Saturday, February 28, 2015

2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours (Part 5, The Conclusion)

Posted on 02/28/2015


Yokosuka, Japan, Naval Base, Day of Release, 1994
Four Marines rush into the room and I was sure I was about to go back to jail. The Commander waved them off and told them everything was okay.  What a sigh of relief. "Lance Corporal Redditt, I can't begin to imagine what you went through and I know this is a lot being thrown at you right now, but this is the decision that was made."  "Sir, I..."  "Marine!  Don't interrupt me.  I'm not finished.  I know you are upset now, but trust me, you will thank me later.  If we discharge you now it would be a bad conduct discharge.  And we don't have grounds for discharging you in that manner because you weren't convicted of a crime in America and the crimes in Japan were misdemeanors.  So we have no grounds to discharge you, period."  After about a hour I calmed down and I asked the Commander if I could at least go home on leave to see my son.  "Lance Corporal Redditt, you and I both know if I allow you to go home on leave you won't come back. You would be AWOL and then you would get a dishonorable discharge.  Lance Corporal, you have been through so much.  And yes, this was a terrible experience, but why mess up the rest of your life by going AWOL?  You may hate me now, but trust me, years down the line you will thank me."  I didn't know it then, but those were some of the truest words ever spoken.  

Palm Beach Gardens, FL, February 28, 2015
24 years later and some of the mental scars still remain.  I still can't stand to hear people whistle.  It actually drives me insane.  It takes me back to every time Hitler, Stalin or Punk ass whistled.  I heard a whistle and I knew an ass whooping was coming.  Today, I have a lot of family members and friends that whistle.  That leaves me with one mission, stop the whistling!  I came up with a good method a few years ago on how to deal with it.  Every time a person whistles, I engage them in conversation so that they would talk instead of whistle. It works 95 percent of the time.  The other 5 percent?  I find an excuse to leave!  It's amazing that after so many years that still affects me.  I still can't sleep in a room if the door isn't locked.  I never sleep in a bedroom with the door being open.  I still feel the need to be able to prepare myself if someone were to come in while I am sleeping.  This used to drive my wife crazy.  I have gotten better about letting people touch me.  I am still an extreme germaphobe, but I am better about shaking hands and letting people touch me.  My wife can even wake me up now by touching me, instead of calling my name repeatedly because I would freak out if she touched me to wake me.  It is and has definitely been a process but the scars are healing.

Iwakuni & Yokosuka, Japan, 1994 & early 1995
I went back into the Marine Corps and I served my time in Iwakuni, Japan, doing the job that I was assigned to do.  And I must say this, I did my job phenomenally well, perhaps better than anyone that had ever held that position before or after me.  But I'll tell you what, it is unreal how God works.  Three months after I was released from Prison, I stepped back inside the walls of the Yokosuka Prison to come face to face with Punk ass, Stalin and Hitler again.  There is no other explanation other than, it had to be God....  

To be continued in my book.  Release date will be announced here first!

Copyright February 2015 by Sheldon Redditt

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours (Part 4)

Posted on 02/17/2015

I dedicate this blog to Gunnery Sergeant Richard Mennifield. 



Gunnery Sergeant Richard Mennifield is the single most important person I have met on this level of existence.  I would not be the Sheldon Redditt, that I am today,  had it not been for this man.  I have been looking for this man since September of 2007.  I searched and searched and searched and I never could find him.  Part 4 was halfway written when I received word that Staff Sergeant Mennifield had passed in February of 2007.  He made Gunnery Sergeant before he retired from the Marine Corps.  The news of his passing hit me like a ton of bricks. I NEVER cry when people pass because I fully understand that is part of Life.  We all will pass on to the next level of existence, but I believe that on the next level, we continue to exist.  That being said, I took his passing really hard.  This was the man who saved my life. This man totally changed my way of thinking.  He ignited the spark in me.  He helped me to begin to see and judge people for who they are and not for the color of their skin.  You see, without Gunnery Sergeant Mennifield, there would be no Amy or Hayden because I hated white people at the time.  My life would be totally different if I hadn't met this man.  I know I am rambling but when I got the news of his passing, I had to rewrite Part 4.  Truly one of my biggest regrets in life is that I never got a chance to see you again, to thank you for all that you did for me and let you know all that you meant to me.  There is not enough time or paper to fully explain how much you meant to me, but I will try my best to honor you in my book.

Yokosuka, Japan 1994 
Today is the big day!  I am finally being released from this Japanese Prison.  I made it.  I am looking in the mirror shaving.  Wow I really made it.  I hardly recognize the man in the mirror.  I think this is the first time I have really looked at myself.  I am a fraction of the man I used to be, both physically and mentally.  I have lost 120 pounds, aged about 15 years physically, as well as mentally.  The tears come uncontrollably.  All the beatings, all the days of being so hungry that I thought I would die, the mental abuse was about to be over.  I get to go home today.  I get to see my son Ryan soon.  He is the only person that I care about anymore. Everyone else is dead to me.  I am still filled with a lot of anger.  I will be back on American soil real soon.  I will kiss the ground when I get back.  People can say what they want about America but I tell you what.  People have no idea how fucked up it is in other countries.  You have zero rights and you are guilty until proven innocent, not the other way around.  These are my thoughts as I am waiting for The Marine Corps to pick me up.  The Marine Corps arrived around 10:00 am to pick me up.  I was never so happy to see another human being or two human beings in this case.  I needed a moment to take it all in.  This was my first time outside of this walls in over 2 years.  The Marines had a ton of questions but I couldn't even talk.  I think at that moment it really hit me what all I had gone through and that I had survived it.  The mental scars would last for another 24 years but physically, I am FINALLY safe. 

Palm Beach Gardens, FL, February 17th 2015
I'm sitting in my office as I'm writing and I am thanking God for not only keeping me throughout that experience but also that I am not in a mental institution.  I now know that God was preparing me for that experience in advance.  I became a vegetarian about 2 months before I went to prison and still am to this day.  Becoming a vegetarian prior to my imprisonment, allowed me to have discipline when it came to food.  But what if God had not prepared me for that?  I would have surely starved to death. There were plenty of nights that I went to bed hungry because I knew that something was put in my food.  I would have rather starved than to drink piss or even worse.  I began to learn a lot about Religion and History prior to going in and that truly helped me.  The one positive thing about being in there was that they would let you read.  That was a LIFE SAVER.

Yokosuka, Japan, Day of Release, 1994
I am riding in the car with the two Marines that picked me up, just taking it all in.  One Marine asked me, "Lance Corporal Redditt,"  I haven't heard that title in awhile.  "Can I ask you just one question? Is it really as bad in there as they say it is?"  "It is much much worse.", I tell him.  "Imagine the worst thing you can imagine and multiply that by ten.  That's how horrible it was in there."  We arrive at base and I am immediately taken to the Commanding Officers' Office.  "Lance Corporal Redditt", he began to say, "I understand that you have been through a terrible experience."  "Sir, that is a understatement, but I just want to put this behind me and get back home.  So what time is my flight leaving today to get me back to the United States?"  His answer floored me.  "Lance Corporal Redditt, you still owe The Marine Corps time.  You see, you were only charged with misdemeanor charges, so you have to go back into the Marine Corps and not only serve the rest of your time, but you have to make up the time that you missed while you were locked up in the Japanese Prison."  My heart dropped.  I can't believe what I am hearing I know this mother..... didn't say what I think he just said.  "EXCUSE ME, SIR!  I know you are FUCKING kidding me right?  I know damn well you are not telling me that after 2 years, 3 months, 26 days and 11 hours in a fucking hell hole, that you are telling me I can't go home."  "Calm down Lance Corporal? Fuck calming down!  You need to get me a fucking flight back to America right the fuck now!  I can't believe that you would say some bullshit like that to me!  After I have....." Four Marines rush into the room.  In that moment, I knew I had really Fucked up. 

To be Continued.....

Copyright February 2015 by Sheldon Redditt


Monday, February 9, 2015

2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours (Part 3)

Posted on 02/09/2015



"Man!  This Jodeci CD is nice!  "Forever My Lady" and "Stay" are my favorite cuts."  I am talking to my boys; Parker, Heard and Yates.  We are sitting in Heards' and I room, talking about our girlfriends.  "I'm about to go call my girl right now", I remember Heard saying.  Minutes later, I hear a knock on the door.  Parker turned the music down so that I can answer the door.  It was Staff Sergeant Minnifield.  "What's going on Staff Sergeant?  What did we do now?"  The look on his face told me that something was seriously wrong.  "Redditt, the Japanese have decided to charge you."  WAIT WHAT?  "Charge me for what?  I didn't do shit!"  "Redditt, they are charging you with leaving the scene of a crime, resisting arrest, attempted assault on a police officer and disorderly conduct."  "You can't be serious Staff Sergeant."  But the look on his face told it all.  "Redditt, the Japanese also believe that you guys are a flight risk, so they want to take you guys into custody immediately."  "How in the hell did a day of listening to music in my barracks turn into this?", I remember thinking.  "The Marine Corps told the Japanese that we would take you into custody and that we would lock you up in our jail on Camp Hansen.  So I'm gonna need you to pack up some things, so I can take you up to Camp Hansen to jail."

Yokosuka, Japan, sometime in 1994 
Oh how my life has changed since that dreadful day.  I am in Solitary Confinement again for 30 more glorious days.  "This is it, God, I can't take it anymore.  You say you answer prayers. So, why the fuck aren't you answering mine?  I am sick of this bullshit!  Either you answer my prayers or tonight I'm taking this fucking sheet and I'm hanging myself."  These are my words, as I am sitting Indian style, facing and talking to the wall, the tears continue flowing down my face.  One of the prisoners committed suicide yesterday and Punk ass thought it was funny.  "Redditt San, when are we gonna find you hanging?", he says laughing.  "You are a Bitch you know that?  When I was whooping your ass you were screaming like a bitch but now you want to be tough in front of your goons?"  Damn!  I fall into his trap.  The trap that I said I wouldn't fall into again.  After the last 60 day stint, I decided that was it for me.  But here I am again for 30 days for disrespecting Punk ass. 

Okinawa, Japan, sometime in 1992
"1 year and 9 months of hard labor", the judge said.  I stood there in shock as the judge was rambling on for what seem like hours.  How the hell did 4 misdemeanor charges turn into almost 2 fucking years in prison?  These same charges in the US would have been dropped or I would have got a pat on the wrist at most.  Unfortunately we are in Japan and not America.  So for our "crimes", I got 1 year and 9 months.  My other buddy got 2 years for robbing the cab driver and my other two buddies didn't get charged at all, nor should they have.  I truly believe that the Japanese offered the Americans a deal.  I believe they said, "give us two and we will let two go.".  But, that is my opinion.  I have no proof of that.  The Japanese police took my buddy and myself into custody immediately.  As we arrive at the jail in Okinawa, the two investigators greet us.  "I told you, you would pay.  You are ours now."  A right hook to the face.  Damn!  What a greeting.   I'm here less than one minute and I'm already getting my ass whooped.  I see why they say the life expectancy for an American is less than 6 months.  "You were very disrespectful when we were interviewing you, Redditt San.  I promise you, we will teach you some respect here."

Yokosuka, Japan, 1994 
"Redditt San, your brother tried to visit you and we told him, "No!"."  Punk ass begins to tell me, grinning from ear to ear.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, my brother was stationed in Yokosuka, Japan, in the Navy.  "Wow, my brother!", I thought.  I almost forgot I had a brother or family for that matter.   Let  me back up and explain.  You see, in Japan, you can't have personal visits and you can only write or receive 1 to 4 letters a month, depending on your behavior. Needless to say, I only ever received 5 letters the entire time I was locked up.  So, I was disconnected from my family and friends.  "Fuck him!  I don't want to see him or any of them for that matter!  I have been here for almost two fucking years and I haven't heard from them.  Only one letter from my Mom, two from my sister and two from my step mom.  So, they all can kiss my ass!"  I am angry at the world at this point.  "I just can't understand how everyone has forgotten about me.  Ok no, no don't go there," I tell myself.  "What is the goal? To get out of here alive!  So we have no time to dwell on what is or isn't going on in the outside world.  Stay focused.  I miss my son so much!  I haven't seen him in almost 3 years. He was 2 months the last time I saw him.  Now he is...let's see.  Wow!  He just turned 3.  I wonder what he looks like now.  I wonder if he is..." "Redditt San!"  My thoughts are interrupted by Punk ass.  "You know you aren't gonna make it out of here alive, right?  We are gonna wait until it's almost time for you to leave and than we are gonna kill you.", he breaks into laughter.  Punk ass being Punk ass.  He has being making these statements since I have been here.  They don't even faze me anymore.  Back to my thoughts, "if I stay focused and don't let him get to me, I will be out of here in about 5 months.  8 more days and I will be out of Solitary confinement."  Yesterday Punk Ass really tried to test me by bringing a picture of my son to me and tearing it up right in my face.  "Redditt San", he said, "you have mail!  It's a picture of your son!"   He stands there tearing it up, without even showing it to me.  "This low down motherfucker!  I haven't seen my son in almost 3 years!  I wouldn't know him from Adam if I saw him and the one picture that I do receive...this devil rips it up in my face!  Stay calm, Sheldon, this is only a test.  I tell myself, I will not let him get to me. 

5 months later.... 
Tomorrow is the big day.  I am finally getting out of here. 2 years 3 months 26 days and 11 hours. I am finally free. I am going home!"  Or so I thought... The bullshit that happens next..... To be continued....

Copyright February 2015 by Sheldon Redditt

Saturday, January 31, 2015

2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours (Part 2)

Posted on 01/31/2015



July 1992, Okinawa, Japan
As I came to, I was in a Japanese jail.  "What the hell is going on?", I asked the Japanese Prison Guard.  No answer.  A couple of hours passed and my Staff Sergeant, along with another Marine Corps representative arrived and bailed us out of jail.  

Sometime in late 1993, Yokosuka, Japan
Getting bailed out seems like decades ago, I think as I am sitting here in Solitary Confinement for the 4th time.  This time, I got 60 glorious days for beating the shit out of Punk ass.  I finally caught him by himself and whooped his ass for what seemed like a good 30 seconds before his goons showed up.  I hate Punk ass the most out of all of the Japanese Prison Guards. You see, whereas Hitler, Stalin and the rest of the guards were ruthless, they were indiscriminate in passing out the ass whippings.  EVERYONE got a beating from them.  And I mean EVERYONE had a turn, unless you were willing to give sexual favors to them.  Punk ass, on the other hand, only fucked with me.  So, imagine how happy I was to finally get him alone and beat the crap out of him!  He had it coming this time, for real!  The night before, Punk ass ejaculated into my food after masturbating.  Or at least, that's what he told me the prior evening after picking up my meal tray.  I can still remember the smile on his face when he told me what he had done.  I think I vomited for what seems like hours.  Whether he did or didn't, I was determined that when the opportunity presented itself, I was gonna beat the living shit out of him.  "YOU PUNK ASS MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!  Who is laughing now?", I recall saying while I punched him in his face.  I stomped and kicked him as he hit the ground.  I heard the guards running in to save him.  Damn!  Why didn't I grab his radio first?  It has his body alarm on it!  That's all I could think as I listened to the sound of their footsteps.  That and hit him harder and faster.  In my eagerness to get my revenge on Punk Ass, I didn't think to grab his radio first, so he couldn't activate his body alarm.  Ok, they got me.  Now my beating will begin.  God what has happened to me?  I have turned into the animal that I so despise.  These are my thoughts as I sit in Solitary Confinement.  God, I am turning into a monster and I need your help.  This is my prayer, as the tears begin to pour down my face.  If you let me make it out of here alive, I promise I will dedicate my life to helping others.  I will serve you and do your will in whatever capacity that may be.  If you...  Redditt San!  I hear the Japanese guard call my name. It's funny how they always call you Mr., like they have respect for you or something.  It's shower time the guard informed me with a slight grin on his face.  I know that look.  Something is up.  As I get to the shower, Hitler and Stalin, along with two other guards, were waiting for me.  I didn't even let out a scream, as Hitler hit me with the electric baton.  They all begin to beat the crap out of me.  Revenge for whooping Punk ass.  I must have whooped him good, judging by the way they are whooping my ass.  Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Punk ass in a while.  "Baka Kokujin", I hear them all say which means (stupid black) or (stupid nigger) in Japanese.  As they continue to kick, stomp and hit me with the electric baton, I hear Hitler tell the other guards, "No face shots, the Gaijin (foreigners) will be here next week.".  Under the Sofa Status Agreement that America has with Japan, the Marine Corps is allowed to come and visit any Marine that is locked up in a Japanese prison or jail one time per month.  The Japanese guards always knew when they were coming, so usually a week prior to them coming, the beating would stop.  So, usually you were safe for at least one week out of the month.  Oh how I live for the last week in the month!  The Marine Corps always came on the first of the month.  We always beg them to come unannounced so they can see what really goes on.   But, we are always met with the same answer, "The Japanese dictate the day that we can come.".  Great for me.  

July, 1992 Okinawa, Japan
I had no idea what was waiting for me down the line when my Staff Sergeant and the Marine Corps Representative picked us up from the Okinawa jail.  "What the hell happened?", I remember my Staff Sergeant asking us.  We all repeated the same story.  "We just ran, Staff Sergeant!"  My Staff Sergeant began telling us that the Japanese Authorities believe that we are part of a ring of foreigners whom have been robbing Japanese citizens around town.  "I know you are guilty!", the Japanese investigators scream at me.  "You Gaijin come to our country and rob our hard working citizens.  You will pay!  Mark my words, you will pay!"  "Sir, there is a serious misunderstanding.", I begin to say to the investigator.  "My friends and I are not the people that have been robbing people in town.  We simply took a (honcho) cab back to base.  We just saw our buddy starting to run, so we ran too.  So yes, I guess we are guilty of running, but that's it.  You can put me in a line up, since you say you have witnesses and they will clear us of any wrong doing.  We didn't fucking do this shit!"  "Calm down.", I hear my Staff Sergeant say.  We head home for the day and for the next 2 weeks we went back for questioning.  The investigator finally believed our story.  Thank God we can finally put this mess behind us and go on with our lives.  At least, that's what we thought.  Nothing or no one could have prepared me for what happened to us just 5 days after leaving that police station for what we thought was our last time.  To be continued.....

Copyright January 2015 by Sheldon Redditt 

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours, My Journey To Death And Back(Part 1)

Posted on 01/20/2015


2 YEARS, 3 MONTHS, 26 DAYS and 11 HOURS.  That was the amount of time that I spent in a Japanese prison.  Wow, I finally got it out after 24 years, I finally got it out.  This is my journey to death and back.  I hope that this story will inspire you to never give up.  No matter what, to NEVER GIVE UP.  I have waited 24 years to tell my story.  No longer ashamed.  No longer ashamed. 


Okinawa, Japan, the Year was 1993 
I hear the whistling.  I hear the sound of the electric baton.  God, please not me again tonight.  Last night was too much.  I can still taste and smell Hitler's urine as he and Stalin along with Punk ass stuck my head in the toilet.  After fighting with the three of them for what seem like hours they finally got the best of me.  As Stalin and Punk ass were holding me, Hitler thought it was a good idea to piss in the toilet and soak my face in it.  Ok, let's get this over with already.  Two hours later and Punk ass is still whistling.  It's a mental game at this point.  They like to see you suffer mentally first before the physical abuse starts.  I got a little surprise for their asses if it is me again tonight.  I have poured water mixed with my urine all over the floor so if and when they do come in to get me, I will have the jump on them.  Sure, eventually they will over power me and beat the living shit out of me but I will get some good punches in and enjoy the brief satisfaction of knowing that they got a taste of their own medicine.  Shit!  Showtime, it's me again tonight.  I jump out of bed as soon as I hear the key go into the lock.  As Stalin comes running in first, he slips along with the other two and I begin my attack.  I hit Stalin with a good right left combination.  Lights out.  I don't remember what happened next.  I do remember waking up with....  WAIT!  Let me back up for a second. 

Hitler, Stalin and Punk Ass were the nicknames that we gave to the Japanese Prison Guards. You see, for 2 years, 3 months, 26 days and 11 hours, I was held in a Japanese Prison.  Yes, I said Japanese prison.  FOR WHAT IS THE QUESTION RIGHT?  I will get to that later.  Back to my story, so as I come to, Hitler and Punk ass were holding me while Stalin punched, kicked and hit me with the electric baton.  Afterward, he thought it was a pretty good idea to piss and spit on me for giving him a brief taste of his own medicine.  As I lay here going in and out of consciousness, I asked God, "How did I get here?".  Better yet, "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?".  I don't know how long I laid on that floor bleeding and smelling like piss, but I eventually mustered up enough energy to get up and wash myself up as best I could.  Damn!  I just remembered I had a shower today, so it will be another 2 days before I will get another one.  We were only allowed 3 showers a week.  So, as I was washing up Punk ass comes down and tells me I will be going back to solitary confinement for assaulting him and his two goons.  Great.  Another 30 days in the hole that won't count.  Let me tell you how the Japanese prison system works.  Their prison system is STRICTLY for punishment.  It is not for rehabilitation.  They have one of the lowest crime rates in the World for a reason because prison is HARD LABOR.  They don't have repeat offenders.  So with me receiving another 30 days in the hole, that means that my time stops.  The time you spend in the hole or solitary confinement doesn't count toward your sentence.  I was given a 1 year and 9 month sentence.  But, by this being my 3rd, 30 day sentence in solitary confinement, that 1 year, 9 months has now turned into 2 years.  Solitary Confinement is where the real games begin.  Your day begins with them awaking you at 4am promptly simply to sit in the middle of the floor upright Indian style facing a wall for 12 hours.  There is no furniture just a mat.  You only get 2 bathroom breaks a day, two showers a week and two great meals of fish heads and white rice a day. And if you are lucky a buttered roll.  Or, if you are unlucky you will get soup and white rice mixed with their special sauce of urine. Needless to say there were many days that I didn't eat.  When I went in I weighed 275 pounds.  I came out weighing 155 pounds.  I had a 6 pack though!  

Ok, let's start from the beginning.  I, along with a couple of my Marine Corps buddies were heading back to base from a night club in Okinawa, Japan.  We took a honcho (taxi cab) back to base.  My buddy in the front was in charge of paying the cab driver, as we all had to chip in and we each gave him the money to do so.  My other buddies and I went across the street to our favorite restaurant to order food before we walked up the hill back to base.  I could overhear my buddy and the cab driver beginning to argue about something, so I looked over to see my buddy beginning to run up the hill.  Instinctively, my buddies and I began to run up the hill as well.  "Dude, why are you running?", we began to ask, as we kept running up the hill.  As we got to the top of the hill the honcho had already called the police and told them, that he was just robbed.  The Japanese Police, whom guard the gates at night, immediately stopped us as we got to the top of the hill.  The cab driver, along with several other Japanese Police arrived at the top of the hill.  My buddy began to explain to the police what happened.  He began to explain to them that the cab driver tried to cheat him out of his money.  He stated that it cost about a 1000 yen for the cab, which is about 10 American dollars for the cab fare.  After paying with a 20 dollar bill, the cab driver only gave him $1 back, thus cheating him out of roughly $9.  My buddy got so upset that the cab driver tried to cheat him, that he snatched his money back, along with the cab drivers' money and began to run up the hill toward base.  As he explained to the police what happened, the honcho said, "No!  He took my money too on purpose!"  The Japanese Police said that they were going to take all four of us down to the station for questioning.  I said, "No, the honcho already told you that we didn't do anything but run and that we gave our friend our money to pay him.".  Also, we knew that under the Sofa Status Agreement that the Japanese authorities could hold us for up to 28 days without notifying the American authorities that they have us.  It was thoroughly explained to us as we moved through orientation, that you should never go with the Japanese authorities and that you should always follow protocol and wait for the American authorities or representatives to show up.  I told the police that they had to call the American authorities and that I would not just go with them.  That's when one of the officers attempted to grab me and I pushed his hand away.  He attempted to grab me again and according to the Japanese Police, I swung at him.  But, the next thing I knew I was waking up in the Japanese Jail after being hit in the back of the head with a baton.

To be continued.....

Copyright January 2015 Sheldon Redditt

Monday, January 19, 2015

I Refuse To Go To The Grave Without Telling My Story

Posted on 01/19/2015


I want to thank Angelo Parker for helping me find the courage to tell the world why and for providing me with the missing pieces to my story.


“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” ~ Mark Twain

That is my absolute favorite quote of all time.  The purpose of life for every living being is to discover the reason for their existence.  We are all small in the grand scheme of things, but our presence could leave such a large impact that we are impossible to forget.  What better day to recognize this, than on Martin Luther King Day?  He walked the Earth for but 39 years, but his presence will live on forever.  I'm not saying that each of us will have an impact of that magnitude, but we can each, most definitely leave our mark on this world.

 I am so thankful that I discovered, WHY I AM HERE.  About 2 years ago, I began hearing the whisperings of the Universe.  I heard what has been repeated to me my whole life, starting with the voice of my mother.  She always told me that my way of speaking to others would someday allow me to touch the lives of a multitude of people.  Over the years, I have been told countless times that I have a gift for talking to people, whether it is counseling people, speaking to troubled youth or just talking to my friends and family.  Over the past 2 years, I have come to accept what so many have told me, but I didn't feel that I could be effective without sharing my whole truth.  My biggest fear has been that I would pass on or go to the grave without sharing my full story. 

Three weeks ago, I received a call from one of my old Marine Corp buddies, Angelo Parker.  I hadn't spoken to him in 24 years. Unbeknownst to me, for 24 years, Parker thought I was dead.  YES DEAD!  You see, he, along with the rest of my Marine Corp buddies, were told that the last night they saw me, would in fact be the last time they would ever see me alive.  They were told that undoubtedly, I would be dead in 6 months.  So, imagine his surprise when he found out I was still alive.  That first phone call with him was undeniably, the most emotional conversation I have ever had.  It's indescribable to hear and fully understand that I was supposed to be dead at 19 years old, but then realize that 24 years later I am still here and thriving.  It is truly a blessing.  I knew that The Marine Corps had sent a Staff Sergeant to my mother's house to let her know that her son would be dead in 6 months.  I remember that they tried to prepare me as best as they could, that I wouldn't survive longer than 6 months.  However, when Parker informed me that not only had they planned my funeral, but he had a role to play in it as well, I was floored.  Parker explained that when he arrived to his new command states side, his commander informed him that when I passed, he would be flown back to Japan to be a part of the security detail to escort my body back to America.  The 3 weeks since our conversation has been very turbulent emotionally for me.  I have gone back and forth about telling my story.  I have prayed and meditated about it, but most importantly, I spoke with my wife about it and we both agree that it is time for me to tell my story.  My journey in those 24 years has been nothing short of amazing.  I think I have lived my life, like I would die tomorrow.  I have most definitely lived.  No longer am I ashamed.  I am free.  So tomorrow I will joyously release, "2 Years, 3 Months, 26 Days and 11 Hours, My Journey To Death And Back, Part 1".  I started writing a book because I couldn't put all of this information into a blog series.  This will be my most honest truth.  I refuse to go to the grave without telling my story. This is my truth.  What's yours? 

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Making Your Dash COUNT

 Posted by ~ Sheldon Redditt on 01/06/2015

Dedicated to all those that HAVE made their dash COUNT


All of us are going to die or as I believe pass on to the next level of existence. I don't believe in death as an end all.  I believe that we simply pass on to another level of existence. I don't believe that God would create us to live for 70 or 80 years and that's it, but that's another post altogether.  When you pass on, marked on your tombstone, will be your birth date, a DASH and the date you left this world.  The most important thing on that tombstone is that DASH.  Now, the dash is the smallest thing on the tomb stone, but it is, by far, the most important.  You see, that DASH, tells your story; everything you were, everything you accomplished and all you meant to the world and the people in it.  It tells us what kind of person you were.  If you were a great spouse, a great father, mother or friend, it's written in that dash.  That DASH tells all about you.  I know and believe that we were all put here to make a impact on this Earth.  Albeit, some impacts will be greater than others but that is our purpose, to make that dash count.  When you pass on, what do you want your DASH to say about you?  When I pass on, I want my DASH to say that I was a great Husband and Father.  Did I make mistakes?  Of course I did, but when I leave I want to know that I finally got it right.  It's important to me that I was a great friend.  It's important to me that I tried to make a difference, NO, that I did make a difference in the lives of the less fortunate.  For me, "trying", is just a noble way of saying, "I failed".  I want to make so much of an impact while I'm here that when I do pass on, a big smile brightens someone's face, every time my name is mentioned. 

As I sit here writing, I received news that a former co-worker just passed on from a freak accident at work.  He was 25 years young, with a wife and a new born baby girl.  My wife and I are so saddened by this news.  I was telling my wife that this young man MADE HIS DASH COUNT!  He was doing the work that he loved to do.  He was making a difference in this world.  You see, what it made me realize, is this... It does not matter how long or short of a time you are here, it's what you do with your time on this Earth. In the 25 years he was on this Earth, he made more of an impact with the kids that he helped than some people do that have lived 100 years.  He had a wife that he adored and together they brought a beautiful little girl into this world.  He touched so many of his co-workers lives in so many ways.  And I'm sure that there a plethora of others lives, that I could never know the way he impacted them, but I have no doubt, he did.  But most of all, his dash counted because he was happy and he was living a life that he loved.

What are you doing to make your dash count?  Are you living or are you existing?  There is a big difference in the two.  To exist is to quote an old Jackson Browne song, "The Pretender".  "I've been aware of the time going by.  They say in the end it's the wink of an eye.  And when the morning light comes streaming in.  You'll get up and do it again.... I'm going to be a happy idiot.  And struggle for the legal tender."  To live, is to wake up each new day with a purpose; to do your purpose, what you are meant to do in this moment in time, with enthusiasm and happiness.  Living is surrounding yourself, with love and friendship, family and friends.  

I am so grateful that I have found my purpose.  I know why I am here.  I'm here to help people; to be of service.  There are many avenues that I have taken to do this and many more out there to explore.  I think motivational speaking is the next on my list of endeavors.  With each new endeavor, I find myself full of excitement, joy and filled with a new thought driven purpose.  Living at its finest!  I am determined to make my dash count.  That for me includes telling the real Sheldon Redditt story and it will blow you away.  I hope that each of you will begin to think about your dash and what you can do to set the world on fire.  I heard that the richest place on Earth is the local cemetery.  Rich with thoughts and ideas that were never shared or executed.  Please, don't add to that richness.  Make the world rich, above ground!  This is my truth!  What's yours?

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Imagine A World WITHOUT Cops

Posted by ~ Sheldon Redditt on 12/24/2014

Dedicated to Officer Rafael Ramos, Officer Wenjian Liu, their families and the NYPD Officers that lost their brothers.


"NYPD can't breathe."  "Two cops just got shot in Brooklyn.... Salute the shooter."  "Mike Brown mother cryed to an every other mama an wife cryed when they was killed by the police.  So shut up."  "Those pigs got what they deserved."  These are direct quotes pulled from social media.

So, let us imagine that someone is breaking into your home, you pick up the phone and call 911.  Wait a minute!  You CAN'T call 911 because there are no cops.  What do you do?? Imagine that you are out at a supermarket and someone kidnaps your child and you pick up the phone... to call WHO?  Imagine that a man is beating a woman and you're witnessing the beating.  WHO do you pick up the phone and call?  Imagine if two rivaling gangs are shooting at each other and innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire.  You dash for your phone and call WHO?  Imagine your elderly relative lives alone, all other family members are in the same town as you and no one has heard from this family member in days!  They aren't answering your repeated phone calls; you are terrified that something has happened to them, so you frantically decide to pick up the phone but it dawns on you, WHO are you calling?  I could go on and on for days with different scenarios that could happen.  But what would YOU do, if there were no cops?

There are over 780,000 cops in America and a majority of them are great cops.  They put their lives on the line every day to keep us safe.  Do we have bad cops?  Of course, we do!  Just like any company in America there are bad employees, but that doesn't make the entire company bad because they have a few bad employees.  The same way an entire company isn't blamed for a few bad employees, that same courtesy should extend to our Police Officers.  Just like in those companies, the answer is to terminate the bad employees when it's recognized.  While I realize that what some officers do may, and often does require more than a simple termination, vigilant justice is NOT the answer.

Two innocent cops lost their lives for no reason at all. These men were someone's son, husband and father.  One of them, only married two months.  Imagine the devastating loss that would suffocate you.  Imagine if someone killed your husband, son or father; just because of the job he works.  Think about that.  Your loved one gunned down, simply because of the job that they work.  Not just any job, but a job that requires you to put your life on the line every day.  A job that is the most stressful job in America.  A job where you feel you are never appreciated.  A job where you find yourself, answering, "just fine", "great" or "good",  at the end of the day when your loved one asks, how your day went.  You don't tell them the horrible truth, you say fine, every time.  Most days the things you witness are anything but fine. But alas, you get up the next morning to do it all over again.  That's what a cop goes through on a daily basis.  We are the first ones you call when you need help.  But, we are also inherently the first ones to receive blame when you don't like the way we handle giving the help, that you called for in the first place.

So many are saying, this is no different from people being gunned down for the color of their skin, but it is different.  I am in no way negating the travesty that is, being black in America, but this is different.  These men and women choose to take on a profession that is mostly thankless, but they strive to make our world better and safer.  It's unfair to the ones, which ARE many, to fear going to work because a vigilante may put a bullet in their head, while they're answering a call or worse yet, sitting at a stop light.

Imagine if one of your coworkers killed someone and in return some random person just pulls out a gun and starts killing people at your company.  They kill random people just because they work at the same company, as your coworker that killed another person.  How sick would that be, just to kill some one simply because they work at the same company?  Is that not the same thing that happened to these police officers?  They were murdered just because they worked for the NYPD.  They had absolutely nothing to do with the Eric Garner murder.  Their beliefs, thoughts and feelings about the case weren't questioned before the trigger was pulled.  I doubt that they even knew the cop that choked and killed Eric Garner.  They were killed for what?  This idiot wrote on his social media page that two pigs are gonna get their wings today.  You kill one of us, we kill two of you.  What us, was he speaking of because I am not in the us when it comes to killing innocent people.  He was a very sick individual.  I am equally sickened by many of the comments glorifying the taking of these two officers lives by this idiot.  These senseless murders fixed NOTHING.  What they did do, is widen an already massive divide and create a new one, between citizens and law enforcement.  Don't think that law enforcement officers aren't going to be quicker to pull their guns now because they fear for their lives now.  And THEY have the guns.  There has to be a better way for people to speak out and seek justice for what they feel and what they believe.  Peacefully protest, talk to your friends and to people that are different from you, outside your circle and color lines, petition for the officer that killed Eric Garner to lose his position with NYPD, but don't murder innocent people for going to work.  And don't spew hate, as that solves nothing.  Social media has been wonderful in maintaining connections and reconnecting long lost friends, but the amount of hatred that it is bringing to the forefront is frightening and disheartening.  The only thing I can suggest is to not give the negativity your energy or do speak back, but in a positive fashion.  There is a racial divide in America.  That is undeniable.  I hope in my lifetime I can see it begin to, if not close completely.  In the meantime, let's strive to uplift those that protect us and honor their position and choice to do what most won't ever do; lay their lives on the line for strangers every day.  Justice has to be for all, period.  Remember, in demanding justice, we have to give and seek justice, even for the ones that we feel are giving us no justice.  You can't want justice for one group of people and not want it for another.  THAT ISN'T JUSTICE.  This is my truth. What's yours?

  

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

A Little Positive Light In An Often Dark World

Posted by ~ Sheldon Redditt on 12/17/2014

I dedicate this post to my wife, Amy and my daughter, Hayden.  I will continue to do everything in my power to help you both continue to LIVE in this world and NEVER just exist!


I wanted to do something a little different today in light of all of the negative events happening in the world as of late.  They say you put out that which you wish to get back.  So, this is my positivity, my light and inspiration for the day.  Just over a year ago my wife was interviewed for an article for a website, called Everest, that is intended to encourage and inspire people to move toward their dreams and goals.  I was in awe that of all their subscribers, they were interested enough in her dream of broadening our daughters horizons to interview her.  I am very proud of her and what we are accomplishing with Hayden.  I hope you'll enjoy the article.

Everest Interview ~ by Cassie Peretore
Amy Redditt knows that her Everest is worth all the effort when she sees the smile and excitement in her two-year-old daughter Hayden’s eyes. Amy dreams of giving Hayden a life full of truly enriching experiences that will help to shape her into an adventurous, compassionate, and open-minded human being. An enriched life doesn’t require a passport full of exotic destination stamps or a Rolodex full of big names; to Amy, a meaningful life is being open to other cultures and ways of life, learning about other people’s journeys, and finding happiness through experiences. She wants Hayden to see all fifty states before she turns eighteen (she’s already been to fourteen!), figure out what she is passionate about, take up Spanish, and appreciate art and music. These are the kinds of enriching experiences that shape a person into a dreamer and an achiever, and this is what Amy wants for Hayden.
Amy has met a lot of amazing people in her life, but many of these people were from other parts of the country and world; Amy is cognizant of the wonders that diverse people and cultures can offer. Amy grew up in Memphis, Tennessee where “many people didn’t dream much bigger than their own backyard.” She wants Hayden to always dream bigger than the backyard; she is showing her daughter how to appreciate what’s beyond that fence. She and her husband take every chance they get to expose Hayden to her world. Each month they make sure they travel, whether it is just to a hotel a few towns over or to Puerto Rico. Regardless of where they’re going, they go somewhere, they meet someone, and they learn something.
Amy dreams that Hayden will be willing to listen to and understand different people as a result of these enriching experiences. She hopes that when Hayden finds people who have not been fortunate enough to have the experiences that she has, she will reach out to them and teach them what she has learned. Amy is giving Hayden a life of inspirational experiences in the hopes that she will give back and pass on the lessons of these experiences to others. And one day, when Hayden is old enough to think that her parents are cool again, she’ll thank them for teaching her to live this way.


Wednesday, December 10, 2014

The Affordable Care Act: Not So Damn Affordable

Posted by ~ Sheldon Redditt on 12/10/2014

I dedicate this post to my mother-in-law, Corliss Finlay, and the countless other Americans that are feeling the same frustrations.  Just like everything else, we will get through this.


President Barack Obama ~ "I will sign a universal health care bill into law by the end of my first term as president that will cover every American and cut the cost of a typical family's premium by up to $2,500 a year."

If there was ever a time to band together, it is NOW!  Today, not tomorrow, is the time that we must all stand up and be heard that, We The People, will not stand for our families to be torn down, dollar by dollar, until there is nothing left for us to thrive.  We must appeal, The Affordable Care Act, NOW. 

Insurance Promising 1000 Minutes & Free Roaming for $75 A Month
Let me back up and start from the beginning.  When President Obama first started championing for health care for all Americans, I was the first one on board.  I mean, we ARE the richest and most powerful country in the world.  So, why shouldn't all Americans have health care that they could afford?  The President even got on TV and told us to LISTEN.  He said, that if you have health care with your current employer nothing will change.  You will continue to pay the same as usual.  Your insurance won't go up.  And to quote President Obama directly, "Knowing you can offer your family the security of health care -- that’s priceless.  Now you can do it for the cost of your cable bill.  Probably less than your cellphone bill.  Think about that.  Good health insurance for the price of your cellphone bill, or less."  Can someone help me find these people that have this cell phone plan priced equivalent to this new Health Care Plan?  And if you do find them, maybe we need to issue a consumer alert that there are cheaper cell phone plans out there?  I don't know any three year olds' toting around cell phones that end up costing them an extra $2200 a year after already paying a premium for them.  But, I'll get to that in a bit.  So, with him making that speech, I thought, yes, this is the greatest thing EVER.  If you have any pre-existing medical problems, you can't be denied coverage!  Do you know how significant that is for so many people?  Gone are the days that insurance companies could just charge whatever they wanted because all of them would be competing to get your business, thus driving the cost down.  So this would be a win win for the American People, RIGHT?  WRONG!!  Boy, we were SO WRONG!  Instead of it being a win win, it has been a big LOSE LOSE!  



Last year, my health insurance went up 25%. Now, yes, I was a little upset because I thought that it would not go up.  But, I was not so naive as to not understand that premiums do go up a little from year to year.  Still, 25% seemed to be a lot for an annual increase.  I have discussed this with multiple friends and just like my family, they all saw a sufficient increase in their health insurance.  

Medicaid: Free Insurance That Costs You A Fortune In Gas
I work with kids that are wards of the state and I started noticing that less and less, were doctor's taking their Medicaid insurance.  In fact, the books that were sent out at the beginning of the year, that were filled with doctors willing to accept their specific form of Medicaid, should really be sent to my family and friends in Arkansas and Tennessee, to help them start their fireplaces this year.  Burning them seems to be the only effective use because either no doctor in the book accepts their insurance anymore OR if you do win the lottery and find one willing, you better be prepared to fuel up because you'll be driving 30 minutes to an hour south to a neighboring city.  Maybe someone should coin a way to turn paper into fuel.  Hmmmmm, I may be on to something here!  I had a conversation with a doctor that the children use on a regular basis and I asked him what is going on with their insurance.  He stated to me that while most people thought that Obamacare would be a great thing, in reality, it was a terrible thing.  His reasoning was that the insurance and pharmaceutical companies are going to make a huge profit regardless of how the laws are tweaked.  When these mandates went into affect, such as not denying anyone with any pre-existing health condition, the insurance companies tweaked themselves as well, by doing things like doubling the costs of anything related to that particular medical condition.   He said that likewise, the pharmaceutical companies made adjustments by inflating the costs of medicine used to treat those illnesses.  It seems that if a medicine had cost $20, now it will cost you $100.  Who is paying for this?  We, the tax payers and consumers are.  But, back to the kids with Medicaid, we are not only having an issue finding doctors that will see them, now we have issues with their prescriptions being approved and filled as well.  Some of these kids are on psychotropic meds and have been for years and suddenly it is a problem for them to get them.  You can't just STOP taking a psychotropic medicine cold turkey.  So, we have to jump through a million hoops to make it happen for these kids.  And on the frivolous end, who wants to spend 10 hours in a month trying to get an approval for a kids' acne face wash?  Two months later that acne face wash still isn't approved, so what do you do?  You pay out of pocket and hope that at some point in time, it will be approved and you can be reimbursed.

My Three Year Old Needs to Get A Job
And then, it gets personal.  I found out a couple of days ago that my daughter's insurance was going up over $2200 a year starting in January, With No Warning!  To say that my wife and I were beyond pissed, is putting it lightly.  The next day, I found out that our insurance was going up another 40 %.  YES, I said 40%!  So, not only did it go up 25% last year, it went up another 40% this year.  That is a 65% increase in two years.  Now, you tell me how that is fair!  Everyone I have talked to is saying the same thing.  Everyone is seeing a huge increase in their insurance.  One of my wife's friends' told her that her birth control pills that she has been getting for free for years, will now cost her $68 a month. Thats $816 a year.  And while some may say that's an expendable prescription, no one knows from case to case if it's medically necessary or a choice.  Birth control pills are known to help prevent certain types of cancer, among other things.  To quote President Obama again,  "And starting on January 1st, they won’t be able to charge women more for their insurance just because they're women.  That's a good thing."  I guess he wasn't talking about women's prescriptions.  Ladies and gentleman, there is no other way to say this other than, we were lied to about this affordable health care crap!   It hasn't been affordable to me or anyone I know.  


Have The Golden Years Turned Into The Bronze Years?
I was on the phone with my mother-in law for over an hour last night and she was venting about how terrible Obama Care has been for both her and her Aunt.  Her Aunt worked all her life, is now retired and has Medicare.  She has an aggressive form of cancer and now on top of all that worry, she has been awarded many hoops to jump through to get approval for medicine. She will turn 80 years old, just before Christmas.  How is it fair for our elderly citizens who have worked all their lives and should be enjoying retirement to have to worry about health insurance?  Medicare should cover all the costs without making them spend hours on the phone or in person fighting to just get the care they deserve every month.  They earned it. There will be over 700 billion in cuts to Medicare from 2013 to 2022.  That is billion, not million!  Now, do you really think you can cut over 700 billion from a program and it have a positive affect?  I think not.  From 2000 to 2010, doctors were reimbursed for Medicare at about 80% of private insurance rates—not great, but sustainable for most practices.  In 2013 that number dropped to 55% and will continue to drop every year. It's no wonder doctors don't want to take Medicare patients.  At that rate, it will end up costing them money to do so.  I was researching the Medicare Prescription Drug Plan and do you know there is a cutoff point for prescription drugs?  For example, if you have Medicare Prescription Plan D, once you reach the coverage limit of $2970, you are responsible for ALL costs of your prescription drugs at that point.  So, what are our senior citizens supposed to do at that point?  If they have cancer or any other serious medical condition; what are they supposed to do about their prescriptions?  The cost of those drugs are very expensive.  This has turned into the biggest disaster ever!  My mother-in-law said, that the general sentiment of those she knows with impending retirement looming ahead is now, that when they hit age 66, just take them in a field and shoot them.  They don't want to be a burden to their family and they see what is coming.  While, she knows very well, that is a blanket sarcastic statement meant to drive a point home; unfortunately it is an all too real expression of the fear that many aging Americans are feeling.  The American Dream is not to work hard just to reach your Golden Years and feel that you have become a burden on your loved ones.  You want your children to thrive, not to be overcome with worry struggling to make ends meet because they now have not only their own family but also their parents to take care of and look after.  But, this is the reality of what is coming if we don't take steps to change it.  We are looking at a soon to be, disappearing middle class.

There Has To Be A Solution
Let me be clear, it would be great for everyone to have health care, but the taxpayers should not have to pay for it.  And it is unfair for those that are barely scraping by to pay a penalty for not having health care.  What does that solve?  Now they are trying even harder to make ends meet.  It's getting to the point where most people will not be able to afford, the so called affordable health insurance because it is definitely not the price of a cell phone plan, as it was so eloquently dangled in front of us.  This Act simply has to be appealed.  I think the government should stay out of this.  I mean, who are they to tell us what is best for us, when their health care is totally free?  And it's health care today, what will it be tomorrow?  We, as Americans, must have a discussion on what WE can do to make this change.  Let me hear your thoughts and suggestions.  This is not meant to simply be a rant.  I want to do whatever I can to help make an effective change for everyone.  The untruth so eloquently spoken by President Obama, that if you have medical insurance with your employer, your insurance would not be affected, was just that, an untruth.  My insurance went up 65% and my daughters' even more.  This is my truth!  What's yours?

Friday, December 5, 2014

Do Black Lives Really Matter To Anyone?

Posted by~ Sheldon Redditt on 12/05/2014


Do black lives really matter to anyone?  This is the question being asked all over the world.  I, like most Americans, am outraged by the decision of a grand jury, not to indict Officer Daniel Pantaleo for the choking death of Eric Garner.  I am equally angry about the death of Tamir Rice, the 12 year old child, whom was shot by Officer Timothy A Loehmann.  

Eric Garner Was Murdered
First, I will start with the facts in the Eric Garner case.  Eric Garner was approached by officers for allegedly selling loose cigarettes.  Stop and think about this for a second, a father of 6 and husband, lost his life over some cigarettes.  Anyone that has visited New York City knows that they sell everything, from watches to wallets, on the street.  For him to be harassed and ultimately lose his life over some cigarettes, is an absolute tragedy.  I understand that the store owner called the police because he felt that he was losing business, due to the fact that he also sold cigarettes in his store.  However, the police could and should have handled this complaint much differently.  I have read a lot of people's comments on social media suggesting, that if Mr. Garner would have simply complied with the police officer, he would still be alive.  In cases like these, we must stop trying to turn the victim into the villain.  As a former law enforcement officer, I know that we are TRAINED for situations, in which people resist arrest.  We expect that people will resist on occasion but that doesn't mean we kill them.  The choke hold that the officer used was banned by the New York Police Department.  Based on the ban alone, this officer should have been indicted, not to mention that the medical examiner ruled Mr. Garner's death a homicide.  Again, the medical examiner ruled his death a homicide.  Officer Pantaleo used a choke hold that was banned and it was caught on tape.  See, you don't have to speculate what happened here because there are several videos documenting the incident.  Officer Pantaleo also had two prior lawsuits filed against him, one of which was settled by the city of New York.  The second lawsuit is on going.  Now, for the city to settle a lawsuit, you better believe there was some wrong doing on that officer's part.  And then for him to find himself in a similar situation again, less than a month later?  Officer Pantaleo should have been fired.  If the NYPD would have simply done their job in the first or even second case, Eric Garner would be alive today.  Then, there are seven other police officers that just stood by and let this happen. They are equally responsible.  Not one even attempted to stop this officer.  All of the officers had to know that it was an illegal hold.  You see, as police officers, we are trained to step in if you see a fellow officer doing something against the rules.  You step in and say, "Hey listen!  You can't do that!" or "Cool off, let me take over.".  But none of that happened.  I haven't forgotten the code that we live by as officers, but when one is doing wrong, at least one officer should have stepped in.  Officer Pantaleo should have been charged with murder.  Period!  The grand jury got it wrong! 

Tamir Rice Was Murdered
Then, there is Tamir Rice, the 12 year old child, that was shot and killed by Officer Loehmann, in Cleveland, Ohio, for waving a toy gun.  Again, I saw countless comments on social media that this cop had the right to shoot this kid because he didn't know if the gun was real or not.  It was of no consequence, that the gentleman that called in said the gun was probably a fake.  Again, police officers are trained to know what to do in EVERY situation so there was no excuse.  Do you have any idea how many times police officers are called to the scene of a suspect waving or carrying a gun and the perp lives?  You know why?  Because, they use their training properly!  This baby was shot within 2 seconds of these officers arriving on the scene.  2 seconds!  The officer claims that he told the child to put the gun down three times.  How is that possible, when he was shot within 2 seconds? The video doesn't lie.  Again, let's look at Officer Loehmann's background.  Officer Loehmann resigned from the Independence Ohio Police Department.  BEFORE they fired him, they gave him the option to resign, which he chose to do.  A direct quote from the police deputy Chief Jim Polak, described Loehmann, "as having EMOTIONAL MATURITY ISSUES and an inability to manage stress.  Officer Loehmann couldn't follow simple instructions during a firearm qualification and became weepy and distracted."  He also wrote and this is very important, "that he didn't feel that either time, nor training would be able to correct or change these deficiencies."  That came from the deputy chief.  So, tell me, why in the hell, was he ever hired by the Cleveland Police Department?  What kind of background check was done on this guy?  All they had to do was look at his personnel file.  He should have never been hired in the first place!  Now a child is dead because of an incompetent officer whom should have never been hired in the first place.  

The 10% That Stands To Shame A Whole Profession
Now, most police officers are great officers, but it's that 10% that makes every officer look bad.  Police brutality is a serious problem, especially when dealing with Black Men. The police departments around the country have to do a better job hiring officers.  And it is a must that the Cultural Diversity Training gets better.  I think and I have said this before, it should be the law, that all law enforcement officers are required to wear body cameras.  Now, of course I realize that many have the sentiment that there is no point because Eric Garner's murder was caught on tape and it did not make a difference.  But one must understand that a police officers' mentality would automatically change when he knows that everything he does is being recorded.  That hot headed police officer will hopefully think twice before he even steps the wrong way.  Officer Pantaleo did not know that he was being recorded.  Had he known, he might have thought twice before acting in the manner in which he did.  Body cameras would most definitely cut down on a lot of deaths.  We have to start making these bad cops accountable for their wrong-doings, give them a reason to think before acting and for those that still choose not to, send their asses to prison.  Thankfully President Obama is already on board with the cameras and hopefully officers will get them sooner rather than later.  People are angry and they have the right to be!  Black Lives Do MATTER.  And they should matter, not only to their families, but they should matter to everyone.  What can we do?  Let me address Black Men for a minute.  Men, we have to do better.  We have to start mentoring and talking to our young men.  We have to teach them that in order for them to be respected by anyone, we have to first respect ourselves.  We have to stop killing each other.  Pull your pants up and stop getting a million tattoos all over your body.  We have to teach them that they need to respect women and to follow the proper protocol when dealing with the police.  We have to stop this silliness, that we won't snitch when a crime is being committed within our neighborhoods. We need to be just as outraged when we kill each other.  Black life shouldn't just matter when a white person takes it, but matter equally when another Black person takes a life as well. 

Change The Future
Now let me address some of the comments about the statistics on black on black crime.  Yes, 90% of the of the homicides committed on black men are committed by other black men.  Listen that is the case with every race.  Most white homicides are committed by white people as are homicides with every other race.  People commit violent acts on this closest to them.  So, stop with that, when we are talking about police brutality.  We are getting better. The statistics show that there were 7,361 black men killed by another black man in 1991. That number dropped to 2,447 in 2011, a 67% drop.  So yes, we are doing a lot better but until that number is at 0, we still have work to do.  I had a talk with several young men yesterday about the recent events and what part they feel they can play in changing the future of this country.  I must say, I am encouraged by our youth demonstrating by peacefully protesting to make themselves heard.  This is the greatest country in the world, in that we are allowed to have freedom of speech.  We all are in this together.  Be encouraged, make yourself heard, but do it peacefully.  We can all make a difference, if we come together.  When a black man is killed unjustly, we all; Black, White, Asian and Hispanic, should be outraged.  A black life does and should matter to ALL.  This is my truth!  What's yours?

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Cooning for White People or An Inspiration to Many?

Posted on 11/29/2014


Am I Cooning or Inspiring, you decide.  I am writing this post simply for the family and so-called friends that think I have; so-called sold out, forgot where I came from, am "cooning for Masa", that say I hate being black, that I hate black people and the countless other things I have been called or accused of, since starting this blog a little over 2 months ago.  When I first started this blog, I stated that some of the topics would be controversial at times and while I welcome all comments, agreeing or disagreeing, I would not stand for hate.  From some of you, hate is all I have received.  Not only have I been attacked, but my wife, whom has nothing to do with my blog or my opinions, has been attacked as well.  Now, I am going to address this issue one time and one time only. 

I Apparently HATE Black People
Lets start with my hatred of black people.  I have devoted the last 20 years of my life helping people.  That is not only my passion, but it is my calling.  This is what I was born to do.  80% of the people I have worked with are black.  You say that I hate being black!  Can you be serious?  I will willingly compare my record with any of you in regard to what I have done for black people.  I've never felt the need to broadcast how I attempt to help out, but I feel it is necessary.  One can only accept the bashing so long before they feel the need to correct it.  Over the years, I have mentored and counseled gang members, spoken at countless schools in hopes of discouraging kids from joining gangs and taught primarily black young men, the principles of manhood.  I have taught them that there is no excuse, for not being successful.  I have worked with young girls to try to steer them in the direction that their absent fathers should have steered them.  I have tried to teach them how to be respectable young ladies and not to accept just anything from a boy.  I love black people.  Let me say that again.  I love black people and I love being black!  I dare any of you to question that, based upon the 5 or 6 blogs that I have written, that you perceived to be negative about black people.  What about all the others that I have written on marriage, friendship, about my father and about the uplifting of people?  No, you only focus on what you think is negative.  You have the right to disagree with me but be respectful.  I haven't been anything less, to any of you. 

I Am A Sellout
I'm a sellout.  Really?  Well, let me tell you about this sellout.  I can't count the people that I have run into that tell me that I helped change their lives.  They've said that if it wasn't for me, they would surely be dead or in prison.  I ran into a police officer a couple of months ago in Memphis, who came up to me in tears to thank me for saving his life.  He told me that a conversation I had with him when he was 16, changed his life forever.  He said that I told him that if he isn't successful in life, it would be his own fault.  Apparently I told him, "yes, your mother and father abandoned you, but are you gonna use that as a excuse to fail?"  He is 28 now and happily married with 2 kids.  I didn't remember that kid from Adam but he remembered me. I have countless stories like this.  I don't go around bragging that, I did this and I did that, but my record speaks for itself.  While the majority of you go to work, come home and get on social media to attack me.  I am putting in the work, to try to help save lives, black and white.  But, I'm the sellout?  I'm trying to fix the problem, not be part of it.  Amy and I work with the homeless, giving them our time and money, trying to help them get back on the right path, in hopes that we can help them find the spark they need to get into a better position.  We even take our daughter with us, so she can learn the importance of service to others and to always help the unfortunate, that want/need help.   I'm working with a young man now, that in all of my 20 years of doing this work, I haven't seen a kid as bright and talented as him.  A former NFL quarterback contacted me and said he HAS to work with this kid because he is something special.  This quarterback offered this kid a scholarship to a private school, that costs $25,000 a year.  And wouldn't you know, this kid doesn't want to go because he said he doesn't want to be around all those white folks.  This kids' sorry ass parents smoked weed with him, from the time he was 9 until he was 13.  He is 14 now and has been removed from their care for a year, but because they told him not to trust white folks, he doesn't want to seize what could be the biggest opportunity of his life.  This is what I deal with on a day to day basis.  Now I have to show this young man, that what he knows as his normal, is not the norm at all.  

Amnesia Abounds
Don't forget where I came from!  I didn't develop a case of amnesia!  I can never forget where I came from.  Listen, I will not be defined by some small town in Arkansas.  I have lived in many other places that helped shape who I am.  You can't put me in a box  because I don't fit.  You want to hold me to my past, saying stuff like he used to hate white people.  He called them devils and now look at him, he is married to one of them.  The way that I thought 20 years ago has changed and rightfully so.  What intelligent person thinks the same way at 43, as he did at 23?  And if you find one, I can guarantee you, that person isn't successful!  Some of you have put my personal business on social media.  I can only assume that you thought, that I was ashamed of my past or that my white friends didn't know certain things about me, so your disclosure would turn them away.  I still remained respectful.  I have nothing to hide.  My past is just that, my past.  We ALL have one, but I wouldn't dare put your past shortcomings on social media, no matter what.  I am not ashamed of ANYTHING in my past because it was either a learned lesson or a life experience.  I am who I am and I was who I was and I am cool with both of them. 

Cooning For Whitey
Now, as far as me COONING for white people and not pointing out their wrongs.  I have on many occasions pointed out their wrongs and have even done a blog about it.  How can I not speak on the wrongs that white people have done and continue to do to black people?  You really believe that I think that racism doesn't exist?  Are you that foolish?  I have, like every other black person in America, witnessed this first hand. Hell, I witnessed it last night at Target, when a lady saw me coming and snatched her purse out of the basket and put it on her shoulder.  I have been stopped by white police officers on numerous occasions.  So, for me to think it doesn't exist, would be crazy.  Now, here is the difference for me.  I don't dwell on whether white people are racist toward me or not.  That is totally their problem.  I know that I have to be successful in spite of that.  This is what I teach and have taught to the hundreds of kids that I have come In contact with.  Yes, racism exists, always has, always will, but that is not an excuse for failure.  Now my blogs are made up of my opinions and also based on facts.  You can say all you want, but show me where I am wrong.  I have said this on many occasions, I will debate history with any of you, where it is relevant to the subject at hand.  I not only know MY history, but that of white people, Asian people and others as well.  I don't just say anything, just to be saying it.  If you have a issue with me, pick up the phone and call me because you better believe that if I had a problem with you, I would pick up the phone and call you.  It seems that some of you just like to be negative and display your insecurities by displaying for the world the latest thing you got or did.  But then want to make a claim that I'm the one that needs therapy?  And I'm to assume that's meant as an insult?  I think therapy is a great idea for anyone and definitely not a bad idea for someone that's always overcompensating for something, by flaunting their stuff or accomplishments.



I Will Keep Uplifting, You Can Too
In closing, you are more than welcome to disagree with me.  I was hoping my blog would spark a dialogue, which it has successfully done.  But, it's my blog and there is no call for attacking my wife, especially when she hasn't done anything to any of you.  For you to post a video, directing it toward her, someone you haven't even met, was wrong.  How is that uplifting?  Since you say you pride yourself on that.  But I digress, you say you pride yourself on uplifting black people, not all people.  If you disagree with me, that's ok, but to attack her for no reason, when she hasn't said one bad thing about you, that was totally uncalled for.  I for one, choose to use my voice to uplift ALL PEOPLE and to speak truth based upon what I know.  I have so much more to say, but I am going to re-devote my time to the Tamir Rice blog I was writing, involving a young black boy that was gunned down by a white police officer, in Cleveland, OH.  Don't ever question me on who I am.  I have hundreds that can tell you who I am and what I mean to them.  My record speaks for itself and I would put it up against any of yours.  I am making a difference in this world, not just talking about it.  So, while you are busy discussing who you think I am.  This is who I am!  A coon for white people or a inspiration for many.  I think, no I know, I am the latter. This is my absolute truth!  What's yours?