Revisiting Impressions of One Memoir by James Womack...

It's 2018, and much of what I saw changing in my early years, seems to have erupted and come back even stronger... What I'm specifically talking about is discrimination... In 2014, I read the book by James Womack, among others by Black authors. When I finished I asked the question:

Where Is It? Check out my review first as it is the basis for this article...

In November of the same year, I published an email response from James... At that time, Jolande, James' wife was admitted to a nursing home.

Until 2017, a year I hope never to occur again, It was then that incitement of rage, discrimination, anger, prejudice, and hate began to be pressed into the open. Now, as years have gone by, I know what exactly caused James to change his response to my original question to him: Where is it, James? Where is the anger I feel after reading your story? Here's the main chapter from his book about what happened:

Chapter 27 - Bathsheba’s Revenge
              “When we think we have been hurt by someone in the past, we build up defenses to protect ourselves from being hurt in the future. So the fearful past causes a fearful future and the past and future become one. We cannot love when we feel fear.... When we release the fearful past and forgive everyone, we will experience total love and oneness with all.” ― Gerald G. Jampolsky
               Our lives slowly returned to a routine minus my oldest daughter. I worked at DFAS in military Pay and Jolande returned to her job as a bagger at the Army Food Commodity store where she had worked since the summer of 1988. My children convinced Jolande to apply for a daytime bagger position. All four of my children worked as baggers at the Army Food Commodity Store after school to earn spending cash.
       Jolande worked from 7:00 am to 4:00 pm Monday through Friday. That way, she only worked while the children were in school, but would be home when the children returned from school.  Jolande immediately created a base of customers that loved her. Many of her customers would not allow anyone else to bag their groceries if she was on the premises. She was fast and very efficient, and she had the personality to turn every stranger into a friend, like my mother and Grandma Julia.  She mirrored my maternal grandmother and mother in that way: she knew no enemies. She even had one WWII veteran, Sergeant Happy who loved her and tipped her $20.00 to bag one bag of groceries.
Unfortunately, this generous tipper proved to be detrimental.  Jolande’s co-worker, Bathsheba, became very jealous of Jolande because she had so many good-tipping customers. Apparently, Bathsheba decided that in order for her to capture Jolande’s customers, she had to get Jolande fired. The episode detailing how this was accomplished will fill the pages of another book. However, enough details follow that will paint an illustrious portrait of Bathsheba’s plan and its successful execution.     
Our dubious acquaintance with Bathsheba began in the late nineties. When we met the first time, she suggested that Jolande and I should eat plenty of peanut butter and jelly daily. When we asked why, she replied that it provides increased sex hormones. I warned Jolande then that this woman was dangerous, ill informed, and just nutritionally challenged.  Bathsheba also often spoke of her three failed marriages. I sensed a hint of jealousy that Jolande and I had achieved something she desired but had not yet achieved. I warned Jolande not to trust her. In spite of this warning, Bathsheba managed to gain Jolande’s trust. She was manipulative and had perfected the art of buying other’s trust, but her friendship was agenda driven.  She knew perfectly well from the beginning the goals she worked to accomplish.  She bought my grandson a $50.00 U.S. savings bond for his birthday three years in a row.  She emulated Jolande’s lifestyle and accomplishments. Jolande and I visited her home at least four times for coffee and cake and we reciprocated. Bathsheba bragged publicly about how good she was in bed.  Jolande was the most courteous, fastest, and most efficient bagger on the Army Food Commodity Store bagging staff.  The Army weekly Newspaper even published an article that featured Jolande on December 7, 1989.
 In May 1997, Jolande survived two major cancer surgeries and was absent for chemotherapy and cancer treatments from May through November of 1997. While she was absent, Bathsheba converted a substantial number of her good tipping customers.  Jolande returned to a workplace where the dynamics of friendships had radically changed. The most drastic and devastating change came in February 2002 when the baggers voted in Mr. Judas, a retired Navy master sergeant, as Head Bagger.
Bathsheba loathed Judas when they were equals. When Judas became Head Bagger, he told the female baggers, “My wife had her legs amputated below the knees because of sugar diabetes and can no longer perform her wifely functions.”
   Suddenly, Bathsheba became his best friend and initiated an intimate relationship.  The friendship was such that they made weekly simultaneous medical appointments.  They departed and returned in the same car. This gives depth to a new meaning of “Car Pooling.” It does not take a PhD in physics to know what was happening.
On April 30, 2006, Bathsheba discovered that Sergeant Happy tipped Jolande $20.00 for one bag of groceries.  She wanted this customer’s tips, but realized that as long as Jolande was there, it would never happen. Mr. Judas told Bathsheba to file a complaint against Jolande, and he would terminate her contract.  Therefore, Bathsheba made a telephone call to the Army Food Commodity Store Office at 9:30 pm on April 3, 2006. She left a message using an alias of Jules Stranger saying, “I don’t know her name but her number is 37 and she used language that should not be used in front of a dog. She should be fired”
The next day Mr. Judas went up to the office and listened to the message he knew would be there. He came back downstairs and told Jolande, “You are the best bagger I have, but you are fired.” It took Mr. Judas two weeks to compose the simple hand written termination letter dated April 27, 2006. Bathsheba told us that Mr. Judas worked on the termination notice for two weeks before he had a copy that was presentable. He wrote a statement, tore it up, and then repeated that routine several times daily for ten days. Then he presented Jolande a copy of the termination notice.
The day after termination Bathsheba called my home to update Jolande on the activities in the Army Food Commodity Store. She convinced us that she heard Ruth, another German bagger who Bathsheba did not like, bragging about making the phone call that got Jolande fired. Based on her information, I sued Ruth in the Lawrence Small Claims Court for character defamation and lost wages.  Bathsheba agreed to be a witness in the small claims court case against Ruth. Mr. Judas brought in the tape recording as proof positive that he had sufficient evidence to fire Jolande. On the day of the trial, the judge asked to hear the tape before hearing Bathsheba’s testimony. When Bathsheba heard her voice on the recording, she slumped into her seat and became lifeless. The crowd thought she had a stroke or heart attack. Bathsheba disorientation confused her and did not know where she was or why she was there.  My only witness failed to testify. I lost my case.  As we departed the courthouse parking lot, a prior head bagger identified the voice on the tape as being undeniably that of Bathsheba.
The week following the small claims court trial, Sergeant Happy shopped again in the Army Food Commodity Store and requested bagger Joel to bag his groceries. Bathsheba’s scheming had backfired on her. She became so angry because Sergeant Happy requested Joel that she had Mr. Judas and the Army Food Commodity Store office restrict Joel’s work schedule.  From that day forward, Mr. Judas restricted Joel from working between 7:00 - 10:00 am on the first three workdays of each month, Sergeant Harpy’s monthly scheduled shopping days.
After seeking help from thirteen federal and state agencies, I learned that military wives have no legal rights.  The head bagger terminated Jolande because of a fabricated SOP violation without a verifiable name, address, or contact telephone number.  Indiana’ employment-at-will status successfully triumphed over this minor inconvenient detail. 
Jolande and I have been friends since June 1960 and married since February 12, 1961. The pain of hearing her cry herself to sleep nightly was like the pain of a dagger plunged deep in my chest.  After each attempt for redress failed, I decided to have a one-on-one conversation with Bathsheba.  By April 30, 2006, Jolande had lost a considerable amount of tips and lived in a severely depressed state of mind.   She loved her job and missed the comradeship of her coworkers and customers. This job was therapy to help her overcome the loss of her daughter.  This was the only job other than homemaker that she had ever pursued.  Before marriage, we agreed that a mother’s primary duty was the proper raising of our children in a Christian home.
However, once the last child graduated from high school, Jolande signed a contract and began bagging in October 1988. All of my children's prior customers requested Jolande.  Prior customers of my daughter specifically,  Jolande Wratny-Womack, killed on March 14, 1997, not only requested Jolande, but frequently brought her gifts, boxes of candy, flowers, and prayer cards. Bathsheba was jealous because no one brought her gifts.
I decided to take action. I did my best to prepare myself for every possible outcome. A secret that has served me well in life is to play a mental game with myself where I imagine all possible outcomes of every anticipated adverse situation.  That way when the ultimate happened, my mind would automatically default to the best possible solution.  I knew how to respond because I had already played that tape and responded to that threat.  In my hypothetical situational mind games, I sought an amicable win-win solution for both parties. I thought I had played out every possible situation of how my confrontation with Bathsheba would go.
I was so wrong. 
On Sunday June 26, 2006 after the 11:00 a.m. Mass, Jolande and I shopped as we have done religiously each Sunday since April 19, 1978. I told Jolande to select the items we needed while I had a private conversation with Bathsheba.  I waited until we were alone, the mistake of my life, because I had the courtesy to not publicize her reputation and expose her dark side to unaware customers and co-workers. I was stupid for having neither witness nor a tape recorder.
Bathsheba has the unique distinction of being the one and only woman that I have ever touched in a confrontation. Mom taught me to protect women, not harm them. Bathsheba is also the first woman I have touched in anger. My last confrontation with Herodias in June of 1965 at Fort Lewis, Washington was without physical touching. I adopted a personal policy of non-violence. I believe that God created us equally in the image of Christ. The body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. To harm another is to harm Christ.
Not to mention the fact that I am a trained Army combat infantry soldier and a qualified expert rifleman. If I had intended to harm Bathsheba, she would be wearing a halo and I would be in the Federal Penitentiary.  If I had intended to harm her, I would certainly have worn casual clothes and carried a weapon. On the contrary, though, I was completely unarmed and wore a $300.00 two-piece suit and necktie. The only weapon I had was my tongue and intellect.
I structured my conversation thus: “Bathsheba, we both know the game you are playing. You need to get Jolande reinstated.  And you need to take a few days off or I will meet with your fourth husband and expose the games you are playing.” Before the Judas coalition, all baggers worked a set schedule. They were either day baggers or evening baggers. However, Judas allowed Bathsheba to work from open to close every day the Army Food Commodity Store was open. She is the only bagger so privileged since April 1978.
She responded, “Are you threatening me?”
 I replied, “No dear, I am simply telling you what I am going to do so there will be no confusion or surprises.”
At that, Bathsheba stuck two fingers up my nose and screamed, “You black assed M* F* “N” racial expletive!”
Her attack was like that of a cold, slimy venomous rattlesnake traveling up my nostrils; it was mental, verbal, and physical. Her cold fingers in my nostrils were a greater shock than any mental game I could have envisioned.  Her touch was worse than the spit from protesters in California when I returned from Vietnam.  There I was forewarned and anticipated being spat upon as I departed the airplane.  I never anticipated that Bathsheba would jam her cold her fingers up my nose.  Her action caught me totally off guard. I never dreamed that she would respond in the manner that she did.  Her attack thoroughly shocked me and my automatic reflex response was to grab her by the neck and push her away from me.
The moment I felt her cold, slimy fingers ripping their way up my nostrils, I wanted to snap her neck.  Army Infantry training taught me to do that. The anger and built up frustration with her and the total system failure to protect Jolande increased my frustration.
Instantaneously my mind replayed the last scene where dad hit mom over the head.  I instantaneously saw moms head full of blood. At that moment I remembered a promise I made to God that I would never harm a woman. That thought saved Bathsheba from my wrath. She had awakened my most debased animalistic urges that I have successfully suppressed since the ninth grade. This situation could have gotten ugly fast with my bare hands and my uncontrollable anger. She is the only person that I have touched since I broke Fred’s nose in High School in 1956.  With that thought, I immediately withdrew my hands from her neck and backed away.
I know how I respond to anger.  When my anger escalates to a certain point, I become so out-of-balance that I lose my sense of direction and reason as I did with Herodias in 1965 at Fort Lewis Washington.  To counteract this potential anger, I said a prayer for Bathsheba and walked away. 
I should have known better than to think that Bathsheba and I could have an open adult discussion.  I have always believed that reasonable people can talk.  I never in my wildest dream believed she would attack me.
However, she did, and I reacted.  In April 2002, I had both knees replaced with prosthetic (titanium) knees and I lose equilibrium easily when I am on uneven ground.  When I pushed Bathsheba away from me, the thrust of my push caused me to lose my balance.  We both fell.  She fell on top of my left shoulder.  Her weight tore my left rotator cuff.  Bathsheba screamed, “Call the police!”
Since my bullying days at St. Francis, I have pre-played and responded to every worst-case scenario I could imagine. By doing this, I programmed my mind to respond to the threat so that when it happened, I would know how to respond because that response in earlier days had been pre-programmed in my brain.  I had already responded to that threat and knew how to respond with dignity.
However, I never imagined that a woman would jam her fingers up my nostrils.  Since I had not programmed my mind for that threat, I responded with a normal human survival instinct, by getting her fingers out of my nose as quickly as possible. I behaved the way any other normal human would have behaved under the same circumstances.  I was unaware that in Indiana, it is a misdemeanor to touch a woman regardless of the circumstances, even though she touched me first! I paid dearly for my ignorance of Indiana law.
A woman jamming her fingers up my nostrils and calling me the racially charged M*F* “N” expletive was the one scenario that I never played so when it happened, I had no programmed behavior response to which I could default. I did the most logical thing any human would have done; extricate her fingers from my nose and her from my personal space.     
When I got up on my feet, I told the gathering crowd not to worry; I called 911 on my cellular phone and reported that Bathsheba had attacked me. The Lawrence Police were immediately on the scene.  I related that I had a conversation with Bathsheba and she attacked me. They took my statement then verified my statement with Bathsheba.  After that, the officer told me he had to drive me to the Marion County Lockup.  The officer then placed me in handcuffs, ordered me into the patrol car, and transported me to the Marion County Bread and Breakfast.
This was the first time in my life that I had been in a police car, and the second time that I had seen the inside of a jail.  At age thirteen in Yazoo City, I, an altar boy, visited a maximum-security cell with a priest to give the sacraments to a man held in maximum security. When the guards closed the metal doors behind us, the clanging sound of the metal doors sent a chill up my spine.  I promised God then that I would never do anything that would land me in that God-forsaken hole. The Lawrence police hauled me off to jail dressed in a $300.00 suit and necktie.

Thank you for your interest in my saga. I realize that all the statues of limitations have expired. I am not expecting any redress. I simply want to get the message out of how blatant discrimination continues without punishment...for whites... You see, a woman destroyed a good solid Catholic marriage of 46 years because she was jealous. She insulted me and verbally hurdled words at me that cannot be spoken over the airwaves today, she got promoted and I was jailed for extracting her cold nasty fingers from my nostrils. In today’s sexual exposures, men lives and jobs are destroyed over allegations that happen decades ago. What happened to our constitutional right of being innocent until proven guilty?

How does one respond to this type of situation. We've seen it in the Justice System - See Justice in the Round  by Harold Michael Harvey - regarding the number of Black individual being shot in police actions. Then we saw a threat to fire Black athletes who protested again this injustice... Then we've seen the allegations of sexual harassment, some of who have spoken out... What has happened that we can no longer trust that the accused will be heard before judgment? There is a real problem, and it continues in stories that don't reach the news, except, maybe, in a blog like Book Readers Heaven - when I read books, the impact stays with me for a long time...

Here's what James sent me recently practically yelling, "Yes, I am NOW angry!"

Several days ago, I posted the following message on FB but I think they deleted it within hours of the posting.  This definition came up in my daily scriptural readings and it defines the very fiber of which Jolande was created.  Her godparents that raised her gave her a solid Christian foundation that would make her successful in whatever profession she chased  Her choice was marriage to me a total stranger of a different culture and language. When we met, she only knew two word of English:"Yes and No" 
Beginning the day, I announced my engagement to Jolande, multitudes of men and women have challenged me with the question, “What did you see in her?”  I am sure I never fully answered the question with the true feeling that was in my heart because of my spiritual immaturity.  Today, I found the most elegant definition of the worthy wife in Proverbs.  Jolande is the idyllic definition and personification of the Worthy Wife:“When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls. Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize. She brings him good, and not evil, all the days of her life. She obtains wool and flax and works with loving hands. She puts her hands to the distaff, and her fingers ply the spindle. She reaches out her hands to the poor, and extends her arms to the needy. Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting, the woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Give her a reward for her labors, and let her works praise her at the city gates”.  I Proverbs 31:10-13,19-20,30-31 Since our wedding, each Christmas day, every resident living on our street, regardless of where we lived in Germany or the various states in the USA:  New York, Maryland, Fort Lewis Washington and Fort Benjamin Harrison, IN,  received a plate of Jolande's fresh baked cookies and goodies. She knew no enemies.  It's ironic that her goodness and love of everyone became her Achilles hill.  But is not that what happened to Christ?

It is said that we must forgive seven times seventy. I wonder, because when I heard from James, I grew just as angry as I had when I first read his book... So I asked if I could share what has happened...  

Hi Glenda,

The answer is emphatically YES. I sent a copy of basically the same letter and a copy of my book to president Trump two days ago. Men have no protection in the state of Indiana.  I have a female IMPD (Indiana Metropolitan Police Department) officer who informed me that in Indiana all a woman has to do is call 911 and report that a man threatens her by his physical presence and the police will lock him up.  The women's progressive movement has removed the right of a faithfully married man to protect his wife if she is attacked by a jealous hater. These feminist are destroying good marriages and good men across America.  I pray for this nation daily.  Thank you for being a loyal friend. 

I wish you and your family a Blessed Christmas with all the Peace, Joy and Happiness that goes with this Holy Season.  This will be my third Christmas without my beautiful wife.  February 12 will be our 57 year wedding anniversary.  The 10 days I was in jail, my wife neither ate or drank anything, lost 44 pounds and almost died.  She has not been the same since then.  She had to be assigned to a secured nursing home on October 7, 2014 for her own protection.  She wanted to take revenge against her co-worker but because of the one year protection order (No Contact) by the judge, if she had done anything to her co-worker, I would have ended up back in jail.  I told her that unless she wanted to see me back in jail, she needed to forget what happened.  She worked so hard at forgetting the incident to protect me that she forgot everything.  She has no memory of anything today.  The victim of this incident was my beautiful faithful WIFE. I see her daily but she's incapable of talking to me.  According to her Doctor, the only thing that is wrong with her is total memory loss.  It breaks my heart to see her in this condition. 

I sing to her daily and she will reach over and hold my hand but she can't talk to me.  The ten days of starvation destroyed her ability to communicate.   

I am now also struggling with high blood pressure.  It took the VA from June 1980 until July 2017 to discover that my top blood pressure number ranges between 160 and 180.  I have researched every heart institution in America and no physician can tell me what is a normal blood pressure reading for a person with an Ischemic heart (Exposure to Agent Orange in 1965-1966).  Since June 1980, I have buried three of my four children, nursed my beautiful wife through lymphoma cancer, knowing the ten day starvation destroyed her memory and ability to communicate.

You have my permission to include any part of this note to the original email I sent you. 

James Womack
     

Subject: I am finally boiling over with anger

Hi Glenda,

The subject may be confusing because it is the same letter I sent to conservative talk show "Chicks of the Right."

I remember you asked me years ago, after reading my book, where is the anger?  I told you it was a learned response.  Daily when I visit my beautiful wife and realize that she doesn’t recognize me, my eyes swell and my heart is full of loneliness when I realize that this will be my third Christmas without her.  I miss her so much that I can't express it in words.  She was the best thing that happened to me.  

Her condition was created by a very unhappy four-times married prejudiced white female hater.  It breaks my heart to see some men's lives destroyed as mine because of an allegation made that alleges that something happened years ago, and in some cases the women accepted payments or special favors and now they cry wolf.  I wrote to 14 state and federal social justice organizations that were put in place to ensure the elimination of discrimination and equality of treatment.  Now we see these very organizations are ineffective and not concerned unless you're a woman, gay or trans-gender.  They're only effective in destroying men in the wrong political party or that have the wrong Christian morality. 

I sent the attached letter to President Trump today.  After 10 years, the Indiana Parole board denied the removal of the misdemeanor from my records.  I am 77 years old and the only crime I have committed in my life is loving a wonderful German woman and tearing away a white woman's fingers from my nostrils when she attacked and insulted me.  I don't even have a speeding ticket.  I have lived an honorable life according to the Ten Commandments and treated everyone the way I wanted to be treated. 

However the real victim, not counting my 56 year of a solid catholic marriage, is my beautiful wife.  She is a good woman but this prejudice hater changed her life forever.  I sent the same letter to an afternoon talk show where I was muted twice for trying to explain what happened to me.  It is so mean and ugly, it cannot be discussed on the airways in America today. Radio host and other citizens who have used the "Nigger" expression have been removed and/or fired.  My attacker got a promotion!   This is what the socialist and political organizations are doing to good men in this country.  It is time for it to STOP.  In America, you are innocent until proven guilty unless some woman makes an unproven or unprovable allegation against you.  Then you are automatically guilty!

Last week I listened to a young man on a local radio show.  His brother is 26 and went into a nightclub in Indianapolis where he met this beautiful well endowed young lady with whom he became intimate.  Citizens under the age of 21 are not allowed into night clubs.  She entered with fake ID.  When he didn't do what she wanted, she turned him in for rape.  He got a 10 year jail sentence and put on the sexual offender list for life.  The security and the nightclub should have been sued for allowing her to enter. How was he to know that she was only a well endowed 14 year old. However, that doesn't count because she is a vulnerable female and was taken advantage of.  I have had all that I can take. 

The anger you failed to see in my book has been awaken.  It has been growing for about 64 years but has become full bloom, and it scares me.  I have to find a way to overcome the loneliness and disappointment in the justice system of this nation that I gave the best 21 years of my life to protect.  I go to Mass daily and offer up my loneliness, tears and disappointments with the blood of Christ on the Cross but that doesn't give me the peace I seek.  Pray for me.  I have to find a way to overcome the anger and frustration I carry now in my heart. 

Your friend,

James Womack

Author:  "Black Dad-White Dad"

Can we realize what is happening to each individual that is being attacked within our own country...Lies are being thrown out and nobody is sure what the true story is... But, when you come across an individual who is tried because of a lenient law that supports any woman...That is Just as Wrong as Allowing the Guilty to Go Free... America, hear one man's story of his side of what happened years ago...The White Woman made false accusations...and got promoted because of her relationship with her boss! I support BOTH men and women when they are confronted with false allegations... Open your eyes, ears and mouth... Pay attention to the words accompanied only by music...

James, my friend, I found two of the songs, He Touched me and Through it All, that have kept me going through the years... I believe God can speak through the words that are there for us to hear...May you fill your loneliness with songs from Him...

James, I thought of this old song when you spoke of

Jolande placing her hand over yours...

Jolande, there is indeed grace and power

in both the hands of James and God who was with

you both during your marriage...

James, hold her hand and continue to sing...

And let His words fill your sadness and loneliness...

~~~

The anger will pass; your love is stronger 

And God's love is with you both...even through anger...

How does Today's Jury System Compare to that in the Book/Movie "To Kill A Mockingbird"? A Little Prep for This Week's Spotlight on Harold Michael Harvey!

With a bit of serendipity as I was flipping through channels yesterday, I saw that the movie, To Kill a Mockingbird, was just about to start... What a startling incident to happen as we are about to set off on a week's exploration of Justice in the Round: Essays on the American Jury System...

The book, written by Harper Lee,

Harper Lee's Pulitzer prize-winning masterwork of honor and injustice in the deep south—and the heroism of one man in the face of blind and violent hatred. One of the best-loved stories of all time, To Kill a Mockingbird has been translated into more than forty languages, sold more than thirty million copies worldwide, served as the basis for an enormously popular motion picture, and was voted one of the best novels of the twentieth century by librarians across the country. A gripping, heart-wrenching, and wholly remarkable tale of coming-of-age in a South poisoned by virulent prejudice, it views a world of great beauty and savage inequities through the eyes of a young girl, as her father-a crusading local lawyer-risks everything to defend a black man unjustly accused of a terrible crime.

has become a classic...

Just wondering...are you a Harper Lee type of person...or, like those, who made up the jury in this book??? Are you willing to consider your place in the race relations issues in America? Join in the discussion! 

I've picked three videos to share or remind you of this story. The final words of the closing argument...

The Trailer

Or Watch the whole movie and see a wonderful, yet tragic story~

Excerpts of Justice in the Round begin tomorrow... Please feel free to add questions of the author as a comment...Actual discussion will appear Thursday and I'll try my best to get any questions answered before then...

See you tomorrow!

How the Water Falls by K. P. Kollenborn Takes Us Deep Into Lives Affected by Apartheid...

I am privileged to have had the opportunity to read How the Water Falls by K. P. Kollenborn, who says:

Submitting to History Allows us to Remember. Although writing can help decipher history, it's our humanity which keeps all of us striving for an improved future...

May we share her vision...


See full article

Now Meet Your Main Characters! Don't you love it when you can see Faces!
http://howthewaterfalls.com/characters.htm

How The Water Falls

By K. P. Kollenborn

"Water is Life. Without the Flow of Water, There Only Can Be Death..."

When you see the people that are

involved....When you look into their

eyes, what do you see?

K. P. Kollenborn has given us

the opportunity to see those

eyes...How will you respond to these

eyes that dare you to

experience what they have felt...

The Internet is full of information about South Africa, Apartheid,  Mandela, and all those various opinions about the past, the future, the now... But, for me, nothing better brings the total picture

 for me to true understanding, is a novel based upon historical facts. This is a psychological thriller--it really couldn't have been anything else in my opinion. It is in creating characters to illustrate the "reality" of what is going on with the main characters that we truly begin to realize ...and empathize. 

Two strong women bring to you the separation issue of color... But in this case, the white female has great sympathy for those who are subjugated by the white population. Joanne is a reporter, while Lena is or was an activist, before she was banned. I don't want to say that her background story is typical, rather that it was entirely what we would have expected from the news...raped at an early age...etc... But when you actually meet Lena and see and hear her interact with others, that's when you will know the psychology of how she became the strong woman who helped to lead the way for others...

Perhaps I have come to expect that the two women would be strong of character and would take leading roles in this and other stories. In fact, I have a preference for that type of female character.

Interestingly, however, it was the main male character with whom I felt the most sympathy and empathy. Jared Borghost came from a family of military men and had himself participated in many battles...until he could no longer live with himself...

His family demanded he accept duty as his guiding light in all actions, as his older brother Hans did...

But Jared's conscience, his morality continuously led him from a mandated willingness to "do his duty" as his family and other white Afrikaners and Dutch ancestors did.

So that, in the end, he was totally alone, rejected by his family, because he was no longer willing to follow the duty assigned to him. It was interesting that later in the story, he was accused of having killed a man's son who was prepared to kill him... What had happened was that his orders to ensure no deaths of children and women was not followed. It was when he had to go try to stop the shooting that he was seen and assumed to be the murderer... How many times are people condemned for having been in the wrong place at the wrong time... But, isn't that one of the main problems when men are forced to fight for something in which they don't believe?

So it was not surprising that Jared, when Joanne asked to meet with him for his story, soon began to fall in love with her...or perhaps not in love at first, but merely was able to see that she was somebody who was willing to keep after his side of the stories that were being spread... For surely, we all need at least one friend who will listen to us, don't we?

On March 21, 1960, South African police officers opened fire on a crowd of black protesters who had surrounded a police station in Sharpeville, killing 69 people.

The Sharpeville protests began over South Africa’s pass laws, which required black South Africans to carry passbooks with them any time they traveled out of their designated home areas.

Rather than providing an excerpt from the book about the issue of passbooks, I've provided an actual result that made headlines in the NY Times... Imagine Jared, whose brother Hans has become Johannesburg's commissioner of police, as he watches scenes like the one above or others which are worse, or continuous... Jared had to face that he would never again really be a brother or a member of his family, if he opened his mouth to talk to Joanne for her newspaper...

Yet he did...

Yes, it is fiction, but readers who want to learn historically about our world's major issues, will find Kollenborn's novel a must-read. Explore each of the characters and find yourself in this book. Would you be a racist and choose sides, or would you be a White who vehemently opposed the white government leaders and police, or would you be a black child who grew up in his own country and hate what has happened to his love and freedom that was once there in his homeland? The key for me was that I could empathize with each. But in the end, I merely confirmed for myself that, I, too, would, if necessary, fight against my white family to do what was right!

Do you read fiction which also is a personal and rewarding learning experience? I'm finding that there are many writers out there that take time to research and create fiction that opens up historical books and newspapers or television news in a wholly different and exciting way. This book by K. P. Kollenborn moves deeply into the complex issues that surrounded Apartheid as well as the personal biases or prejudices that often turns out to be the bottomline reason for all wars.

Highly recommended not only as an exciting thriller, but as a wonderful illustration of this past and present world-wide issue.   And, thank you, K. P. Kollenborn for your outstanding effort to spotlight deceptions and lies in a manner needed to constantly strive to affect change.


GABixlerReviews

I am fortunate to have been trained by one the top ten writing teachers in the US, the late Leonard Bishop, and author of Dare to be a Great Writer. I owe my love of writing to him. How The Water Falls is my second novel. Although I’ve been writing since my childhood, I have a BA in history. I love studying history as much as wanting to evoke stories. I like to believe that after decades worth of introspection we have learned more wisely than something that happened yesterday, because what happened yesterday affects how we live today. Why South Africa? I live in the Midwest and grew-up in a medium size town where cultural diversity is a bit underdeveloped. My reason is simple: I don’t want to continue to live in a conical world. Consciousness does not develop and mature by existing in a frozen pond. That’s why I love history: To learn. To question. To redeem our humanity. Submitting to a moment in time allows us to remember, or to muse even, over our society’s past. Although writing can educate as well as entertain, yet what makes art incredibly amazing, to that of paintings, photographs, and music, it transposes emotion into another form of humanity, and therefore, it is our humanity which keeps all of us striving for an improved future. My husband and I once owned a music store, a pizza delivery business, and several internet businesses. I also have dabbled with real estate and am grateful I got the heck out right before the crash! Sadly, history tends to repeat itself in important ways. Currently my family continues to live outside of Kansas City and will always have roots tied to Kansas. Follow Blog:

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Be Very Careful of "Being Christian"

WATCH YOURSELF PAL^ BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY OR WRITE - NARA - 516058 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being Christian

By K. C. Boyd


I was asked to read  and review this book. I hesitated, given the book description and indicated that I would be looking at it closely. They decided to send it...

Whoever named this book did a great job in trying to solicit interest in "being Christian" simply by naming the main character Christian so that the writer was able to claim just about anything and still not be...liable...?

If you are a member of just about any minority or even majority related to religion, sexuality, race...you will be negatively discussed in this novel to prove a point that some people hate you.

Didn't we already know that?

I really tried to finish this book because I felt I needed to know how much garbage could be packed into one story...so I skimmed to the ending...Yikes!

Getting into the end chapters got to be too much for me, however. Let me be very clear, this Christian reviewer does NOT support War or anything in this book!

Using an abused boy from a low-income hateful family environment as a lead character of an individual who became an evangelist is so repugnant and discouraging...The problems that are occurring in the United States are at a crisis stage, especially with violence. Making light of it via dark humor, satire, or whatever this book is will do nothing to help reduce murder, human trafficking, child abuse, pedophilia et.al. What a waste of energy...

Except to get book sales from those who will claim this novel is revealing, timely...enlightening??? Come on!

This book slams everybody, nearly every religion, and every act of violence and hate and places it all on the shoulders of this young abused boy... Everything that has even been wrong, it seems, lays on those who are willingly following a certain type of religion. Do you really think those "individuals" could have that much power? (Only when they are "used" by those who do have power...)

Oh, if that were only true... because criminals and every other hating individual can point their fingers and use it to continue or expand what they are doing.

So that boy could represent what the author claims to have personally found through his own investigation and saw that it was leading the country in "mixing State and end-times Christianity."

IF you are a Christian, you already recognize that there have been individual failures for a number of Christian pastors in reality...as well as many other people who do not profess any religion...

IF you are a Christian, you also recognize that what goes on is not what Christ taught. When has it ever as it relates to hate, war...?

But what is worse, using every possible "sin" to place on one individual, with, I gather, the intent to have him representative of the stereotypical "Christian, right-wing, that is" can only be considered disgusting, as it would for any other "groups" that are named herein...

Or is it? I don't profess, as this author did, to conduct any type of personal research, but I am fairly well read, fairly intelligent...and old enough to have interacted with many individuals of different races, religions and sexual preferences for well over 35 years on a large university campus... And, believe me, nothing in this book has me "following blindly"...

This book COULD have been a significant work in pointing out those who embrace fanaticism, or put greed of power above all... I was hoping because many writers are using fiction these days to share their thoughts on how the world can be helped.

Instead, every bit of hate, violence, and crime has been tossed together...

Instead, every crime, situation or single examples of one man's failure has been merged into a satire of a family so extreme that it lacks any sense of being able to be read as a credible statement. I found nothing redeemable because it is not funny to me to point out prejudice, hate and malice, and illustratively show it as coming from one group of any type...

I am a Christian and I do not accept anything that is presented in this book as being representative of my beliefs.

I do not discriminate on the basis of race, color, sexuality, or...religion...

These are not words that will help "show the light" to liberals as some are saying. This is nothing but hate, malicious hate that in no way demonstrates God's love and guidance, whether you believe in God or not.

I do not normally read or review books that are discriminatory. But this one deserves speaking out against it, no matter how well written it may or may not be.

If you read it and disagree with me...feel free to comment and debate my review. I'd be happy to get specific! Yes, this review is based totally on personal opinion, which I always try NOT to do. It is the first book that I will say that this is purely personal opinion. I admit that. But then, this author obviously has come to certain personal opinions that...are...just...not...true...

And if they are, how did this book help, except by promulgating this type of slander? Your choice...but be very careful...


GABixlerReviews

Cry Out for Israel... Novel by Steven D. Greenberg Stunning!

Enfold Me’ takes place in a post-Israel Middle East.
The author worked with a professional
cartographer to create the above map,
which illustrates this fictitious geopolitical reality.

Enfold Me:
A Novel of Post-Israel


By Steven D. Greenberg


..Devastating..
...Stunning...
....Unforgettable....


"Israel is no more"...

"What? Impossible!"

I can imagine talking to Judith Stitzel or Enid Portnoy on the WVU campus...both professors and my friends. What could I say to them? I realize nothing--but I could hug them...and hold them as we cried...

So I would have also if I had met Daniel Blum, the main character. He, too, was an American, but he had relocated to Israel when he married. He was there during The Fall...

By the time you read this novel, and I hope that you do, you will not be able to tell whether the destruction you will read about was done by the earthquake, or by the military actions that immediately took place... by neighboring countries of what was once called...Israel...

Daniel Blum knew only that he could be thankful that his home still stood, even though there were no working utilities. Daniel was the type of guy that had puttered around at home and he had installed solar panels from which earlier he had even sold electricity he did not use. Now, he used it secretly, at odd times, so that they would not realize that he had access to his computer. He had finally gotten email back up to go out at least, so he spent time writing to his children and his wife who had gone to America until they could come back--if they ever could.

He had been on his own for about a year now, but was helping with the resistance, routinely providing reports after watching...

[Let me stop here a minute to share that I read the ebook version of this novel. Sometimes this makes it harder to fully  pick up on what is happening, since there is usually no blurb of the contents provided. And since you can not easily go back and find a certain part to better understand...So I will say that I had a little confusion when flashbacks started...I beg you to work to pick up what is somehow diluted when ebook formats limit effective, easy exploration of a novel.]

It was a familiar face, therefore, that appeared at Daniel's door one day. Nobody had knocked since before...The Fall...

George Farrah and Daniel Blum had been involved in a horrible event on the college campus where they both attended.George was a man of action, of controlling a situation. Daniel cared, but was not quite as prepared... During a race-related incident, a young girl had been killed. George had been involved in calming the situation but Daniel had also--George had accused Daniel of causing the death...

Now he was here, explaining to Daniel that he represented the group who would make all arrangements to get him to the United States. Daniel was having a hard time even trusting George, and certainly didn't want to travel with him!

Readers should be prepared to experience the devastation, the fear, the anger of war, especially when those who have invaded act brutal, having no limits in what they are willing to do. Even the gangs which had been active in Israel, now were leaders in acting freely and openly to rob and kill their former neighbors--all with the help of the Egyptian government representatives who had claimed they had come into the country to help... of course, expecting to be paid for their efforts.

Witness those who come to claim the materials brought by UN workers and must fight each other in order to keep from starving...

Now George wanted Daniel to come with him, through all the dangers of escaping without being killed or captured. But, Daniel kept questioning, not completely trusting anybody...

The stunning ending will show why...

This complex life story must be absorbed in toto. Daniel had experienced much early in his life that led to his eventual PTSD-like nightmares and other symptoms. Flashbacks to the harsh realities of dealing with white supremacists had never left him. When it extends beyond into something far worse, then is when you will finally come to know Daniel Blum. The psychological suspense is slow and prodding, so be prepared to meet Daniel on his terms, in his life, as he understood it...

An amazing story, if you dare read it...


GABixlerReviews

"The silence on Ibn Gabirol was broken by a convoy of white trucks bearing UN license plates, which snorted and lumbered down the street, kicking up elephantine clouds of dust despite their snail-like pace. A small but growing group of grey-clad figures was falling in behind the convoy, quietly yet with obvious intensity. Tightening the kerchief around my face and noting grimly that we all looked like bad caricatures of trail-hardened cowboys, I fell in step next to a thin man holding an even thinner child by the hand. I noticed that his clothes weren’t actually grey, but rather dust-covered. I also noticed the unhealed gash across the child’s face, the gauntness of his cheekbones, the haunted look in his eyes, and the plastic bags clutched in his free hand. He looked at me briefly with bovine serenity, and looked away.

“What’s the story with the trucks?” I asked the man with as much conviviality as the Poe-esque backdrop allowed. He didn’t answer, nor even turn to look in my direction. I tried again, adding an edge of gentleness to my voice, “Is this the food distribution? I just got into town.” Still the man was silent, his jaw set in grim determination, the boy beside him skipping to keep up with his long paces. We walked past the intersection with Jabotinsky Street, more figures joining the impromptu grey parade.

I turned to the other side and addressed the same question to a 30-something, stocky woman. She was wearing a formerly red shirt, jeans that may once have been blue, a motorcycle helmet, and what appeared to be ice hockey  goalie pads over her torso. She carried a baseball bat loosely in one hand, and a water jug in the other. A ragged daypack hung loosely from one broad shoulder. Her posture spoke of grim determination, and she answered me curtly, in a voice muffled by the full-face helmet, “New in town? Well, you’re headed to food and water distribution from our friends at the UN. Same time every day, same place. But if you were planning on getting any, you may be disappointed.”

She saw me stare at her regalia, and lowered her eyes as if embarrassed, or at least momentarily conscious of what she must look like to an outsider. Then she brushed her hands fruitlessly against the padding on her chest, trying unsuccessfully to clean off some of the white dust coating them. She offered me a calloused hand, which I took. Her grip was tight, warm but suspicious, pleading in its sincerity but wary. “Where are my manners? Welcome to the new White City,” she half-laughed, as the chalky dust from her hand stuck to mine. “Get it, white – like the dust?” I could hear the smile in her voice under the helmet, sincere yet transient. When she next spoke, it was in a tone that tacitly sought approval yet preemptively defied judgment. “I got three kids at home, OK? This,” she indicated the helmet, pads and bat, “is how I make sure they have something to eat and drink. Good luck to you.” She added a small burst of speed to her stride, and moved away from me...

~~~

About this author

Born in 1967, I am a professional writer and an Israeli. I am also a full-time cook, cleaner, chauffeur, and work-at-home Dad for three amazing young children, and the lucky husband of a loving and very supportive wife.

Born in Texas and raised in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I emigrated to Israel only months before the first Gulf War, following my graduation from Indiana University in 1990. In 1996, I was drafted into the Israel Defense Forces, where I served for 12 years as a Reserve Combat Medic. Since 2002, I’ve worked as an independent marketing writer, copywriter and consultant.