out their hair and poking out their eyes in disbelief – “Oh my God…what is the world coming to? The Black savages are running the country – is it time to pack our bags…and don’t forget the money. Make sure we take what’s left; we have to make sure that none of the poor people get any. After all, they haven’t done anything to warrant the sharing in any of our hard-earned money.” The other hidden money is of course, in the Cayman’s and other off-shore accounts. Outsourcing American jobs really paid off big – didn’t it?
Once we get positively beyond the senate, congressional, and state houses, the elderly might have a chance at living out the rest of their lives in some sort of financial security – as supported by the Obama administration.
G.W.:
What is the job market like in Philly?
G.V.B.:
It sucks…just like any other part of the country. You wanna work at Micky D’s or Pizza Hut? Many of those jobs are nearly right up the alley of the populace society calls “ignorant and without up-bringing.” That fact is supported every time you walk into one of those fast-food eateries and are met with clerks who are not courteous. The cash registers are equipped with pictures of the product and pricing while the ill-mannered service provider continues to get your order wrong – and is willing to argue with you to the point of violence. Are you sure you’d want to spend your dollars there – in support of and with those types of people? The transportation industry isn’t what it used to be either. Take a look at the national and local news reports of so-called professional drivers who constantly run off the road while killing people who decide to take a leisurely ride on a sight-seeing tour or other passenger bus. Tractor trailer drivers who are falling asleep behind the wheel, not seasoned enough, or familiar with what it is they are responsible for when handling a ‘big-rig!’ Nothing is what it used to be…I remember when I was in the industry it was a job that you took pride in and walked around with your chest stuck out because being apart of it produced respect.
G.W.:
Do you watch a lot of television? What are some of the programs that you enjoy?
G.V.B.:
I mostly watch recorded stuff that I’ve collected over the years as well as some new stuff when available. DVD’s are a part of the repertoire, Current television shows really suck. We’ve abandoned our cable service. The commercials were presented more than the shows they were supposed to sponsor. Why should we have to pay good money for something that should be free to the viewing public, especially if since you’re forced to watch commercials? It was my intention in purchasing cable television in order to avoid the viewing of commercials. I am an avid fan of Sanford and Son, All in the Family, The Jefferson’s, Law and Order, That’s My Momma, WKRP in Cincinnati, The Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock, Jackie Gleason, Red Skelton, Barney Miller, Maude, and the like. TV isn’t what it used to be.
G.W.:
Tell us about the personal photos that you’ve used online. What’s up with the ‘Over-The-Calf-Moccasins? You have a photo of you in over-the-calf moccasins, why are you wearing those? Are they comfortable?
G.V.B.:
Ok… The left ear was anointed with the sterling silver ‘shield and feathers.’ The dangling free-flowing feathers represented the native spirit of the land.
The attaching protection of the turquoise and red stone shield was worn everyday. The Black Eagle around the neck represented the culture and free-spirit of native African and Indian people. The black matching shorts and shirt compliment the over-the-calf-moccasins. I’ve worn and love the regular shoe type moccasins and wanted to always get the over-the-calf or high boot style of moccasin. I wear them to express my respect for the native culture as well as my desire to wear them. Everyone obviously knows that they were made popular by the indigenous people and/or tribes of these United States. And yes, they are very comfortable. One could almost say that it’s nearly like walking in your bare feet. I especially like them when I’m out in the streams fishing. I don’t have to worry about getting my feet wet. They take on an extra added experience when it comes to “wading in the water.”
G.W.:
You’ve placed a certain emphasis on religion in your written work, what’s your religious faith?
G.V.B.:
None! I have no faith in religion and especially no faith in man or his man-made religion. I am a believer. Someone asked the NFL great, Reggie White about his faith after he studied Hebrew in search of the truth. He found that many lies have been told by man in the name of God. He replied to the questioner, “I have faith in God – I am a believer.” You don’t necessarily have to be Jewish in order to be Hebrew, especially if you are a person of color. There is no God but God. Man has hatred for other men when they plot to have him killed in order to take over their possessions and/or loved ones. When Man has a tendency to kill other men, while they wish to be in control of him… When he does not wish to do something for himself, he makes slaves and servants of others to do his bidding. Then he places himself on a high pedestal and calls on others to bow down before him and recognize him as God…if you don’t, you’ll be killed or your life…and that of your family, will be in bondage – “The Maafa” continues to expose itself to those who attempt to cover it up. SANKOFA!
G.W.:
You’ve got a new book coming out — can you give us a sneak peek into what it’s about?
G.V.B.:
Sure, I’d be more than happy to oblige.
It’s based in Philly. Outside folks my not be aware of the inconvenience of out of town regatta’s. People have bitched and complained about the detours in and around Fairmount Park for years. Nothings been done to tame that behavior or pacify the North Philadelphia areas that are directly affected by the heavy traffic flow through the 33rd and Ridge Avenue corridors. The folks in neighboring Roxborough, Manayunk, Mount Airy, Chestnut Hill, and Germantown catch all kinds of hell gaining access to center city, the park, and beyond if they have to travel through the park or I-76. The question arose, what would happen if all that out of town festivities, traffic, and the surrounding people affected found themselves squeezed up in a cauldron of conflict and turmoil…came together in a time of crisis.
“The Fairmount Park Rapist became second fiddle to this latest horror in our city’s parkland…where no one is safe! No one is able to control, contain, or prevent the attacks of this killer that stalks the area…save one man who knows the inner workings of the mind of this murderer!”
“Anglers bitched and shook their fists as they rowed by, causing large ripples in the water where they dropped baited lines, anticipating the fish to bite. Joggers were sucking it up as well and breathing the fresh crisp air. The weekend mornings were usually busier than workouts during the week.
Children were out collecting leaves and exploring the parkland. Parents, coaches, and other responsible adults were busy directing the young ones in organized game playing and such. Three boys, about the age of twelve ran by the busy groups of chess players, hikers, picnickers, bird feeders, and newspaper readers. Saturday morning was one of the best mornings for exploring and cliff climbing in the Fairmounts.” “Gregory Thomas, Eddie Wright, Jean McIntosh, and the brains of the gang, Linda Ann Weston were finally arrested. They were charged with kidnapping and related offenses. The charges stem from the discovery of four mentally disabled adults in a dirty, urine-reeking sub-basement dungeon inside a ‘Tacony’ apartment building. The elaborate but simple scheme was established to steal the social security checks from the victims. With this twist and the DPW bennies from her drugged out kids, she and her cohorts were making a killing – living like kings.”
“A reporter allegedly took evidence from the crime scene, said a newswire report. She acquired a defense attorney to represent her while Wilbur H. Settimyer, Philadelphia’s District Attorney, called for a Grand Jury Investigation into the incident. The mayor and Harold R. Nicklestein, City Controller, made reference to the case when the question was posed by one of the attending reporters. They professionally dodged the question like it was the plague. They frowned and smiled when necessary while only answering with “We’re looking into it as we speak!” The report also unearthed the possible linking of the dungeon queen to the death of a woman who resided in Chester Gardens.
Weston’s son was an infant when his mom was arrested for imprisoning her sister’s boyfriend. She was reported to have locked him in a closet while starving him to death. The siblings were sent to live with a paternal grandmother. The young man stated an aunt abused him and his brothers, when they later went to live with her. The boy also said it was bad but worse when living with his mom.
“It was horrible – really horrible.” He fought back tears while pressing his fingers to his forehead and wiping his eyes.”
“The shells from the guns on the scene weren’t having an affect on the super sized animal. The sergeant ran to the assault vehicle and unloaded a grenade launching rifle.
He loaded the weapon, aimed, and shouted to the defending officers and soldiers, “Fire in the Hole!” He pulled the trigger firing the grenade directly at the beast. The pin popped off right after the trigger was pulled. The grenade exploded squarely in the chest of the raging marauder.”
G.W.:
Tell us a bit about your writing process: do you keep to a set routine? What work habits do you find effective?
G.V.B.:
No. I simply go along to get along…with my pen of course. On some days I just can’t stop writing, or reading for that matter, and I’ll write until I can’t write anymore…on other days I can’t even sign my name for the lack of enthusiasm to write anything. That has caused the separation of me and the scribe for many days in between.
G.W.:
What motivated you to self-publish your books?
G.V.B.:
…Self satisfaction and gratification without the condescending bullshit that accompanies the “Pat on the head.” Another motivation can be described as the ‘knit-picking’ analyzation through various so-called publishing houses and desiring sole-proprietorship over my work. Ya know, one online publisher offered me 35% of the profit margin before taxes and fees. Another wanted me to put up $200 to $600 for the initial startup of my book…one book! A sort of pre-publication in order to become published…after I was/am already published.
G.W.:
What is the most important, hard-won piece of advice you have to share with would-be self publishers?
G.V.B.:
Write, write, and keep writing. If it’s good to you, it’s good for you – and let no one tell you otherwise. It’s also the old saying, “A job well done is a job worth doing.” If there is a book in you, keep it in you until you’re ready to put pen to paper – stylus to interface – fingers to keystrokes and then, only then, get the show on the road. Get your book published as best you see fit…let no one tell you how you want your work published – YOU TELL THEM!
G.W.:
You’re exceedingly generous in sharing excerpts from your books. In fact, you even offer your book, yes?
G.V.B.:
Actually, I’ve given away several copies of the four books in question. I’ve not yet received written reviews or feedback. The word of mouth thing has been going around though. “Wow Greg… That’s a pretty good damn book, I liked it!” “I’ll tell you man, that ‘Demon’s Throat’ is something else.” Damn dude, I didn’t know you could write like that! That sure is one thick ass book…how long did it take you to write it – it’s gonna take me a long time to get through this!” The “Thick Book” is referencing “The Spirit of the Soul and The Death of Morals!” It’s only 484 pages back-to-back. My only ‘pet-peeve’ is the fact that not enough of my immediate family members have knowledge of the fact that these volumes are beneficial to all. They have a direct source…but do not take advantage of the wealth therein. The young ones of my direct line are not the avid readers that I would like them to be.
The older ones…I couldn’t get them to read a posted article let alone a book – my books! Acknowledgement comes and yes, provides a myriad of selfless support to my work by simply reading the stuff. Who are they, one might ask? They are the incessantly inordinate, laudable, and superlative lot who identify themselves as intelligent moguls of internet perusing and ‘Social Networking’ knowledge seekers. It is they who read the published and posted material that could very well provide a much needed supplement to everyday life here on Earth.
G.W.:
Why did you choose WordPress.com for your blog,
G.V.B.:
‘Wordpress’ was actually recommended to me by an online friend, Marta Fernandez. She said that she was having some difficulty with posting content to her wordpress site and warned to stay clear of it. I offered to take a look see at her dilemma. Once there, I could see no real difficulty in posting material to the site. There did exist some minor difficulties and annoyances in the interface, but all-in-all it was quite simple and it got better as I continued to tinker with it. Simply put, once there, I stayed. The site is a good fit for me and the articles that I sometimes compose and post for the world to see. I do like ‘WordPress.’
“That was a simple decision.”
>
~Ghost Writer Interview - In It's Entirety~
WordPress:
The Ghost Writer Interviews - Pt. 1:
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
The Ghost Writer Interviews Pt.2: “So You’ve Become An Author, Why?”:
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
Pt.3 – Closing Statement – “So You’re Going Where?”
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
GoodReads:
The Ghost Writer Interviews - Pt. 1:
~Independent Author Services and Promotions~
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The Ghost Writer Interviews Pt.2: “So You’ve Become An Author, Why?”:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Pt.3 – Closing Statement – “So You’re Going Where?”
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog...
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fk...
*/
February 26, 2014
Across The Way
Someone in a school class room asked, "Why do we have to have African Studies or a Black History Month? Why can't we have an Asian, Italian, French, Jewish, Irish, Russian, Armenian, German, or Chinese history month?" The answer that was given is... "Africans were enslaved and brought here to America in Chains! They've had their culture, Language, and lives ripped from them when they were snatched from their homes - they are the only group of people who were forced to come here... they did not come voluntarily to America. It was built on Free Slave Labor!"
February 25, 2014
“Across The Way”
/*
Someone in a school class room asked, “Why do we have to have African Studies or a Black History Month? Why can’t we have an Asian, Italian, French, Jewish, Irish, Russian, Armenian, German, or Chinese history month?”
The answer that was given is… “Africans were enslaved and brought here to America in Chains! They’ve had their culture, Language, and lives ripped from them when they were snatched from their homes – they are the only group of people who were forced to come here…they did not come voluntarily to America. It was built on Free Slave Labor!”
“Across The Way”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
http://www.blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/b...
The preparations were under way…
The repast was hot, delicious, and plentiful. They had all eaten to their hearts content. Their gullets were stuffed full of revelry, joy, and family. Many could not participate in such fine raiment, delicacy, or domicile – for they had none.
Many jumped up and ran for the door. Some took naps and rested from their great ordeal with the plate, spoon, and fork. They, some, prepared for the morrow’s day of work and service, while many gathered their currency, plastics, and smart phones in readiness of the day called black. Some gave thanks while others did not. Because the lived across the way.
The day celebrating the great birth was festive. Many were concerned with those who had not while many simply walked over and away – stepped over obliviously, ignored and cast away. Albeit, much of it due to invisibility and wanton chosen-selective ignorance. Unemployment rested upon pins and needles too. The session of debate, decision, and a rush for the door was their only hope. Hopes were shattered, spat on, and trashed with the traversing footfalls of the end of session escape into oblivion. Their far away domiciles were kept hidden from the masses and the media – the eye of truth, justice, and liberty for all, especially for those on this side, across the way.
Lights of brilliance and babbles squinted and stretched wide the eyes of the pious and the marveled. They ran across the way to see what sparkled next, what was less or more expensive, the best, the biggest, and brightest or the most. After the acquiring of trinkets and loot were brought back to residences of glitter and preference, brought in through doorways, windows, and chimneys, all of which is not required or afforded across the way. In a word, they ran away and denounced such things as ludicrous – the words scribed in a pretty Good Book:
“This,” saith the Lord, “learn not the way of the heathen; for the heathen are dismayed at them, for the customs of the people are vain; for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not. But, they are altogether brutish and foolish: the stock is a doctrine of vanities.”
~Jeremiah, Chp. 10~
Can you not see, o’ ye across the way?
The ball dropped and fell down the pole. They ran across the way to see… The newly entered year was seized with revel and joyous behavior. Will it be short lived? I think yes… The old and the weak stayed away from the celebration for fear of being trampled by the maddened crowd, in their attempt to get the best spot – across the way.
The people, who knew not what they do, boasted the image of Him with looks of falsehood. His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were as a flame of fire. Trojan lands were under siege.
“I know thy works, and tribulations, and poverty, but thou art rich and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are the Jews, and are not, but are the Synagogue of Satan” – although Enoch walked with God across the way.
Cain dwelt in the land of Nod, east of Eden; the earthen giants were children of angels and the human female. The daughters of man were indeed fair.
Multitudes of the unemployed held hope by the throat in strained attempts to believe the elected would, sooner or later, do the right thing – for those across the way. They were running to get across the way – in pursuit, in a foolish attempt of evading the Most High, to escape from the avenging archangel in the night, or Satan himself – to catch the naked Black Man before he could reach the safety of freedom across the way.
The ones on the other side of the aisle stretched with strained limbs, reached out with portentous contention, endeavoring to show them the light of the righteous.
“Do not leave the session now – do not leave when we are needed the most – your homes are intact and well endowed. Is it not our duty, our responsibility to see to it that all are just as secure? Is it not our charge to provide so that they can make it over there, across the way? We beseech thee, to the last just and sober soul, come back inside and live up to the honor that has been bestowed upon thee; for the people, by the people, and for the people. Even if one creed does not support the other, the colloquial destiny is one.
Cherries and fantasy enfold the living belief of life inside the liquid crystal display. Several survivors of the dinner hour sit seated eagerly awaiting their turn to contribute his or her day’s experience. Parental loving pride casts a mighty beacon throughout the land of freedom town. The totality of the union, (for the moment), superlatively overwhelms the surrounding host of despair. The lack of oneness is the ultimate sacrifice mankind has submitted – given in to Satan. His power resides in the destruction of mankind. Many are duped into the following and faith of individuality, contempt, separation, and isolation of the masses. For as long as we are not capable of understanding and communication, how can there be total cohesion, peace, and equality amongst us? In believing that one is mightier than the other, better than your God – the curse bestowed upon those who built the ‘Tower of Babel,’ falls and spreads throughout the lands of the world, across the way; allowing Satan’s victorious smile.
Gladiators of the grid iron, hoop, and diamonds of dirt, ring of passion and rope, or Olympian trials are bestowed with greatness from admiring eyes. Richness and wealth has befallen them. Who is now the master and who is to be the servant? Cold cereal, shaving razors, soda pop, and beer is presented with scantily clad light and white complected females, boasting their breasts and bottoms with pride, supported by rich green dollars of slobbering alcohol drenched, back slapping neophytes and Neanderthals. Waitresses are pinched, kissed, and slapped in the name of jest, subtlety, and lust. Giant screen television with lifelike dramatizations and alienations saturate the horde of rampaging elbow-benders galore. The reach across the way was caught by the studious husband of a flirtatious wife, even though he had completed his condemned covenant breaking rendezvous, returning from across the way.
Griping and groaning, because the snow won’t stop falling when they wanted it to. Did the snow fall purposely to mess up their day, to ruin their plans? What are the benefits of snow while you work the shovel and throw the stuff over there – across the way? Have you been sick? Had a cold? What do you think happens to the spittle found all over the sidewalks when the old dirty snow is melted, shoveled, scooped, and piled over there – across the way?
Cars, buses, trucks, trains and planes have succumbed to the wrath of the winter’s inclement onslaught. Its highways and byways smothered in white fluff and icy-cold. The trees, many of them elderly, reluctant to bearing the weight of stuff falling on them from the sky. They’ve decided and were forced to bend and break and utilize suburban houses and support poles as buffers on their way downward to restful sidewalks and grounds, there across the way.
The humans, many of highly secured and “well-to-do” means, were suddenly and abruptly denied their basic needs. Never mind the ones who’ve lived their lives continually, without the things they take for granted.
The cold winds howled and blew. It huffed and puffed and blew everything down. Water pipes froze and burst. Many wiped their dry mouths lusting with thirst, for want of a glass of water. After several days, the agony began to drive them mad – to the brink of murder. The lights were off. The TV didn’t work. The Kindle would not fire due to the dead and dying batteries. Nowhere was any convenient every day, ordinary power of any kind. Transportation was no longer an optional package of consideration for them over there, across the way.
The car started up fine, but it was of no use, no good. There were no longer available amenities for the cute little cul-de-sacs that were now pools of plight and despair, brewing a pending inevitable platform for starvation. Hot, live electric wires and power lines were untouchable, unapproachable. No more matches, paper, or firewood was available for lighting warmth in the fireplace. The gas grill was empty of propane. The charcoal grill killed a few families who didn’t wish to freeze to death in the safety of their broken, busted, and exposed homes.
One guy wondered, “What did the Indians do? Are we going to die like the pilgrim settlers, leaving the safety of the sea going vessels that carried them here to the Americas? I remember that wagon train in the western time mountains – they got stuck in hundreds of feet of snow and began to eat each other for survival. What did they use for a cook fire? Where are the Indians when you need them? They could help us survive! Please, won’t somebody tell us what to do?”
Some of the residents were fortunate enough to make the shelter circuit. Two weeks in, the repair crews were indefatigable in their dedication of restoring power to the various out of town communities.
The heavy-set Black Man, a power company supervisor, addressed the derelict destitute and depraved semi-homeless vagrants. He paid them a cordial visit, simply to reassure them, and report the power teams’ daily progress. He wanted to let them know how soon they could begin to return to their homes. But that was not to be. Savage and unjustly attacked was he. They hit him with verbal assaults from any and every direction. They wanted satisfaction now – right now.
“You are telling a damned lie! We are tired of waiting for you slow moving useless and worthless jabber jaws!”
He tried in vain to calm the people, none of which who looked like him. When he could not bring peace and control to the raucous group, he reached for his belongings that had been taken from him. They stole his lunch box, books and papers he’d brought to the meeting, and grabbed for his outer clothing. They were confiscated as well. He bolted from the room screaming into his cell phone and radio for help that would never come. Losing the radio as he made his life saving escape, the rampaging entities of the helpless suburbanites with the appearance of chalk-faced zombies, turned on and began attacking each other. They could not see eye-to-eye, they could not reason with any inkling of sanity. They came from over there, across the way.
The wind, rain, snow, and ice stopped falling – then after six hours had past, began again for twenty-four more hours. It all stopped and subsided, then left completely. It was clear that someone, something was watching them. It, Them, She, or He was watching to see how the tables had turned – how the tide has fared… The One who is The Most High, the One who sat and watched them of means – when it is all gone. He saw what they did, how they did…from over there – across the way.
Til Next Time…
"Arc of the Prophet"
http://arcoftheprophet.blogspot.com/
“NINETY and FIVE”
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blo...
http://ninetyandfive.blogspot.com
"Black Robbers"
http://club.hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/b...
"The Colour of the Old West"
http://colouroftheoldwest.blogspot.com/
"Black American Freedon Fighters" - "What Is A Man Who Does Not Make The World Better?"
http://blackamericanfreedomfighters.b...
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
"As The Clock Turns"
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cont...
http://astheclockturns.blogspot.com/
"The Black Book"
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor...
“SHAMAN”
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
"Arc of the Prophet"
http://arcoftheprophet.blogspot.com/
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
“Seeker of Wisdom, Truth, and Justice: BEREAN”
http://seekerofwisdomtruthandjusticeb...
*/
Someone in a school class room asked, “Why do we have to have African Studies or a Black History Month? Why can’t we have an Asian, Italian, French, Jewish, Irish, Russian, Armenian, German, or Chinese history month?”
The answer that was given is… “Africans were enslaved and brought here to America in Chains! They’ve had their culture, Language, and lives ripped from them when they were snatched from their homes – they are the only group of people who were forced to come here…they did not come voluntarily to America. It was built on Free Slave Labor!”
“Across The Way”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
http://www.blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/b...
The preparations were under way…
The repast was hot, delicious, and plentiful. They had all eaten to their hearts content. Their gullets were stuffed full of revelry, joy, and family. Many could not participate in such fine raiment, delicacy, or domicile – for they had none.
Many jumped up and ran for the door. Some took naps and rested from their great ordeal with the plate, spoon, and fork. They, some, prepared for the morrow’s day of work and service, while many gathered their currency, plastics, and smart phones in readiness of the day called black. Some gave thanks while others did not. Because the lived across the way.
The day celebrating the great birth was festive. Many were concerned with those who had not while many simply walked over and away – stepped over obliviously, ignored and cast away. Albeit, much of it due to invisibility and wanton chosen-selective ignorance. Unemployment rested upon pins and needles too. The session of debate, decision, and a rush for the door was their only hope. Hopes were shattered, spat on, and trashed with the traversing footfalls of the end of session escape into oblivion. Their far away domiciles were kept hidden from the masses and the media – the eye of truth, justice, and liberty for all, especially for those on this side, across the way.
Lights of brilliance and babbles squinted and stretched wide the eyes of the pious and the marveled. They ran across the way to see what sparkled next, what was less or more expensive, the best, the biggest, and brightest or the most. After the acquiring of trinkets and loot were brought back to residences of glitter and preference, brought in through doorways, windows, and chimneys, all of which is not required or afforded across the way. In a word, they ran away and denounced such things as ludicrous – the words scribed in a pretty Good Book:
“This,” saith the Lord, “learn not the way of the heathen; for the heathen are dismayed at them, for the customs of the people are vain; for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not. But, they are altogether brutish and foolish: the stock is a doctrine of vanities.”
~Jeremiah, Chp. 10~
Can you not see, o’ ye across the way?
The ball dropped and fell down the pole. They ran across the way to see… The newly entered year was seized with revel and joyous behavior. Will it be short lived? I think yes… The old and the weak stayed away from the celebration for fear of being trampled by the maddened crowd, in their attempt to get the best spot – across the way.
The people, who knew not what they do, boasted the image of Him with looks of falsehood. His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were as a flame of fire. Trojan lands were under siege.
“I know thy works, and tribulations, and poverty, but thou art rich and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are the Jews, and are not, but are the Synagogue of Satan” – although Enoch walked with God across the way.
Cain dwelt in the land of Nod, east of Eden; the earthen giants were children of angels and the human female. The daughters of man were indeed fair.
Multitudes of the unemployed held hope by the throat in strained attempts to believe the elected would, sooner or later, do the right thing – for those across the way. They were running to get across the way – in pursuit, in a foolish attempt of evading the Most High, to escape from the avenging archangel in the night, or Satan himself – to catch the naked Black Man before he could reach the safety of freedom across the way.
The ones on the other side of the aisle stretched with strained limbs, reached out with portentous contention, endeavoring to show them the light of the righteous.
“Do not leave the session now – do not leave when we are needed the most – your homes are intact and well endowed. Is it not our duty, our responsibility to see to it that all are just as secure? Is it not our charge to provide so that they can make it over there, across the way? We beseech thee, to the last just and sober soul, come back inside and live up to the honor that has been bestowed upon thee; for the people, by the people, and for the people. Even if one creed does not support the other, the colloquial destiny is one.
Cherries and fantasy enfold the living belief of life inside the liquid crystal display. Several survivors of the dinner hour sit seated eagerly awaiting their turn to contribute his or her day’s experience. Parental loving pride casts a mighty beacon throughout the land of freedom town. The totality of the union, (for the moment), superlatively overwhelms the surrounding host of despair. The lack of oneness is the ultimate sacrifice mankind has submitted – given in to Satan. His power resides in the destruction of mankind. Many are duped into the following and faith of individuality, contempt, separation, and isolation of the masses. For as long as we are not capable of understanding and communication, how can there be total cohesion, peace, and equality amongst us? In believing that one is mightier than the other, better than your God – the curse bestowed upon those who built the ‘Tower of Babel,’ falls and spreads throughout the lands of the world, across the way; allowing Satan’s victorious smile.
Gladiators of the grid iron, hoop, and diamonds of dirt, ring of passion and rope, or Olympian trials are bestowed with greatness from admiring eyes. Richness and wealth has befallen them. Who is now the master and who is to be the servant? Cold cereal, shaving razors, soda pop, and beer is presented with scantily clad light and white complected females, boasting their breasts and bottoms with pride, supported by rich green dollars of slobbering alcohol drenched, back slapping neophytes and Neanderthals. Waitresses are pinched, kissed, and slapped in the name of jest, subtlety, and lust. Giant screen television with lifelike dramatizations and alienations saturate the horde of rampaging elbow-benders galore. The reach across the way was caught by the studious husband of a flirtatious wife, even though he had completed his condemned covenant breaking rendezvous, returning from across the way.
Griping and groaning, because the snow won’t stop falling when they wanted it to. Did the snow fall purposely to mess up their day, to ruin their plans? What are the benefits of snow while you work the shovel and throw the stuff over there – across the way? Have you been sick? Had a cold? What do you think happens to the spittle found all over the sidewalks when the old dirty snow is melted, shoveled, scooped, and piled over there – across the way?
Cars, buses, trucks, trains and planes have succumbed to the wrath of the winter’s inclement onslaught. Its highways and byways smothered in white fluff and icy-cold. The trees, many of them elderly, reluctant to bearing the weight of stuff falling on them from the sky. They’ve decided and were forced to bend and break and utilize suburban houses and support poles as buffers on their way downward to restful sidewalks and grounds, there across the way.
The humans, many of highly secured and “well-to-do” means, were suddenly and abruptly denied their basic needs. Never mind the ones who’ve lived their lives continually, without the things they take for granted.
The cold winds howled and blew. It huffed and puffed and blew everything down. Water pipes froze and burst. Many wiped their dry mouths lusting with thirst, for want of a glass of water. After several days, the agony began to drive them mad – to the brink of murder. The lights were off. The TV didn’t work. The Kindle would not fire due to the dead and dying batteries. Nowhere was any convenient every day, ordinary power of any kind. Transportation was no longer an optional package of consideration for them over there, across the way.
The car started up fine, but it was of no use, no good. There were no longer available amenities for the cute little cul-de-sacs that were now pools of plight and despair, brewing a pending inevitable platform for starvation. Hot, live electric wires and power lines were untouchable, unapproachable. No more matches, paper, or firewood was available for lighting warmth in the fireplace. The gas grill was empty of propane. The charcoal grill killed a few families who didn’t wish to freeze to death in the safety of their broken, busted, and exposed homes.
One guy wondered, “What did the Indians do? Are we going to die like the pilgrim settlers, leaving the safety of the sea going vessels that carried them here to the Americas? I remember that wagon train in the western time mountains – they got stuck in hundreds of feet of snow and began to eat each other for survival. What did they use for a cook fire? Where are the Indians when you need them? They could help us survive! Please, won’t somebody tell us what to do?”
Some of the residents were fortunate enough to make the shelter circuit. Two weeks in, the repair crews were indefatigable in their dedication of restoring power to the various out of town communities.
The heavy-set Black Man, a power company supervisor, addressed the derelict destitute and depraved semi-homeless vagrants. He paid them a cordial visit, simply to reassure them, and report the power teams’ daily progress. He wanted to let them know how soon they could begin to return to their homes. But that was not to be. Savage and unjustly attacked was he. They hit him with verbal assaults from any and every direction. They wanted satisfaction now – right now.
“You are telling a damned lie! We are tired of waiting for you slow moving useless and worthless jabber jaws!”
He tried in vain to calm the people, none of which who looked like him. When he could not bring peace and control to the raucous group, he reached for his belongings that had been taken from him. They stole his lunch box, books and papers he’d brought to the meeting, and grabbed for his outer clothing. They were confiscated as well. He bolted from the room screaming into his cell phone and radio for help that would never come. Losing the radio as he made his life saving escape, the rampaging entities of the helpless suburbanites with the appearance of chalk-faced zombies, turned on and began attacking each other. They could not see eye-to-eye, they could not reason with any inkling of sanity. They came from over there, across the way.
The wind, rain, snow, and ice stopped falling – then after six hours had past, began again for twenty-four more hours. It all stopped and subsided, then left completely. It was clear that someone, something was watching them. It, Them, She, or He was watching to see how the tables had turned – how the tide has fared… The One who is The Most High, the One who sat and watched them of means – when it is all gone. He saw what they did, how they did…from over there – across the way.
Til Next Time…
"Arc of the Prophet"
http://arcoftheprophet.blogspot.com/
“NINETY and FIVE”
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blo...
http://ninetyandfive.blogspot.com
"Black Robbers"
http://club.hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/b...
"The Colour of the Old West"
http://colouroftheoldwest.blogspot.com/
"Black American Freedon Fighters" - "What Is A Man Who Does Not Make The World Better?"
http://blackamericanfreedomfighters.b...
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
"As The Clock Turns"
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cont...
http://astheclockturns.blogspot.com/
"The Black Book"
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor...
“SHAMAN”
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
"Arc of the Prophet"
http://arcoftheprophet.blogspot.com/
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress....
“Seeker of Wisdom, Truth, and Justice: BEREAN”
http://seekerofwisdomtruthandjusticeb...
*/
December 24, 2013
“A Question of Merit”
/*
“A Question of Merit”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
Has someone sent you a free Ebook or PDF containing valid and thorough research and content? Did you read it and submit a comment, editorial, or review? No? Have you considered the time and work the author has sacrificed? What about you? Have you been dissed when someone promised to read your material, post a review and/or comment? How did you feel when the promisor welched and pretended not to know you?
Many authors offer free copies of their books and written material only to have the work kicked to the wayside. They offer discounts with hopes of receiving positive and constructive feedback in order to provide a venue or model for improvement. every author is not a writer for profit! think about it… Wouldn’t it be a good thing if authors simply wished people would just read their work in hope of offering you, the reader, some additional fodder towards the improvement to your life journey? How many books have you read in your lifetime? Did you make it through school without the help and guidance of a book?
Would it be discourteous to think that people who receive gifts should acknowledge the fact? Would it be politically wrong to believe that when folks accept written material they should say whether it is a good read or a bad one? Would it be wrong for someone to not say anything to the giver of goods? What would your parents say to you if they knew that you had been rude…or have displayed rude behavior by lying to a person who has been told “I’ll read it later” or “I have to obtain another copy…I’ll buy one later,” after displaying an interest while receiving the work? Is this how you would raise your children? Would you have them live their lives practicing falsehood? What about complacency…would it be polite to expect something for nothing? Would it matter to you that the giver has gone through great expense, time, effort, personal sacrifice in producing said material? Where you really raised to practice such chicanery? How would you feel if promises were brought to bear with the trust and belief in the ones who say they are your family, friends, or colleagues? Don’t you think that expected action undelivered would cause a delay in posterity to the interpolate contribution?
Bona fide authors give a great deal of their time (sometimes it takes years, a lifetime) and effort in order to create. If it were not for writers, what would we know about anything? This action tacitly creates a portentous display of petulance on the part of the receiver who would, in many circumstances, participate in the endeavor to discuss a particular piece of work or author in a position that would describe the writer posthumously.
I wouldn’t like to see this happen to you or any other contributor… Neither would my parents.
(This article was posted to ‘Twitter’ in anticipation of reader accessibility on the social site of ‘Black In America.’ The Club membership will not allow public access, so it’s posted on this great forum, ‘WordPress’ for the world to see…).
There’s nothing like the feel of intelligent, funny, beauty, wonder, and all of the superlative gifts that reading brings through the touch of fingers commandeering a book! The text betwixt the binder and the leafing control of the mind and skin combine the soul and spirit encompassed by the journey of thought.
Should you ever receive a free book from someone, stop, take a minute, say thank you…and do comment to the positive or contrary.
The most accessible enlightenment is a book…read one today and every day after that!
Peace and Love,
Greg.
*/
“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fk...
>
Thank you Gregory. The things you are saying in the above article are right on target. I think that people often imagine that writers write because it is easy for them. You can buy someone a hot dog and they’ll think you’re a downright good fellow. Give them a book and they’ll think, “What the heck?” I’ve written.
Curt Tilleraas
>
Thank you Curt for your most welcomed comment. You too, are absolutely correct. Many folks believe that writers/authors write because there’s a motive for money and fame. What about the ones who write because they have to/ the ones who write because they are compelled to do so, for one reason or another…me, I do it because “I’m about My Fathers’ Work!” Oh yeah, I like to write as well. Albeit, on many occasions I don’t…
The family? No one in my family (except my wife) has read my books. My Mother only read one of them because she was laid up in a hospital bed for a few weeks. And even then, I brought the book (“HALLOW”) to her. One would think a mother to be proud that her son has become a bona fide author – go figure.
There were only two people who actually provided a decent review to two of my books on the Amazon platform.
Best of Luck to you on your publications Curt.
~
The Question/Statement:
‘Strategic Book Publishing and Rights Agency – SBPRA/LinkedIn’
“I deplore the growing practice of offering books for free or just a few cents. Yes, authors are desperate to get their books out there, but should they be so devaluing months and years of work?”
>
Like many authors, I too, have played at the giveaway game… I thought it a novel way in getting noticed and snagging a comment or two. It didn’t play out that way. I did, however, get email and ‘word-of-mouth promises to read the work or promises to obtain it, regardless of the fact that I’ve offered to give away a free copy. It’s difficult enough to get someone to sit down and read anything, except if it’s on a device of technological influence, let alone competing with hundreds of thousands of (perhaps billions) writers attempting to get them to look at theirs; giving your book(s) away can feel pretty self- defeating.
I did receive a really decent review on the ‘Amazon’ Platform.
A simple man am I, endeavoring to help the mind and soul expand with subtlety or not to the better. For, “What is a Man/Woman who doesn’t help to make the World Better?”
“The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste. Albeit, a worthy Investment for the Future.”
“It’s Not The Things You Know, It’s The Things You Know That Just Ain’t So!”
Peace and Love,
Greg.
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
*/
>
/*
“Article Posting Sites”
http://www.blogger.com/profile/109109...
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.wordpr...
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-b...
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=...
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/2...
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/pr...
B2B:
https://www.exploreb2b.com/articles/t...
*/
“A Question of Merit”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
Has someone sent you a free Ebook or PDF containing valid and thorough research and content? Did you read it and submit a comment, editorial, or review? No? Have you considered the time and work the author has sacrificed? What about you? Have you been dissed when someone promised to read your material, post a review and/or comment? How did you feel when the promisor welched and pretended not to know you?
Many authors offer free copies of their books and written material only to have the work kicked to the wayside. They offer discounts with hopes of receiving positive and constructive feedback in order to provide a venue or model for improvement. every author is not a writer for profit! think about it… Wouldn’t it be a good thing if authors simply wished people would just read their work in hope of offering you, the reader, some additional fodder towards the improvement to your life journey? How many books have you read in your lifetime? Did you make it through school without the help and guidance of a book?
Would it be discourteous to think that people who receive gifts should acknowledge the fact? Would it be politically wrong to believe that when folks accept written material they should say whether it is a good read or a bad one? Would it be wrong for someone to not say anything to the giver of goods? What would your parents say to you if they knew that you had been rude…or have displayed rude behavior by lying to a person who has been told “I’ll read it later” or “I have to obtain another copy…I’ll buy one later,” after displaying an interest while receiving the work? Is this how you would raise your children? Would you have them live their lives practicing falsehood? What about complacency…would it be polite to expect something for nothing? Would it matter to you that the giver has gone through great expense, time, effort, personal sacrifice in producing said material? Where you really raised to practice such chicanery? How would you feel if promises were brought to bear with the trust and belief in the ones who say they are your family, friends, or colleagues? Don’t you think that expected action undelivered would cause a delay in posterity to the interpolate contribution?
Bona fide authors give a great deal of their time (sometimes it takes years, a lifetime) and effort in order to create. If it were not for writers, what would we know about anything? This action tacitly creates a portentous display of petulance on the part of the receiver who would, in many circumstances, participate in the endeavor to discuss a particular piece of work or author in a position that would describe the writer posthumously.
I wouldn’t like to see this happen to you or any other contributor… Neither would my parents.
(This article was posted to ‘Twitter’ in anticipation of reader accessibility on the social site of ‘Black In America.’ The Club membership will not allow public access, so it’s posted on this great forum, ‘WordPress’ for the world to see…).
There’s nothing like the feel of intelligent, funny, beauty, wonder, and all of the superlative gifts that reading brings through the touch of fingers commandeering a book! The text betwixt the binder and the leafing control of the mind and skin combine the soul and spirit encompassed by the journey of thought.
Should you ever receive a free book from someone, stop, take a minute, say thank you…and do comment to the positive or contrary.
The most accessible enlightenment is a book…read one today and every day after that!
Peace and Love,
Greg.
*/
“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fk...
>
Thank you Gregory. The things you are saying in the above article are right on target. I think that people often imagine that writers write because it is easy for them. You can buy someone a hot dog and they’ll think you’re a downright good fellow. Give them a book and they’ll think, “What the heck?” I’ve written.
Curt Tilleraas
>
Thank you Curt for your most welcomed comment. You too, are absolutely correct. Many folks believe that writers/authors write because there’s a motive for money and fame. What about the ones who write because they have to/ the ones who write because they are compelled to do so, for one reason or another…me, I do it because “I’m about My Fathers’ Work!” Oh yeah, I like to write as well. Albeit, on many occasions I don’t…
The family? No one in my family (except my wife) has read my books. My Mother only read one of them because she was laid up in a hospital bed for a few weeks. And even then, I brought the book (“HALLOW”) to her. One would think a mother to be proud that her son has become a bona fide author – go figure.
There were only two people who actually provided a decent review to two of my books on the Amazon platform.
Best of Luck to you on your publications Curt.
~
The Question/Statement:
‘Strategic Book Publishing and Rights Agency – SBPRA/LinkedIn’
“I deplore the growing practice of offering books for free or just a few cents. Yes, authors are desperate to get their books out there, but should they be so devaluing months and years of work?”
>
Like many authors, I too, have played at the giveaway game… I thought it a novel way in getting noticed and snagging a comment or two. It didn’t play out that way. I did, however, get email and ‘word-of-mouth promises to read the work or promises to obtain it, regardless of the fact that I’ve offered to give away a free copy. It’s difficult enough to get someone to sit down and read anything, except if it’s on a device of technological influence, let alone competing with hundreds of thousands of (perhaps billions) writers attempting to get them to look at theirs; giving your book(s) away can feel pretty self- defeating.
I did receive a really decent review on the ‘Amazon’ Platform.
A simple man am I, endeavoring to help the mind and soul expand with subtlety or not to the better. For, “What is a Man/Woman who doesn’t help to make the World Better?”
“The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste. Albeit, a worthy Investment for the Future.”
“It’s Not The Things You Know, It’s The Things You Know That Just Ain’t So!”
Peace and Love,
Greg.
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
*/
>
/*
“Article Posting Sites”
http://www.blogger.com/profile/109109...
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.wordpr...
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-b...
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=...
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/2...
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/pr...
B2B:
https://www.exploreb2b.com/articles/t...
*/
October 25, 2013
“SHAMAN”
“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.
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.
Native Americans, New Agers, and charlatans alike have radically augmented and revised the tenets of traditional Native American religions. "Crystal skull caretakers" sit beside Native American medicine men and medicine women, shamans and priests, and "Star Beings," rather than buffalo, are pondered. Outraged Native Americans have entered this fray, castigating those they see exploiting traditional Native American spirituality.
These medicine men or spiritual leaders were in a different class than the other men of their tribe. This special status was not dependent on their hunting and fishing. Contact with other tribes enabled thinkers to build and expand their belief frameworks, so medicine men or spiritual leaders were more prevalent in tribes that were accessible to outsiders.
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.
Indian medicine men, spiritual leaders, priests and shamans
http://www.aaanativearts.com/medicine...
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.
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 him 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.
“The understanding of the racial question does not ultimately involve understanding by either Black or Indians. It involves the white man himself. He must re-examine his past. He must face the problems he has created within himself and within others. The white man must no longer project his fears and insecurities onto other groups, race, and countries. Before the white man can relate to others he must forego the pleasure of defining them.”
~Vine Deloria Jr. – Samuel L. Katz, Black Indians, a Hidden Heritage~
For the people of the ‘Americas’ the arrival of Columbus was hardly a blessing. On his first day, October 12, 1492, the explorer wrote in his diary – “I took some of the natives by force.” He later found the original inhabitants to be tractable, peaceable, and concluded ‘there is not in the world a better nation.” His response as a European was to say that Indians must be made to work and adopt our ways.
The Columbus whose unique seamanship opened the Americas to European penetration also began the transatlantic slave trade. He started by shipping ten chained ‘Arawak’ men and women to Seville, Spain. In 1498, he wrote enthusiastically to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella about the business possibilities. “From here, in the name of the blessed Trinity, we can send all the slaves that can be sold.”
When he loaded 1100 ‘Taino’ men and women aboard the four Spanish ships, the crowding and the stormy Atlantic crossing took a fearful toll. Only three hundred survived. But Columbus and Spain had decided to continue the profitable slave trade from the Americas. Seville became the slave capital of Spain.
Spanish Priests were the first to denounce the horrors of bondage. In 1511 Dominican Friar Montesino called slavery a mortal sin and said cruelty and tyranny over Indians could not be justified by Christians. A few years later Bishop Las Casas, who witnessed countless Indian massacres by his fellow Spaniards, blamed greed for the horrors.
“They kill them because they want to be rich and have much gold, which is their sole aim.” Las Casas concluded that in the New World Spaniards had become devils and Indians were the only true Christians.
Las Casas led a determined effort to halt Indian bondage. He pointed out that Indians died off by the thousands from slavery and European diseases. Forced labor in Spanish mines in the Americas was so harsh that the average worker died before he was twenty-six.
To meet their need for more laborers, Europeans looked next to Africa. The strongest sons and daughters of Africa were seized in their homes and fields or purchased from local traders. They were packed into cargo ships and shipped across the Atlantic.
“Children are torn from their distracted parents; parents from their screaming children; wives from their frantic husbands; husbands from their violated wives; brothers from their loving sisters; sisters from their affectionate brothers. See them collected in flocks, and like a herd of swine, they resist; but all in vain. No eye pities, no hand helps.”
~Thomas Branagan~
The first Africans brought to the New World by European slavers probably arrived in April 1502 aboard the ship that brought the new governor of Hispaniola, Nicholas de Ovando. Soon after they landed, some Africans escaped to the woods and found a new home among the Native Americans. Later that year Governor Ovando sent a request to King Ferdinand that no more Africans be sent to the Americas. His reason was simple – “They fled amongst the Indians and taught them bad customs, and never could be captured.
Why did he feel they could never be retaken? Had the two peoples united as a military force at this early date? Were Native Americans prepared to drive off European slave-hunters? Was an alliance taking shape in the woods between two peoples who opposed the Spanish conquerors?
Governor Ovando described more than a problem of bad, untrustworthy servants. His words are more than a complaint about the difficulties of recapturing fugitives in a tropical rainforest. His words are the first hint of a growing problem for the European masters of the New World, the first notice of a new relationship budding beyond their control.
Africans arrived on these shores with valuable assets for both Europeans and Native Americans. They were used for agriculture labor and working in field gangs, something unfamiliar to most Indians. As experts in tropical agriculture, they had a lot to teach both white and Red people. Africans had a virtual immunity to European diseases such as smallpox, which wiped out Native Americans.
For Europeans seeking a source of labor that could not escape, Africans were ideal because they were three thousand miles from home. They could not flee to loved ones, as Indian slave could. African men and women who fled could always be identified by skin color, and Black became the badge of bondage.
Native Americans soon discovered that Africans had some gifts that made them uniquely valuable. Through their slave experience they qualified as experts on whites – their diplomacy, armaments, motives, strengths, and weaknesses. Escaped slaves came bearing knowledge of their master’s languages, defenses, and plans. Sometimes Africans were able to carry off muskets, machetes, or valuable gunpowder. For these reasons their role could be crucial to Native Americans, their place secure in village life. A common foe, not any special affinity of skin color, became the first link of friendship, the earliest motivation for alliance.
Next the two peoples began to discover they shared some vital views of life. Family was of basic importance to both, with children and the elderly treasured. Religion was a daily part of cultural life, not merely practiced on Sundays. Both Africans and Native Americans found they shared a belief in economic cooperation rather than competition and rivalry. Each people was proud, but neither was weighed down by prejudice. Skill, friendship, and trust, not skin color of race were important. Since Indians willingly adopted people into their villages, Africans found they were welcome.
In the century following Columbus’s landing, millions of Native Americans died from a combination of European diseases, harsh treatment, and murder. Africans took their places in the mines and fields of the New World. The estimated 80 million Native Americans alive in 1492 became only 10 million left alive a century later. But the 10,000 Africans working in the Americas in 1527 had by the end of the century become 90,000 people.
These figures are even more striking within local areas. In 1519 when the Spaniards arrived, Mexico had a population of 25 million Indians. By the end of the century only a million were still alive. The invader calculated that more profit would be made if laborers were worked to death and replaced. In their plans pain and suffering did not count, and no cruelty was considered excessive.
Out of the shifting labor forces a new population emerged of mixed Africans and Native Americans. By 1650 Mexico alone had and African-Indian population of one hundred thousand. Anew race was being born.
In 1510 King Ferdinand, visions of gold dancing before his eyes, lifted all restrictions on sending Africans to the Americas. He promised to send all that were needed and include “a trustworthy person” to be in charge of each group – an overseer. In this way, slave and masters would “share in the gold they may collect” and slaves would receive “ease if they work well.” This was an idle dream.
The slave population expanded, but was never rewarded with ease for its great toil. European masters continued to drive those in chains as hard as they could. Ease only came when people escaped to the forests and swamps. Increasingly Africans and the remaining enslaved Indians fled their masters and created their own secret colonies beyond European eyes. In time these would pose the most disruptive challenge the European colonial system faced in the Americas.
In the age of Columbus and Las Casas this threat was not clear. Europeans counted their profits and kept importing African as slaves. “One Black can do the work of four Indians.” Here, he believed, was a danger worth the price. His fellow Europeans heartily agreed with him. From then on slavery would expand, brutality would keep it in place, and whites would reap enormous profits.
The city is gearing up for a major visit from the 'Vatican' in the fall. The massive fallout of visitors and followers threaten complete and utter gridlock throughout the town. This major event was thought to be trumped by the 'DNC' convention that is sure to shut-down the city and create traffic fallout of nightmarish proportions. The catastrophe at the Philadelphia Zoo was no shot in the arm for peaceful and trouble-free contentions. ‘Rocky’ made his mark at the very same spot the 'Pope' is making his ascension to the podium for the mass commemoration throughout the commodious accommodations for the passage of blessings; touching all the people. Two investigators are assigned to cure this killing cancerous attacker from spreading its evil intent, in this virtual garden and smorgasbord of fresh fleshy meat to eat! Witness the terrifying events as they unfold...Glenn and Samuel along with Philadelphia's citizenry, its counsel leaders, and mayor on one of the most thrillingly dangerous and deadly missions to serve and protect. Gerald Glenn and Willis Samuel are faced with one hell of a dilemma when a juggernaut on a rampage erupts in blood; 'Fairmount Park' and "The City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection!"
“FAIRMOUNT”
http://boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMO...
http://blackhistory.com/content/25797...
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/2...
/*
~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
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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.
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.
Native Americans, New Agers, and charlatans alike have radically augmented and revised the tenets of traditional Native American religions. "Crystal skull caretakers" sit beside Native American medicine men and medicine women, shamans and priests, and "Star Beings," rather than buffalo, are pondered. Outraged Native Americans have entered this fray, castigating those they see exploiting traditional Native American spirituality.
These medicine men or spiritual leaders were in a different class than the other men of their tribe. This special status was not dependent on their hunting and fishing. Contact with other tribes enabled thinkers to build and expand their belief frameworks, so medicine men or spiritual leaders were more prevalent in tribes that were accessible to outsiders.
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.
Indian medicine men, spiritual leaders, priests and shamans
http://www.aaanativearts.com/medicine...
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.
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 him 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.
“The understanding of the racial question does not ultimately involve understanding by either Black or Indians. It involves the white man himself. He must re-examine his past. He must face the problems he has created within himself and within others. The white man must no longer project his fears and insecurities onto other groups, race, and countries. Before the white man can relate to others he must forego the pleasure of defining them.”
~Vine Deloria Jr. – Samuel L. Katz, Black Indians, a Hidden Heritage~
For the people of the ‘Americas’ the arrival of Columbus was hardly a blessing. On his first day, October 12, 1492, the explorer wrote in his diary – “I took some of the natives by force.” He later found the original inhabitants to be tractable, peaceable, and concluded ‘there is not in the world a better nation.” His response as a European was to say that Indians must be made to work and adopt our ways.
The Columbus whose unique seamanship opened the Americas to European penetration also began the transatlantic slave trade. He started by shipping ten chained ‘Arawak’ men and women to Seville, Spain. In 1498, he wrote enthusiastically to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella about the business possibilities. “From here, in the name of the blessed Trinity, we can send all the slaves that can be sold.”
When he loaded 1100 ‘Taino’ men and women aboard the four Spanish ships, the crowding and the stormy Atlantic crossing took a fearful toll. Only three hundred survived. But Columbus and Spain had decided to continue the profitable slave trade from the Americas. Seville became the slave capital of Spain.
Spanish Priests were the first to denounce the horrors of bondage. In 1511 Dominican Friar Montesino called slavery a mortal sin and said cruelty and tyranny over Indians could not be justified by Christians. A few years later Bishop Las Casas, who witnessed countless Indian massacres by his fellow Spaniards, blamed greed for the horrors.
“They kill them because they want to be rich and have much gold, which is their sole aim.” Las Casas concluded that in the New World Spaniards had become devils and Indians were the only true Christians.
Las Casas led a determined effort to halt Indian bondage. He pointed out that Indians died off by the thousands from slavery and European diseases. Forced labor in Spanish mines in the Americas was so harsh that the average worker died before he was twenty-six.
To meet their need for more laborers, Europeans looked next to Africa. The strongest sons and daughters of Africa were seized in their homes and fields or purchased from local traders. They were packed into cargo ships and shipped across the Atlantic.
“Children are torn from their distracted parents; parents from their screaming children; wives from their frantic husbands; husbands from their violated wives; brothers from their loving sisters; sisters from their affectionate brothers. See them collected in flocks, and like a herd of swine, they resist; but all in vain. No eye pities, no hand helps.”
~Thomas Branagan~
The first Africans brought to the New World by European slavers probably arrived in April 1502 aboard the ship that brought the new governor of Hispaniola, Nicholas de Ovando. Soon after they landed, some Africans escaped to the woods and found a new home among the Native Americans. Later that year Governor Ovando sent a request to King Ferdinand that no more Africans be sent to the Americas. His reason was simple – “They fled amongst the Indians and taught them bad customs, and never could be captured.
Why did he feel they could never be retaken? Had the two peoples united as a military force at this early date? Were Native Americans prepared to drive off European slave-hunters? Was an alliance taking shape in the woods between two peoples who opposed the Spanish conquerors?
Governor Ovando described more than a problem of bad, untrustworthy servants. His words are more than a complaint about the difficulties of recapturing fugitives in a tropical rainforest. His words are the first hint of a growing problem for the European masters of the New World, the first notice of a new relationship budding beyond their control.
Africans arrived on these shores with valuable assets for both Europeans and Native Americans. They were used for agriculture labor and working in field gangs, something unfamiliar to most Indians. As experts in tropical agriculture, they had a lot to teach both white and Red people. Africans had a virtual immunity to European diseases such as smallpox, which wiped out Native Americans.
For Europeans seeking a source of labor that could not escape, Africans were ideal because they were three thousand miles from home. They could not flee to loved ones, as Indian slave could. African men and women who fled could always be identified by skin color, and Black became the badge of bondage.
Native Americans soon discovered that Africans had some gifts that made them uniquely valuable. Through their slave experience they qualified as experts on whites – their diplomacy, armaments, motives, strengths, and weaknesses. Escaped slaves came bearing knowledge of their master’s languages, defenses, and plans. Sometimes Africans were able to carry off muskets, machetes, or valuable gunpowder. For these reasons their role could be crucial to Native Americans, their place secure in village life. A common foe, not any special affinity of skin color, became the first link of friendship, the earliest motivation for alliance.
Next the two peoples began to discover they shared some vital views of life. Family was of basic importance to both, with children and the elderly treasured. Religion was a daily part of cultural life, not merely practiced on Sundays. Both Africans and Native Americans found they shared a belief in economic cooperation rather than competition and rivalry. Each people was proud, but neither was weighed down by prejudice. Skill, friendship, and trust, not skin color of race were important. Since Indians willingly adopted people into their villages, Africans found they were welcome.
In the century following Columbus’s landing, millions of Native Americans died from a combination of European diseases, harsh treatment, and murder. Africans took their places in the mines and fields of the New World. The estimated 80 million Native Americans alive in 1492 became only 10 million left alive a century later. But the 10,000 Africans working in the Americas in 1527 had by the end of the century become 90,000 people.
These figures are even more striking within local areas. In 1519 when the Spaniards arrived, Mexico had a population of 25 million Indians. By the end of the century only a million were still alive. The invader calculated that more profit would be made if laborers were worked to death and replaced. In their plans pain and suffering did not count, and no cruelty was considered excessive.
Out of the shifting labor forces a new population emerged of mixed Africans and Native Americans. By 1650 Mexico alone had and African-Indian population of one hundred thousand. Anew race was being born.
In 1510 King Ferdinand, visions of gold dancing before his eyes, lifted all restrictions on sending Africans to the Americas. He promised to send all that were needed and include “a trustworthy person” to be in charge of each group – an overseer. In this way, slave and masters would “share in the gold they may collect” and slaves would receive “ease if they work well.” This was an idle dream.
The slave population expanded, but was never rewarded with ease for its great toil. European masters continued to drive those in chains as hard as they could. Ease only came when people escaped to the forests and swamps. Increasingly Africans and the remaining enslaved Indians fled their masters and created their own secret colonies beyond European eyes. In time these would pose the most disruptive challenge the European colonial system faced in the Americas.
In the age of Columbus and Las Casas this threat was not clear. Europeans counted their profits and kept importing African as slaves. “One Black can do the work of four Indians.” Here, he believed, was a danger worth the price. His fellow Europeans heartily agreed with him. From then on slavery would expand, brutality would keep it in place, and whites would reap enormous profits.
The city is gearing up for a major visit from the 'Vatican' in the fall. The massive fallout of visitors and followers threaten complete and utter gridlock throughout the town. This major event was thought to be trumped by the 'DNC' convention that is sure to shut-down the city and create traffic fallout of nightmarish proportions. The catastrophe at the Philadelphia Zoo was no shot in the arm for peaceful and trouble-free contentions. ‘Rocky’ made his mark at the very same spot the 'Pope' is making his ascension to the podium for the mass commemoration throughout the commodious accommodations for the passage of blessings; touching all the people. Two investigators are assigned to cure this killing cancerous attacker from spreading its evil intent, in this virtual garden and smorgasbord of fresh fleshy meat to eat! Witness the terrifying events as they unfold...Glenn and Samuel along with Philadelphia's citizenry, its counsel leaders, and mayor on one of the most thrillingly dangerous and deadly missions to serve and protect. Gerald Glenn and Willis Samuel are faced with one hell of a dilemma when a juggernaut on a rampage erupts in blood; 'Fairmount Park' and "The City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection!"
“FAIRMOUNT”
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October 21, 2013
“A QUESTION OF TIME”
/*
“A QUESTION OF TIME
By
Gregory V. Boulware
Who, on this planet, has found themselves getting into trouble more than our own iconic yet studious, Henry Bemis?
I can truthfully testify that I have, just like many of us who are avid and ferocious readers, the hunger and thirst that has gotten us into precarious situations at one time or another. You’ve forgotten the time, place, or the arduous task of tardiness in responsibilities due to engrossment in a particular book, encouraging the wrath of right now.
The written works of Herbert George Wells will undoubtedly take you away from where you are to the time and place unknown to you, except within a dream or the imagination. Albeit, the text utilized by the author is equally guilty.
I’m sure the suggested points have sparked a few memories of the time that you’ve forgotten about the pot on the stove, the bottle of refreshment left in the freezer, or that you were supposed to pick up someone from the train or bus station an hour ago, all because you got lost in a book.
Mr. Serling’s, (11.20.59) “Time Enough At Last,” has depicted the desire and attributes that many of us share with friend Bemis – except being persecuted by an unscrupulous chastising spouse (or significant other) who desecrates all of the reading material throughout the house; or that despicable and cantankerous old grouch of a supervisor or employer who ridicules and denigrates the idea of reading by insulting and/or embarrassing you with threats of dismissing you simply because you love to read. They make it a mortal crime because you and I desire nothing more than the sheer pleasure of sharing and discussing the book contents or something that you’ve read, with those who haven’t read it or do not read at all.
I would not wish to share the experience of enduring or surviving the explosion and destruction of a Hydrogen Bomb blast with all eradication of living things. However, I can or could enjoy the sheer rapture of possessing the entire contents of all the libraries of the world and being able to read to my heart’s content without being disturbed or villainized for being gifted with imagination and the pure joy of reading.
Imagine that. With all the time in the world, having at your fingertips, all the books you’ll ever need or want, without losing your reading glasses.
Just in case you do wear glasses, better make sure you have more than one pair.
Til next time…
A question of time?
View: “We The Matrix”
http://wethematrix.blogspot.com/
*/
The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals
“A QUESTION OF TIME
By
Gregory V. Boulware
Who, on this planet, has found themselves getting into trouble more than our own iconic yet studious, Henry Bemis?
I can truthfully testify that I have, just like many of us who are avid and ferocious readers, the hunger and thirst that has gotten us into precarious situations at one time or another. You’ve forgotten the time, place, or the arduous task of tardiness in responsibilities due to engrossment in a particular book, encouraging the wrath of right now.
The written works of Herbert George Wells will undoubtedly take you away from where you are to the time and place unknown to you, except within a dream or the imagination. Albeit, the text utilized by the author is equally guilty.
I’m sure the suggested points have sparked a few memories of the time that you’ve forgotten about the pot on the stove, the bottle of refreshment left in the freezer, or that you were supposed to pick up someone from the train or bus station an hour ago, all because you got lost in a book.
Mr. Serling’s, (11.20.59) “Time Enough At Last,” has depicted the desire and attributes that many of us share with friend Bemis – except being persecuted by an unscrupulous chastising spouse (or significant other) who desecrates all of the reading material throughout the house; or that despicable and cantankerous old grouch of a supervisor or employer who ridicules and denigrates the idea of reading by insulting and/or embarrassing you with threats of dismissing you simply because you love to read. They make it a mortal crime because you and I desire nothing more than the sheer pleasure of sharing and discussing the book contents or something that you’ve read, with those who haven’t read it or do not read at all.
I would not wish to share the experience of enduring or surviving the explosion and destruction of a Hydrogen Bomb blast with all eradication of living things. However, I can or could enjoy the sheer rapture of possessing the entire contents of all the libraries of the world and being able to read to my heart’s content without being disturbed or villainized for being gifted with imagination and the pure joy of reading.
Imagine that. With all the time in the world, having at your fingertips, all the books you’ll ever need or want, without losing your reading glasses.
Just in case you do wear glasses, better make sure you have more than one pair.
Til next time…
A question of time?
View: “We The Matrix”
http://wethematrix.blogspot.com/
*/
The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals
July 18, 2012
Destruction and Creation - A New Jobs Hyperbole
It definitely takes new tactics and skill sets in order to acquire a position in the new world of IT, Communications, and Analytics. Sentiment Analysis is gauging the mood of Social Networks and is being incorporated by companies monitoring Community-Driven Websites.
January 19, 2012
The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals: Whence Comest Thou?
The tribes of Judah, Benjamin, and Levi were forced out of the Land of Israel around 70 AD. This was due to the Hebrew-Roman wars that resulted in the deaths of thousands of Black Hebrew Israelites. Primarily women, men, and children were slaughtered by an over powering Army. No man has ever appealed to the mass imagination of the world and so played upon our feelings, as has Jesus of Nazareth.
June 15, 2011
The Land of OZ and The Land of Babel
Many attempts were made to relay the fact that "Something Wicked This Way Comes!" But they wouldn't listen, would they? They all thought,"this little girl is crazy!" It took extraordinary events to come to pass in order for them to maybe understand that everything we need depends each other and on one primary entity.
May 13, 2011
Zarganar - The Political Comedian
The third ruler asked when his country would have enough water and electricity. This time, according to Christopher Rhoads of the Wall Street Journal, 10.18.07, it was God who broke into tears, saying "Not in My Life!"
