Yesterday is gone forever,
into the realms of what could have,
should have, or might have been.
Tomorrow is our faithful expectation
of God's continued grace.
But if we are to truly appreciate Today,
then we must accept it as a precious gift
called the Present.
And, whether this day brings sunshine
or rain, pleasure or pain,
we are blessed to share our
trials and our triumphs, our mountains,
and our molehills
with family.
Paul Howard Nicholas
Plowing through a mini tornado of dust and trash that suddenly engulfed the sidewalk, Jimmy "Blue” Waters clutched his collar, held his breath, and continued the four block trudge to his job.
His visions of freedom, while serving time in state prison for selling cocaine, had not included the harsh realities of life for a twenty-nine year old ex-con with a tenth grade education.
As he watched the morning rush of drivers whiz past him, protected from the whirling March winds inside their warm cars, Blue realized that, in many ways, he was no better off on the streets of Los Angeles than he’d been in state prison.
Trapped behind the walls of a subsistence job and a strict parole officer, Blue felt like he was still doing time. Even the bathroom he shared with an assortment of losers in the cheap rooming house reminded him of prison: dirty, broken mirrors reflecting fractured dreams.
And just as he’d often done in prison, Blue thought about putting together an escape plan.
The sudden appearance of a black-and-white patrol car next to him put his thoughts in check. Blue watched from the corner of his eye as the police car slowed enough to allow the two white officers inside to get a good look at him.
When the car finally sped away, Blue relaxed, feeling very much like a small fish that had been tossed back into a pond.
By the time he pushed through the double glass doors of Henry’s House of Bar-B-Que, Blue's sunshine mask was firmly in place. “Good morning, ladies,” he called out to his two co-workers.
“’Good morning, Blue,” they chimed.
Peggy, the matronly grandmother, was busy unloading and stacking the Styrofoam containers they would use to fill orders.
The young one, Mildred, loading receipt paper into the cash register, as always, gave Blue a big smile.
Blue smiled back, thinking about the possibilities with Mildred if she ever managed to lose thirty pounds.
“Mr. Henry said he needs to see you,” said Mildred.
Blue headed to the locker area, hung up his jacket and cap, and donned his butcher’s apron. “Did he say what he wants?”
“No, he didn’t. He just asked us to tell you to come to his office as soon as you got here.”
“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Blue finished tying his apron strings and headed for the small office in the back room. He knocked on the door and heard the familiar gruff voice invite him in.
Charlie Henry was the type of man Blue respected. In the thirty years since his arrival from Mississippi, the short, stocky owner of Henry’s House of Bar-B-Que and Henry’s Dry Cleaners had worked his way up from fry cook at a downtown hotel to successful business man.
“Morning, Mr. Henry. Mildred said you wanted to see me.”
“Good morning, Blue. Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Puffing on his ever present cigar, Charlie Henry punched a few more entries into the adding machine on his crowded desk. Apparently satisfied with the tally, he stretched and leaned back in his comfortable chair.
“Blue, I guess I should tell you that when we hired you six months ago, I had serious doubts about whether things would work out. After seeing so many guys get out of jail and go right back to acting a fool, I really didn’t think hiring you was such a good idea.”
Blue shifted uneasily in his chair.
“But I took a chance,” continued Charlie Henry. “And I’m glad I did. From day one you’ve proven to be a reliable worker. And you seem to have a special gift when it comes to dealing with people. My wife told me about how you handled those drunks in here the other day.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Mr. Henry. I just did what I had to do.” Blue shifted again, trying to get a grip on what his boss was saying. He was unaccustomed to receiving praise.
“Well, I just wanted to say thanks for keeping things from getting out of hand,” said Charlie Henry. “But I didn’t call you in here to fill your ears with a lot of words and send you on your way. That wouldn’t do either of us much good.”
Charlie Henry clasped his hands together, propped his elbows on his desk, and looked straight into Blue's eyes. “Blue,” he said, “sometimes all a man needs to make something of himself is a chance. Nobody knows how many people there are in the world that are locked up, or wasting their brains on dope, that could have been successful if somebody had given them a real chance.”
Checking his watch, Charlie Henry cut his sermon short. “But, like I said, Blue, I didn’t call you in here just to give you a pat on the back. So, if you’re interested in a chance for advancement, and if you think you’d like to settle down and make a life for yourself, I’m prepared to offer you a promotion and a salary that would pay a lot more than the hourly wage you’re getting now.”
Blue leaned forward. “What kind of promotion are we talking about?”
“Well,” said Charlie Henry, “we’re going to be opening a new restaurant in the Crenshaw Center in a few months. And since we plan to move my office over there, I was thinking about giving you the job of helping Charlie Jr. run this place and our cleaners next door. I like the way you handle yourself, Blue, and I’m sure you’d make a great assistant manager if you put your mind to it.”
“Are you serious?” Blue couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After all these years, was somebody actually trying to give him a break?
Charlie Henry studied the man across from him carefully. “I’m serious,” he replied. “To start, you’d be in charge of the day shift, supervising the workers here and at the cleaners, ordering supplies, and making sure things run the way they should. I’ve talked to my wife and Charlie Jr. about this and we all feel that you’re the man for the job. But the bigger question is: do you think you’re ready to take on that kind of responsibility?”
The words came automatically. “Absolutely! When do I start?”
“Well, there’s one small hitch,” said Charlie Henry.
“Okay." Blue settled back in his chair.
“Before you start the job, I want you to attend a two week night class sponsored by the Small Business Administration at West View Community College. The course starts a week from today and, since you’re off tomorrow, you should be able to get over there and sign up."
“That’s cool with me,” said Blue.
“Good, good,” replied Charlie Henry. “I guess that settles it then.” The portly man leaned back in his large chair again, puffing his cigar. He was thoroughly satisfied with Blue’s responses and proud of his own ability to give another black man a chance to do something with his life.
Blue rose from his seat and extended his hand. “I sure do appreciate this, Mr. Henry.”
Charlie Henry leaned forward and grasped Blue’s hand. “This is only the beginning,” he said. “We’re going to open several new places in the next few years and, if everything works as planned, you’ll be the first in line to move up even more.”
The rest of the day breezed by as Blue thought about his sudden shower of good fortune. A new, more stable way of life was now within reach.
Blue had never really made it big in the hustling world, mainly because he wasn’t capable of the ruthless disregard for right and wrong it took to be successful in street life. His career, since running away from his last foster home at the age of fifteen, had run the gamut of illicit enterprises, including dope dealing, pimping, bunco, burglary; forgery, grand theft, and robbery.
And although he’d done well at times, he figured that when he counted all the money he’d spent on bondsmen and attorneys, and the years he’d wasted in and out of jail, his average income over the years was less than that of a person who had consistently worked a square job.
But now all of that was behind him. He would trade in his dreams of pulling off the ultimate big score for the reality of hard work and legitimate success. Eventually, he told himself, he would be able to use his new found knowledge to create his own financial empire, just like Charlie Henry.
And he would be able to show Shirley how stupid she was to leave him for a truck driver while he was in prison. Blue chuckled inside when he thought about the jolt of remorse that would shoot through her when she realized she’d missed out on a chance to share his success.
Shortly before quitting time, while turning a slab of ribs, Blue noticed Willie, one of the neighborhood kids, barreling through the front entrance.
Willie cleaned up around Henry’s after school and made deliveries to the poolrooms and taverns near Adams and Western. He was a ten year old hustler and an incorrigible prankster.
“Blue, I gotta show you somethin’, “Willie whispered, motioning for Blue to follow him.
“Can’t you see I’m busy,” replied Blue. He wasn’t about to fall for another one of Willie’s pranks.
But Willie was hope-to-die serious. Glancing up front to make sure Peggy and Mildred were busy, Willie partially unzipped his hoodie, revealing a rolled up paper bag tucked into his pants.
“Come on!” he said. “I gotta show you this!”
Blue reluctantly followed Willie to the storage closet behind the employee lockers. He flipped on the light while Willie hastily opened the paper bag.
Blue peered cautiously into the bag and almost choked when he saw the contents. Inside were four condoms, filled with white powder.
“Where did you get this?” Blue plucked one of the condoms from the bag and started untying the knot at the top.
“I was on my way home from school, over by the freeway,” said Willie. “And this car with two guys in it came speeding down the street. A cop car was chasing 'em. When they turned to get on the freeway ramp, one of the guys threw this bag out the window.”
“Did anybody see you pick it up?”
“Uh… I don’t think so.” Willie stammered.
“Are you sure, Willie? Were there any other kids with you?”
“No, I had to stay for detention. And when I got out, everybody was gone.”
”What about the cops? Did they see them throw the bag?”
Willie shook his head. "They were too far behind.” It was starting to dawn on the boy that maybe he'd gotten himself into something that was way over his head.
Blue finished opening the condom, poked his baby finger into the powder, and touched it to his tongue. “Damn!” he whispered, frowning from the bitter taste.
“What is it, Blue?”
Blue retied the condom and placed it back in the bag.
Okay, look, first of all, I want you to pay attention to what I’m about to say because the guys who had to get rid of this stuff are gonna be real mad when they come back lookin' for it and can’t find it.”
“Maybe I should put it back,” Willie blurted.
“I don’t think that would be too smart." said Blue. "The cops probably have that whole area staked out by now.”
“What is this stuff, Blue?”
“It’s dope, Willie, and it’s enough to get you locked up if the cops catch you with it, or killed if the wrong people find out you have it.”
“Aw, man…” Willie’s eyes were wide as silver dollars."What do you think we should do with it?”
“We got us a real serious situation here," Blue replied. "But it ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle.”
Blue rolled the paper bag back up and slid it into his waistband under his apron. “All you gotta do is keep your mouth shut and we’ll come out of this alright. I think we can make some money off of it after we let things cool down for a while. In the meantime, I’ll hide it, okay?”
Willie nodded, eager to be rid of the bag full of problems.
“But you’ve got to remember what I said.” Blue pressed his index finger against his lips. “Don’t tell anybody about this. If the wrong people find out, we both could end up dead or in jail!”
“Okay, Blue. Whatever you say.”
As soon as he left work, Blue stopped at a pay phone and called his cousin in Hollywood. Billy, Blue’s only relative in L.A. listened halfheartedly until he heard the magic words: “dope and money!”
“I’ll be right over,” said Billy. Like Blue, he was pretty much self-raised.
Sitting on the side of his bed, Billy put the .38 revolver back in the night stand drawer. Blue’s call had interrupted his concentration on a plan to obtain some quick cash. Having just turned twenty-three, Billy was experiencing the bitter end of a two year run of beginner’s luck in the “fast lane.”
He’d missed two payments on his Benz, his landlord was on the verge of padlocking his apartment, he owed a substantial sum to a notoriously narrow-minded drug dealer, and he needed to raise bail money for all three of his girls, busted the previous night in police raids along the Sunset Strip.
But as he drove toward South Central to pick up his cousin, Billy’s attitude brightened considerably. If Blue said there was “big money” in whatever he had going, it was worth looking into.
When they arrived back at Billy’s building, Blue followed Billy to the elevator in the underground parking area.
“You must be doin’ alright, cuz,” said Blue, checking out the expensive cars parked beneath the security high-rise.
“I’ll be doin’ alright when I start owning buildings like this,” chuckled Billy.
Blue smiled. “That day might not be so far away, Billy Boy.”
The elevator ride delivered them to the eighth floor in seconds. Once inside the apartment, Billy performed a test on a sample from Blue’s package. Results from the chemical testing confirmed Blue’s taste test: the innocent looking white powder was indeed the most powerful grade of heroin either of them had ever seen. It could be cut ten times and still overdose a mule.
Blue and Billy slapped high fives and jumped around like two ball players that had just won the World Series. They popped a bottle of champagne from Billy's fridge and lifted a toast to "money, good times, and mo' money!"
The next morning Blue called Charlie Henry and told him he needed some time off. His mother, he said, was on her deathbed in Baytown, Texas and he would never be able to forgive himself if he wasn't there to help comfort her during her final days.
Blue didn’t like the idea of lying to the one person who had tried to help him build a new life—his mother had died after being shot in a bar when he was twelve years old—but when he thought about how he could make more in one day selling drugs than he could in a whole month working for Charlie Henry, he knew his decision to get back into the “fast lane” was a “no-brainer.”
Charlie Henry promised to hold Blue’s job for him as long as he could, and even offered to help with traveling expenses. Blue declined the offer.
Reflecting briefly on the long range plans Charlie Henry had for him, Blue convinced himself that working a regular job was just something he wasn’t cut out to do. He could do it long enough to get his parole officer to cut him some slack but that was about it. The streets were his real home.
He did call Charlie Henry one last time after a couple of weeks to tell him that his mother had died, to thank him for offering him the position, and to lie again. Blue told him that he had contracted hepatitis and wouldn’t be able to work in food service any time soon.
Within a few months of his last conversation with Charlie Henry, Blue had accomplished a high speed version of achieving the American Dream. With Billy handling most of the distribution end of their sixty-forty arrangement, Blue moved from the dingy rooming house to a beach front apartment in Venice and went from traveling via city buses and the “ankle express” to tooling around town in a brand new, powder blue Cadillac Coupe.
He had so many new clothes that he had to tell Billy to stop accepting the suits, leather jackets, slacks, shirts, etc. that junkies brought in lieu of cash for their daily fixes.
Blue kept up the rent on his room and used it as his permanent address. But he only stopped by occasionally to pick up what little mail he received.
And, as luck would have it, Blue’s overbearing parole officer was fired for soliciting sexual favors from females on his case load. The guy who replaced him was a hippy type that didn’t seem to care if Blue dropped off the face of the Earth.
As for Willie, Blue would meet him from time to time leaving school and give him several hundred dollar bills. He always told him to give the money to his foster mother and tell her he found it. But knowing Willie, Blue figured moms probably never saw a dime of the loot.
The only aspect of his life that he wasn’t able to put back together was his relationship with Shirley. She had completely squared up and seemed totally serious about her new life with the truck driver. She even refused the expensive gifts Blue had tested her with.
And although he enjoyed the company of countless females, he couldn’t quite get over the fact that he and Shirley would probably never be together again.
It was starting to register with Blue that there were some things his money couldn’t buy.
After nearly a year of the “good life” Blue started to get bored. And because of the larger volume of his business since he and Billy had started buying Persian dope from an Iranian connection, he found it increasingly more difficult to distinguish between his real friends and the people who were interested only in a free ride.
Another downer was the recurring nightmares that featured him being hunted down, arrested and sent back to prison.
To combat his episodes of depression, especially when he thought about his mom, Blue started trying to fill the empty spaces in his life with alcohol and larger doses of his own merchandise. He also became a regular at many of the favorite bars, strip joints, and hang-outs of the night life crowd.
And after one of his associates was robbed and murdered, Blue refused to go anywhere without his Colt .44 pistol. He knew it was an automatic trip back to jail if he ever got caught with it, but he figured he’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.
Shortly after he started carrying the gun, while he and Billy waited in a Hollywood bar for Billy’s girls to bring in their nightly quota of cash, Blue got involved in a heated argument with another pimp over a game of pool. As the crowd of hustlers and their ladies closed in on the action, Blue seemed determined to start a fight.
Few people paid much attention to the square looking black dude and his girl-watching white companion sitting at the bar. Those that noticed them figured they were tricks or tourists, looking for a good time.
Blue and the other guy, Eddie from Detroit, faced each other from opposite sides of the brightly lit bar sized pool table.
“You gotta be crazy, sucka, if you think I’m payin’ you for that shot!” Eddie was a good three inches taller than Blue’s even six feet, and out-weighed him by at least thirty pounds.
“Look, man,” Blue shouted back. “Since you don’t seem to remember, we’re playin’ for fifty dollars a game and you just lost! So why don’t you give me my money before this bullshit gets out of hand!”
“You must think I’m some kinda chump or somethin’,” Eddie yelled. “I saw you touch the cue ball before you made the eight and, as far as I’m concerned, you owe me!
Sensing the explosiveness of the situation, Billy tried to pull Blue away from the table. “Come on, cuz. This ain’t about nothin’. Forget it… I’ll pay for the game.”
“Get out of the way, Billy!” Blue yelled, wrenching himself free from his cousin’s grasp. “This lyin’ bastard is gonna pay me what he owes me!”
In a burst of motion, Eddie flipped his pool cue and with both hands took a wild, overhand swing at Blue!
“Look out, Blue!” a woman screamed.
Blue jerked his head out of the way, but the weighted end of the stick landed solidly on his shoulder, knocking him to the floor.
Blocked by the crowds at both ends of the pool table, Eddie scrambled over the top to finish Blue off, realizing too late that this was a fight he would not win.
From the floor, Blue whipped out his revolver and fired, hitting the surprised Eddie three times before he fell on top of him.
Pandemonium broke out as screaming patrons bolted for the exits, turning over tables and chairs!
Billy rushed to his cousin’s side to help him get out from under the dead weight of the bleeding, twitching Eddie. “Come on, Blue!” he yelled. We gotta get out of here!”
Blue seemed to be in a daze as he stumbled to his feet.
“Let’s go!” Billy screamed. He thought Blue was behind him when he broke for the door.
But Blue didn’t follow him. “Where’s my hat?” he mumbled, searching frantically for his prized fedora.
“Blue, let’s go, man!” Billy shouted from the front door.
Blue seemed to snap out of his fog and started toward his cousin, without his hat.
Billy turned and ran for the car, determined to have it started and ready to roll when Blue got there.
But Blue never made it. Just before he reached the door, the casually dressed black man and his white partner jumped up from behind an overturned table.
“Freeze! Police!” they shouted, leveling their handguns at Blue’s back from across the floor.
Forgetting the gun in his hand, Blue turned abruptly, igniting a thunderous barrage from the cops’ guns that slammed him backwards through the open door.
Jimmy “Blue” Waters died on the sidewalk in front of the bar before the ambulance ever received the call.
Dedicated to my Texas homeboy, the late James "Slim" Lilly.
With a few minutes to kill before my next appointment, I pulled off Crenshaw into a familiar parking lot, expecting to grab a quick sliced beef sandwich.
But a lot had changed since my last visit to this part of town. Like a growing number of small businesses in South Central Los Angeles, “Mr. B’s Best Bar-B-Que,” a fixture in the community for decades, had disappeared.
Mr. B’s hand painted sign over the door of the small stucco building had been covered by a red and yellow plastic banner flapping in the wind that said: “Julio’s Flame Grilled Chicken.”
I started to leave but the spicy aroma of freshly grilled chicken and my growling stomach provided me with a powerful incentive to give Julio's a try. They didn’t seem too busy, so I parked and went inside.
My timing was perfect. The place was empty except for two people waiting to place orders.
“May I help you?” The young Hispanic girl behind the counter eyed her next customer warily.
The huge black man in tattered clothes, scratching his scraggly beard, looked at the change in his hand and then at the menu board. “Uh… yeah,” he said. “Let me have a two piece and a biscuit.”
“What did you say?” the girl asked, clearly suspicious of the stranger.
“Two pieces of chicken and a hot biscuit,” the man replied.
The girl surveyed the man from top to bottom. “We don’t have biscuits,” she said.
The big man placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “So you sayin’ a brother cain’t git a biscuit up in here?”
The girl instinctively stepped back. “Julio!” she yelled.
A jovial, middle aged man, wearing an apron and wiping his hands on a kitchen towel emerged from the back.
The girl nodded in the direction of the big, intimidating man, now standing up to his full height with his arms folded across his chest.
Julio draped the towel over his shoulder and took the girl’s place at the cash register. “How can we help you, my friend?”
“Like I said to her, I want two pieces of chicken and a nice, hot, fluffy biscuit. Cain’t y’all understand English?”
“This is a Mexican restaurant,” Julio replied. “We don’t serve biscuits. But I tell you what. How about I give you extra tortillas and salsa to go with your chicken?”
Big Man fingered the change in his palm. “Well… okay,” he said. “That sounds pretty good.”
Julio muttered something to the girl in Spanish and returned to the kitchen area.
The girl stepped back up to the register. “What pieces would you like?”
“A back and a neck,” said the man.
The girl stared at him. “A what?” Her fear of the hulking figure was starting to dissolved into frustration.
Big Man turned around, put one arm behind him and patted the middle of his raggity green hoodie. “A back,” he said. He faced the girl again and pointed to his throat. “And a neck.”
The girl closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “We don’t have that,” she said.
“You don’t have that? How come? What kind of chickens are y’all cookin’ around here? Are they deformed or somethin’? I ain’t never heard of no chickens that don’t have backs and necks.”
Big man glanced over his shoulder like he was checking to see if he could get any support.
The frail black woman in front of me, wearing a greasy trench coat and a brown wig held in place by a bright orange headband, nodded. “I heard that,” she said.
I looked at my watch.
Big Man leaned toward the girl again. “Did you hear what I said?”
This time she didn’t budge. “Julio,” she sang out.
Julio bounded back into the front. “What’s the matter now?”
Big Man was on a roll. “She asked me what pieces of chicken I want, and I told her I want a back and a neck. What’s so hard about that?”
“Okay, look, we don’t want no trouble.” Julio’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. “Here’s what I’m gonna do. Instead of a leg and a thigh, I’m gonna give you a breast and a thigh for the same price. But that’s it, okay? We’ve got to move the line.”
Big Man stood straight up again, scratching his frazzled ‘fro. “Do I still get my extra tortillas?”
“Yes… yes, you get the tortillas.”
“And the salsa, with maybe a few chips?”
“Yes, extra salsa with some chips.”
“Alright, you got a deal.” Big Man fished a few crumpled bills from his pocket to go with his coins, paid the girl for his order, and took a number.
Julio waited until the transaction was completed, then disappeared again into the kitchen area.
“Next in line.” The girl forced a smile as the lady in front of me stepped up to the counter.
Miss Trench Coat braced herself against the counter with one hand and placed the other hand on her hip. “I want a bucket of chicken knees, crispy, a large side of collard greens and some yams.”
The girl stared at the woman. “You want what?”
The woman stepped back from the counter and pointed to her knees. “Knees,” she said. "A bucket of ‘em with some yams and greens.”
“We don’t have that!” sighed the girl. “Chickens don’t even have knees!”
“How come they don’t?” The woman leaned toward the girl. “They got legs, don’t they? And if they got legs, they gotta have knees."
“I know that’s right,” said Big Man, waiting for his order in one of the booths.
“What kind of chickens are y’all serving here anyway?” continued the woman. “Chickens that ain’t got no knees?”
“Julio!” the girl screamed.
Miss Trench Coat glanced back at me and winked.
I checked my watch again and headed out the door. It was time to get back on the road.
I sure do miss Mr. B. He would have handled Big Man and Miss Trench Coat in an entirely different manner. And I would have had myself a great big, deliciously tender, sliced beef sandwich.
© 2016 Paul Howard Nicholas
Austin H. "Jack" and Rosie Marcella Nicholas, Silver Wedding Anniversary, 1955
In 1953 my father was the personal barber for a prominent family that wanted to expand their real estate holdings in Los Angeles.
With their assistance, my Creole mother, assumed to be white, purchased a beautiful, three bedroom home on a pleasant, tree lined street near the intersection of La Cienega Boulevard and Jefferson Boulevard in way-way West L.A.
At the time, due to racial covenants in California property deeds, this lily white conclave was worlds beyond the boundaries that constrained Black home buyers in inner city L.A..
As soon as the deal was signed, real estate agents canvassed the whole neighborhood, warning home owners that "coloreds will be moving in soon."
When the rest of our very clearly Black family, my father, my two sisters, two brothers, my niece, and I showed up to move in with mom, panic stricken white folks staked "For Sale" signs in their front yards overnight and vanished in droves.
The real estate family, as planned, made a killing, snapping up premium properties at fire sale prices from desperate "evacuees."
My parents did okay too.
© 2017 Paul Howard Nicholas
We often hear people say they didn’t realize they were poor growing up because everybody they knew was in the same situation.
To assist our readers in determining the current economic status of their respective zip
codes, Natural Light Network presents the following top ten indicators of a poor neighborhood:
#10: You leave your barbeque grill unattended for a few minutes and somebody swipes a handful of chicken wings.
#9: A lot of the mothers pushing strollers aren’t old enough to drive cars.
#8: The ice cream trucks all carry condoms, BC Headache Powders, fruit-flavored cigars, triple-X rated DVDs, and Zig-Zag cigarette papers.
#7: Pizza shops cancel your order when you tell them where you want the food delivered.
#6: The custom wheels on your neighbor’s car cost more than the car.
#5: A fellow shopper at the local market offers to sell you a hundred dollars worth of food stamps for $45.00 and a ride to the dope house.
#4: Everybody knows where the dope house is, except the police.
#3: People throw all night parties when loved ones get out of prison.
#2: You try to stop a guy from choking his girlfriend and they both attack you for getting in
their business.
And the #1 indicator of whether you live in a poor neighborhood is:
The guy on the bullhorn in the police helicopter knows your neighbor's son's name, as in “Yo, Ray-Ray, put those chicken wings back, dude! We got you on tape!"
© 2016 Paul Howard Nicholas
(This is an excerpt from "Extinguishing the Flames of Hell")
In accordance with His love and concern for mankind, God continued to send volunteers from Heaven to minister to receptive individuals and groups during the period between the fall of Adam and Eve, and the arrival of Jesus Christ.
These brave Messengers struggled diligently against overwhelming spiritual ignorance to introduce God to pagans, and to keep His presence alive among those who knew of His existence.
Due to the dangers inherent in a mission to Earth, however, volunteers for extended assignments were not plentiful. Those that did commit to making our world a better place came as either materialized Angels, or infants born of human parents.
To protect themselves against evil spirits still roaming the Earth, and murderous human beings, the vast majority arrived as incarnated Angels. The courageous few that chose to experience life as mortals among men understood that they would become much more vulnerable to evil and pain and suffering than materialized Angels, but the promise of greater rewards for these prophets and teachers upon their return to Heaven proved to be a huge incentive.
Many of these humanized Angels, however, suffered untimely termination of their Earthly careers when their teachings threatened to upset the status quo.
And so it should come as no surprise that when Jesus volunteered to enter our strife-torn world as a helpless infant for the purpose of uplifting mankind, Heaven stood still. As one of the highest-ranking Sons of God in the entire Universe, he could have sent a personal representative, or he could have chosen to arrive as an awe-inspiring Angel of Light.
But, in light of the slow progress being made on Earth, and because of his compassionate concern for all human beings, he decided to make the journey himself under the most challenging circumstances.
Historical evidence suggests that Jesus was born in the fall season in the town of Bethlehem. His Earth parents, Joseph and Mary, had journeyed from their Nazareth home to register for the regional census and to pay their annual taxes to Caesar and King Herod when Mary, shortly after their arrival, went into labor. The only available shelter, due to the large number of people in Bethlehem to pay taxes, was an innkeeper’s barn.
Fall would be the logical time of Jesus’ birth simply because taxes in ancient times were collected after the annual harvesting of crops when people were more likely to have money. It is, therefore, inconceivable that Jesus could have been born in the dead of winter at a time when people would have been less inclined to part with their funds, and when inclement weather would have made travel more difficult.
In spite of these facts, church leaders in the third century after the death of Jesus, proclaimed that he was born on December 25th, a day that coincides with the birthday of the Roman sun “god” sol invictus and the observance of yule, the celebration of the winter solstice, one of the oldest pagan holidays in history.
Except for his insightful intelligence, Jesus grew up in Nazareth as an ordinary child. He worked as an apprentice to his father, Joseph, a respected carpenter and building contractor, until he became a master craftsman in his own right. And, just like every other Jewish boy, he received religious instruction in the Jewish tradition at the local temple.
Because Jesus volunteered to experience life as an average human being, he did not become fully aware of his status in the Universe until he matured into manhood. At the appropriate time, God revealed to him his true identity, and the purpose of his mission. His cousin, John the Baptist, another highly respected Heavenly Messenger, marked the occasion with the ceremonial baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River.
From that day forward, Jesus set about his Heavenly Father’s business, confronting evil and erroneous religious teachings wherever and whenever he encountered them. He healed and comforted the mentally and physically afflicted. He fed the hungry with Earthly foods, and strengthened the downtrodden with spiritual nutrition.
As mentioned earlier, Jesus also introduced the concept of loving God rather than fearing Him, and he erected an effective prayer barrier to protect the innocent from supernatural assault.
Like most revolutionaries, however, Jesus incurred the wrath of the power elite. The rising popularity of his radical teachings about a loving, compassionate God, as opposed to a jealous, vengeful God; his willingness, as a spiritual teacher, to work for a living rather than obligate his followers to support him; and his disapproval of blood sacrifices and other pagan rituals were viewed by political and religious leaders of the day as a direct threat to their wealth and authority.
To understand the vehement opposition to the growing influence of Jesus during his ministry on Earth, one need look no further than the economic implications of his teachings.
By the time Jesus stormed the Temple in Jerusalem and disrupted the operations of the money changers and animal vendors, the sacrificial slaughtering of animals had become a thriving business. The doves, lambs, goats, and cattle offered to God had to be without blemish according to law. So most worshipers, rather than risk the humiliation of having their sacrificial offerings rejected by the temple priests, simply purchased their animals from authorized Temple dealers.
The priests also feared that if people accepted the notion that it is possible to worship God at any time and any place, such as the outdoor settings Jesus used, financial support for the Temple and its ruling members would be substantially diminished.
Political leaders, equally obsessed with maintaining the status quo, worried over the possibility of Jesus recruiting a large enough following to remove them from power.
Jesus fully understood the motives of those who worked to undermine his ministry. And he accepted the probability that his enemies would resort to violence to try to silence him. But he continued his courageous mission, undeterred, secure in the knowledge that his soul, the part of him that would return to God, would remain immune to the weapons of man.
This is an important message for all human beings: nothing built by man can destroy that which is created by God. The soul is bulletproof, bombproof, poison-proof, etc. As a matter of fact, it comes with an eternal warranty against any and every man-made weapon. The only being with the power to destroy the soul is the soul itself.
Since his death, mankind has failed to fully understand the messages Jesus brought from Heaven. After more than two thousand years since his untimely departure, the human race remains mired in spiritual stagnation. Empires have appeared and disappeared, crushed by rivals that value competition over cooperation. The only things that seem to change are the weapons humans use to destroy each other. They become more lethal with every passing generation.
Instead of helping man to rise above the primitive mindset of ever escalating violence, the most advanced religions on Earth still teach that God Himself is more like a warrior than a compassionate father, and that fear is the most important element of man’s relationship with God.
Without question, mankind has reached a point where nothing short of Divine Intervention will save us from extinction. Left to our own devices, the human race would surely self-destruct.
Until Jesus puts God’s plans for the rescue of mankind into action, however, we must re-evaluate his teachings in order to become more receptive to his instructions when he returns.
The next chapter contains messages that assess the current status of various human groups and suggestions for those who seek to qualify for spiritual enhancement.
Wishing you all Peace, Love, Health, Prosperity, and an Abundance of Blessings!
-Natural Light Network
(This account of the failed mission of Adam and Eve is an excerpt from "Extinguishing the Flames of Hell.")
The assignment of these two highly respected Missionary Angels to the difficult task of getting Project Earth back on track resulted from an urgent call from the highest levels of Heaven for volunteers. The request made it clear that the mission to the disconnected planet, plunged into spiritual isolation at the start of Lucifer’s insurgency, would be challenging and dangerous. Bands of angry, fallen angels still roamed the Earth, tormenting the savage inhabitants and sabotaging the work of Angels loyal to God at every opportunity.
After studying the ill-fated planet’s history, and assessing the pros and cons of such an assignment, Adam and Eve decided to commit their energy and talents to the betterment of mankind. As members of an elite order of Angels that only work in pairs to enhance the living standards of ascending mortals, they had successfully completed missions on many distant normally evolving worlds.
The courageous couple was not deterred by the infamous history of the beautiful blue jewel of a planet. Despite the long list of angels that had been overpowered by evil while working on Project Earth, Adam and Eve, in accepting their new assignment, vowed unshakable allegiance to the furtherance of God’s will. And they expressed their profound faith in the ultimate power of light over darkness.
Thus did another negative chapter in the story of man begin. Following several thorough briefings by superiors, as well as Angels with on-the-ground experience on the rebellion-torn sphere, the well intentioned couple was transported to a beautiful garden residence constructed by Builder Angels and their advanced human students in what is now North Africa.
A temporary commission of materialized Administrative Angels and human representatives from tribes living in close proximity to the garden welcomed them to their new home.
The Garden of Eden was an impressive estate. Nestled among the lush vegetation and flowing streams were the official residence, a temple, classrooms, and guest quarters for live-in staff and students. A high, sturdy wall encircled the whole compound.
Surveying the grounds and structures, Adam and Eve declared their Earthly home perfect. They praised the administrators, the builders, and their human assistants for a job well done.
The next phase of the tour, however, was not quite so pleasant.
Nothing could have prepared Adam and Eve for their first encounter with the world beyond the garden wall. Wild beasts and savage humans roamed the countryside, fiercely competing for food and territory. Superior wit and strength separated the winners from losers in an environment that devoured the slow, the weak, and the passive.
Led by human guides, and accompanied by several Administrative Angels, Adam and Eve explored the forest surrounding Eden en route to a nearby primitive settlement.
Nearly two feet taller than the average human being of that era, and attired in flowing, glowing raiment, the party of materialized Angels inspired fear and awe in their savage brethren.
As they entered the first settlement, panic erupted. A cacophony of screams and wails announced the arrival of the “gods.” Terrified men and women clutching children fell to their knees, begging for mercy.
Because most of their contacts with the supernatural had resulted in injury and death at the hands of fallen angels, these unfortunate savages had every reason to be terrified of the strange visitors.
Adam and Eve walked among them, offering these wretched souls, in their own primitive language, assurances of their beneficial intentions. Their guides, advanced students of the Builder and Teacher Angels, assisted in comforting the fearful savages, introducing the Angels as friends.
Living conditions in the squalid communal dwelling sites were discouraging, far worse than Adam and Eve had imagined. Whether composed of mud huts, lean-tos, or animal hide tents, every one of the villages they visited reeked with disease, desperation, and death. A malodorous mixture of smoke from primitive cooking fires and fumes from open sewer trenches hung in the air like fog. And the filthy, frightened inhabitants were only slightly more advanced than animals.
By the end of their first venture outside Eden, Adam and Eve accurately concluded that their mission would be much more difficult than they had envisioned.
In fact, the job of attempting to improve mankind physically, mentally, and spiritually soon proved to be the biggest challenge of their careers.
It should be noted here that, while the dominant religions on Earth teach that Adam and Eve were the original parents of all peoples, the Book of Genesis clearly indicates the existence of human cultures outside Eden. In chapter four, we learn the fate of Cain, the elder son of Adam and Eve, after he murdered his brother, Abel:
“And Cain went out from the presence of the LORD, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden. And Cain knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare Enoch: and he builded a city, and called the name of the city, after the name of his son, Enoch.”
Based on this biblical narration, one would have to conclude that Cain left the Garden of Eden, relocated to an established human settlement, found a mate, and moved on with his life.
And there is overwhelming scientific evidence, chronicling the gradual evolution of mankind, to dispel the notion that our original human parents were created in the image of modern man. The people Adam and Eve discovered upon arriving to assume their missionary duties on Earth were closer in intellect and mannerisms to animals than spiritual beings. Repercussions from the mass desertion by Lucifer and his followers had left the majority of mankind isolated, tormented by evil spirits, hunted by wild beasts, susceptible to famine and disease, and dominated by their more ferocious and cunning brethren.
While the magnitude and complexity of the challenges they faced in seeking to improve the human condition may have contributed to their eventual downfall, the reason their mission was declared a failure is not clear at this time. Except that they disobeyed direct orders from Heaven, I am not prepared to offer an explanation of the exact nature of their offenses.
As veterans of many successful assignments on normal planets, Adam and Eve had volunteered to teach human beings better methods of hygiene, sanitation, medical procedures, animal husbandry, agriculture, and light industry, as well as other important survival skills. Improvements in these areas would lead to higher living standards and the opportunity to introduce primitive people to the goodness of God.
Another important aspect of their mission was to act as role models, representing the many benefits of an ideal partnership between a male and female working side by side, as opposed to the brutish domination of men over women.
Adam and Eve fully understood that volunteering to assist in the transformation of animal man to spiritual man was a serious commitment. And they agreed to abide by the rules and guidelines established by their superiors and approved by God.
The biblical version of Adam and Eve’s transgression is explained in the well-known account of their deliberate consumption of forbidden fruit. A serpent, perhaps possessed by a fallen angel, is said to have convinced Eve that breaking this rule would not result in her death or the death of her husband, as they had been led to believe.
In fact, according to the serpent, eating the fruit from this particular tree would elevate them to the status of gods. (SEE Genesis, chapter 3, verses 4-5.) Eve then supposedly persuaded Adam to join her in partaking of the illicit produce.
This account is most certainly a parable that disguises an actual account of this pivotal event in the history of our planet. The writer makes it clear, however, that Adam and Eve committed an unacceptable breach of trust.
Regardless of what the real story may be, Adam and Eve suffered a severe penalty as a result of their disobedience. In addition to losing their beautiful home in the Garden of Eden and access to the “tree of life,” they were condemned to a life of hardship on Earth. Once immortal emissaries from Heaven, they were instantly reduced to the status of mortal humans, susceptible to pain, disease, injury, and death. People and animals no longer feared them. And, abandoned by the Angels that had welcomed their arrival, they became dependent on their own physical labor to acquire food and to erect protective shelters.
With a large following of loyal human staff workers and students, Adam and Eve did eventually build their own new dwelling site in an area with natural protective boundaries. While vastly superior to other contemporary encampments, their new home was a far cry from the luxurious trappings in the Garden of Eden.
And because they now feared neighboring savages, the peace loving pair was compelled to improvise an effective system of defensive warfare to ensure the security of their village and food supplies.
Sadly, in contrast to the enthusiasm with which they arrived on Earth, Adam and Eve lived out the remainder of their days on Earth in virtual isolation with their offspring and subordinates.
As for their fate, it is difficult to determine at this time what became of them when they experienced mortal death. Without knowing if their rebellious actions were motivated by ignorance, weakness, or defiance, one cannot even begin to guess how they were judged when their time on Earth ended.
Hopefully, in light of their well intentioned desire to assist in the salvation of mankind, they have received forgiveness for their errors, and achieved re-admittance to God’s Heavenly Kingdom.
The failed mission of Adam and Eve signaled another lost opportunity for the advancement of mankind, and may have discouraged other potential volunteers. Instead of benefiting from the instructions of a well-respected Angelic couple, primitive man would remain mired in spiritual darkness and savagery for many more thousands of years.
In all fairness, however, it should be noted that, while Adam and Eve did fail to execute their duties responsibly, their mission was not a complete failure. Their superbly educated descendants and students gradually established a number of missionary compounds in areas where people were receptive to advanced teachings.
And these self-sustaining outposts, created by people empowered with knowledge of their relationship to God, and endowed with superior skills in government, warfare, building technology, agriculture, and animal domestication, would become important seeds of civilization from which advanced societies would eventually develop.
“Adam and Eve” is an excerpt from “Extinguishing the Flames of Hell.”
© 2006 Paul Howard Nicholas
Photo by Paul Howard Nicholas
Of the many things on Earth that human beings will lay their lives on the line for, love, money, and vengeance, though not necessarily in that order, are generally found near the top of the list.
People of every creed and color constantly demonstrate that they are willing, if necessary, to make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of love, the love of money, or the satisfaction of vengeance:
A man risks his life to save loved ones from a burning building; thieves risk their lives in daring robberies; a gangbanger, seeking to avenge a homeboy’s death, is gunned down on enemy turf.
Without question, love, money, and vengeance are powerful motivators. Money, however, is in a category all its own. Of the three, it is the only tangible. It can be piled up, counted, and stored in banks or blown on a spree. Money is also unique in that it can be helpful or hurtful, depending on who employs it.
True love is always positive. Vengeance is always negative. But money can be either. Used to open a much needed hospital or school, money becomes a blessing for the community these institutions will serve.
Money used to promote misleading messages, however, or to suppress human rights, is a curse to those who seek truth and freedom.
The bible offers various statements about money and material wealth.
King Solomon, in the 10th chapter of Ecclesiastes, verse 19, says, “A feast is made for laughter. And wine maketh merry; But money answereth all things.” (KJV)
While it may seem ironic that Solomon, considered one of the wisest men of his time, could have arrived at such an indefensible conclusion about the virtues of money, his words, from a king’s perspective, make sense.
If enemies threatened to unseat him, money would buy the spies, the armies, and the weapons he needed to defeat them.
When key allies showed signs of wavering in support for his causes, monetary gifts usually brought them back into the fold.
And when it came to maintaining harmony among the members of his harem of two thousand wives and concubines, money made it possible for Solomon to provide them with a lavish lifestyle.
The problem with King Solomon’s statement about money being the answer to everything is that it is patently false. It won’t open the gates of Heaven and it can’t buy love. And If happiness could be purchased with money, rich people would never commit suicide.
The only instructional value of such a misleading message is that it serves as a reminder that the holy scriptures were written by, and subsequently translated by, imperfect human beings.
And while much of the information found in the bible provides sound advice for spiritual enhancement, it is important to pray for God’s guidance whenever it becomes necessary to sift jewels of truths from the shifting sands of an author’s personal agenda.
The new testament of the bible offers more fact-based counseling about the accumulation of wealth. First Timothy, chapter 6, verse 10 says, “For the love of money is the root of all evil…”
This statement is as accurate today as it was when it was written thousands of years ago. History is littered with the mental, physical, and spiritual wreckage of perpetrators and victims who got caught up in obsessive quests for material gain.
In Luke 12:48, Jesus is quoted as saying, “…For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required…” The message here is clear: The bigger the material blessings, the more God expects the blessed to share in making the world a better place.
The most troubling statement in the Bible regarding the accumulation of wealth, however, is found in the 19th chapter of Matthew, verse 24, where Jesus says that “…It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
Jesus made this statement to his disciples after counseling a wealthy young man who claimed to be living in harmony with the commandments, but wanted to know what more he could do to
achieve eternal life.
Jesus tells the young man in Matthew 19: 21 that he would have “treasure in Heaven” if he would sell all of his possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow him. Matthew 19: 22 says that the young man, upon hearing this, “…went away sorrowful: for he had great
possessions.”
Jesus makes it clear in this passage that material wealth on Earth, if valued more than Heavenly treasure, can become a stumbling block in the middle of the path to spiritual enlightenment and weaken a rich person’s desire to stay connected to God.
A lot of wealthy people don't pray for God’s will to be done on Earth because they are all the way okay with the way things are There’s no need to ask God for help in securing their daily bread because they're already eating the finest food available. They hire security professionals to take care of trespassers, and if they happen to trespasse against someone, their top-notch legal firms will minimize the consequences.
But Jesus leaves no doubt that, while it may be difficult for a rich person to earn salvation, it can be done. In clarifying his statement about the camel and the eye of a needle, Jesus says in Matthew 19:26: “With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.”
And so the message for rich people who want to establish a better relationship with God is clear. As stewards of one of the most formidable powers on Earth, it would be wise for them to determine whether the current status of their money is positive or negative and make the necessary corrections.
Are their investments being used to lift people up, or push them down? To enlighten the less fortunate, or keep them in darkness? To line the pockets of the oppressor, or to feed the oppressed?
And most importantly, the rich should always keep the true value of their material wealth in its proper perspective. For as much as money is cherished on Earth, it will never be allowed in Heaven.
West 6th Street, Port Arthur, Texas, Summer 1960. (Nicholas Family Archives)
Yesterday is gone forever,
into the realms of what could have,
should have, or might have been.
Tomorrow is our faithful expectation
of God's continued grace.
But if we are to truly appreciate Today,
then we must accept it as a precious gift
called the Present.
And, whether this day brings sunshine
or rain, pleasure or pain,
we are blessed to share our
trials and triumphs, our mountains,
and our molehills
with family.
Wishing everybody Love, Peace, Health, and Prosperity!
Photo by Paul Howard Nicholas
As we celebrate this grand breakfast
in our new garden temple
let every window be opened,
every curtain drawn aside.
May the morning find us fresh, alive!
Embracing the crisp air to quicken our senses,
absorbing sunshine to warm our hearts.
May our souls become infused with
the enlightening nourishment of Love and Faith
and a deep appreciation for each new blade of grass.
And as we enjoy this cherished reunion
of Earth and Sun and Life,
let us also remember the prayers
that have sustained us in darkness
for they are powerful wings to lift us up
and into tomorrow.
© 2016 Paul Howard Nicholas
