The Crazy Old White Man From The Hood - COM

2008-09-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER 2

The Navy

After high school I went into the Navy. I came home on leave and
Ben and I went to a club we used to go to. When we went there before
it was a jazz club with a good jazz band. Now it was a coffeehouse for
beatniks with folk music. Ben gave the owner some pictures he
painted and she was going to put them on the wall and if they sold she
was going to split the money with him. The pictures were gone and
she denied that she ever had them. The bass player from the old band
was there and he said she sold them.

Ben was drafted. He was a pacifist by nature. He got out of boot
camp with orders for Vietnam. He went home on leave and said
goodbye to his parents and friends and went to Seattle. From there he
went to Vancouver. He is still considered a fugitive by our
government. He has an art shop and is still an artist and a hippie. I
talked to him a few years ago but lost his number. I hope to locate him
and maybe he will write a book on his story. What he told me would
make a good book.

High school for me was a drag. I had poor grades and I knew I
wasn’t ready for college when I graduated so I joined the Navy to see
the world. The furthest I got out of the U.S. was Key West, Florida. (It
is closer to Cuba than it is to the Florida mainland.)

Boot camp was bad for me. I am not the kind who likes to take
orders from ignorant people. I got in trouble in boot camp twice. The
first time I had to start over. The second time I was honest about a drill
instructor. I was sent to “Mickey Mouse” where I spent two weeks
washing clothes and exercising.

When I got out of Mickey Mouse they screwed up and instead of
putting me back where I was or making me start over again the put
me where I would be if I did not go there. I skipped two weeks.

When I got out of boot camp I went to Electrician’s Mate School.
On weekends I would go to Chicago and people watch. I would sleep
in the mission, Greyhound Bus Depot, or if I had money the YMCA
($1.25 a night). I hung out in an arcade where I shot pool, a grill called
the Meet and Eat, the burlesque theater, and skid row.
I met George in the arcade. I was shooting pool. I was bad
too. Not
the good bad, I stunk. George just got out of Leavenworth. He was a
martial arts instructor in the Army. He was jumped by three guys and
killed them in the fight. He was convicted of second-degree murder.
George was having a hard time finding a job. Not many employers
hired ex-cons who were convicted of murder. He had a wife and three
kids to support. We teamed up to hustle pool on weekends. I was the
bad player and he was the almost as bad player. For my part I did not
have to sandbag. I was bad. In his case he had to play bad; in reality
he was one of the best I have seen.

I let him have my cut. I did not need it.

There was a hooker, Jane. Jane was seven months pregnant and
not working the streets in her trade. She was out there panhandling.
She became close to George and I. We would help her when we could.
We would meet in the Meet and Eat and she would eat with us. We
would buy food for her. I walked in one day and she was with a
couple of her friends from the street. I went up to her, yelled at her
(she was in on it), put my hand by her face, and slapped my hand
loudly. She screamed, acting like it really hurt. Everyone in the place
thought I smacked her hard.

I then walked out. No one said anything. No one really seemed to
care.

I had been out of boot camp for a couple of months. My hair was
fully grown back from boot camp.

I was in Chicago on my last weekend liberty before graduation
and I saw three boots (first boot camp liberty) getting ready to go after
two good-looking women. One looked in her mid-twenties and the other was thirty-four (she told me her age later). I was eighteen and the other guys were about eighteen.
I went up to the boots, as they were ready to make their move. They looked up to me because to them I was an old salt.

I said, “There are three of you and two women. Don’t you see that
you have a problem?”

They each agreed that there was a problem.

I was going to make the problem first. One of the girls was pretty
sexy and the other was pretty. The pretty one looked like the more
intelligent of the two. I decided I wanted the pretty one. I picked the
boot with the most sense to get the sexy one and the other two were
out.

I told the lucky boot that I had decided that I wanted the pretty one
and he could have the sexy one. There were two problems. First, he
had to get rid of his buddies. Second, he had to pay for all four of us.
We went to a movie and dinner and the girls asked us to go with
them to the pretty girl’s house. We went on the train to one of the
suburbs. The boot and I did not get lucky. We had a good time but no
sex. I liked the girl I was with but she figured I was too young for her.
The sexy one came back with us on the train. She told the boot that she
liked me and asked him to leave us alone.

I told her that I was going home on leave and then to Key West so
I would not be able to see her again. She asked for my address and
gave me hers. We kissed and that developed into letting or fingers do
the walking.

Two years later she sent me a letter saying that she was going to
visit a friend in Miami. She wanted to come and see me in Key West.
She would get a motel room and we could continue where we left off.
I told her that it would be fine with me, but it may be the last time we
would see each other. I was getting out of the Navy in less than a year
and I was not sure where I was going.

She said it was okay with her. She had thought about me and
wanted my body. Frankly, I wanted hers too.

After our night together she went back to Chicago.
I got a letter a week later and she said she loved me and she wanted
me to come to Chicago when I got out of the Navy. I wrote back and
said no.

She got upset and told me that if she could not have me, no one
could. She would find me wherever I went and she would get rid of
any woman I was with. This worried me. I sent her a nice letter letting
her know I was not scared and told her to leave me alone. I never
heard from her again.

In the Navy, some called me rackets. I would make money by
taking duty for the married men so they could be at home with their
wives. I had a deal with the storekeeper to short out the lights so he
could take a nap and I would come back when he was rested to fix the
lights. I got tools in payment.

One thing that helped me in the Navy was that I knew what I was
doing and my immediate superiors liked me. We had a captain for
part of the time who was an old mustang. (Old mustangs started at
the bottom and worked their way up the ladder.) The lights went out
in his quarters. I tried to trace the wires to a fuse box but I could not
find it. I found a place to wire it into but that was hot too and I could
not find the fuse box for it.

My division officer, who was fresh from officers’ candidate school,
was not too swift. He was bugging me as I was trying to rewire the
lead to the lights. I was working with live wires and I did not need the
pain in the derriere that he was causing. Luckily the Captain was
there and noticed the problem. He told the division officer that I knew
more than he ever would about my job and to leave me alone. He
wasn’t too happy but he left me alone and I got the job done.

I was transferred to the engine room, which was very hot. (It was
between 110 and 130 degrees.) My engine room was powering the
ship’s electricity. An engine went out and the power went out. I was
running back in forth between electrical panels trying to get the
power back. I had to adjust the speed of three engines so that they
were running at the same revolutions per minute.

The Captain got in my way and I ran over him. An officer tried to
stop me and the Captain stopped him and told him I was right. The
power was more important than him.

Halfway to New Orleans the propulsion motors and generators
went out. My job was to jury rig them so we could get to New Orleans.
Enough parts were shipped to New Orleans to repair them so we
could make the trip back to Key West. For the four days there I was
working on them for twelve hours a day.

I had to work in the bilges, which were full of oily water, and at
times the Captain would get in his coveralls and hand me tools. That
is one reason I am using a capital “C” for the word “captain.” He
deserves it.

Our next captain’s brain was not fully functional. When the
hurricanes came in, we had to go out. Our new captain was on the
submarines and never had the command of a large ship. We went to
sea to out run a hurricane. On the way back the captain went to the
wrong harbor. When he found the right harbor he was bringing the
ship into the harbor. The winds were still too high to come in, but he
came in anyway.

The wind was pushing us to a pier and a tugboat was trying to
keep us away from the pier. The wind won. We hit the pier. The ship
had a big hole in the side.

We were on our way to Fort Lauderdale and had some target
practice. There was a small ship that we were supposed to shoot at.
We shot at it and missed. The next morning the headline was that a
Russian trawler was fired on by one of our ships. Of course we denied
it.

The Australian frigate captains did not like to use the tugboats.
They also did not like to waste time. The frigate was supposed to tie
up between our bow and another pier. He had to parallel park his
frigate frontward with no room to spare. When he got into position he
called all ahead full starboard and all back full port. The props on both
sides went all ahead full.

It took a few hours and three tugs with steel cables to pull it off the
pier. You could see the steel cables stretching. We stayed low, ready
to hit the deck if one broke.

A French destroyer was coming in. They use guns to shoot the
lines to the pier. The monkey fist, which is a ball on the end of a
smaller line, is shot ashore and picked up to pull a bigger rope to tie
the ship to the pier. The first one went a little too far. It went through
the admiral’s window and landed on his desk. He was sitting at his
desk.

I have never seen an admiral move so fast. By the time the
gangplank was up he was on the French ship yelling at the captain.
The French were underway and in the middle of the harbor when
a French sailor came in a cab and jumped in the water. He swam out
to his ship and they threw a ladder down to him to climb aboard.
One thing I learned about the Aussies and the French: they could
drink. The French had wine on the ship with their meals. The Aussies
had rum. The Dutch had beer. We had homemade wine and what we
could smuggle on to the ship. I took a watermelon and cut a hole in it.
I then emptied a fifth of vodka in it. That is the only way I liked vodka.
(There is a Russian vodka liqueur that is good.)

We had a torpedo man who caught his wife with another man. He
decided he wanted to kill himself. He dropped a torpedo warhead
eight decks but it did not go off. He then lit a fire under a torpedo
warhead. He then started a torpedo’s motor and it shot across the
torpedo room floor and hit a bulkhead. None of his attempts worked.
He knew they wouldn’t, but he wanted out. He was given a psycho
discharge and sent to a VA hospital for treatment.

While I was in Key West I had a motorcycle and belonged to the
Key West Angels MC. We were a club with mostly servicemen and
women stationed in Key West. Martha, who weighed about three
hundred pounds, was the only civilian member. Her old man was a
shrimper.

I had an accident in Miami and my bike was at a gas station there
while I recovered from my injuries. Martha said she would take me to
Miami to get my bike. She had a Honda 305. That was the biggest
Honda at the time. I sat on the back. She was wide so my legs were not
in a comfortable position. I do not think the bike was too happy about
the five-hundred-pound load. It seemed to be a little on the slow side.
When we got back, we went to a bar where her old man and other
shrimpers went. He came in and said something to her that she did
not like. She hit him so hard that he went flying out of the bar. (The
doors were swinging bar doors.)

He got up and came back in. He said something again and ended
up flying out of the bar again.

The third time was a charm. They kissed and made up. I saw a
picture of her before she gained the weight. She was Miss Key West
in the picture.

Just before you get out of the Navy, they have the shipping over
officer try to convince you to re-enlist. Soon after, the captain came up
to me and chewed me out for convincing his shipping-over officer to
get out. He got out before I did.

The Navy is great for some people. I think every high school
graduate should go into the military or an alternative service like the
Peace Corps for two years before going to college or entering the
workforce. This way they will be more sure of what they want to do
and they will be more mature to continue with their lives. College
will be easier for them because of the added maturity.

I spent three years, fifteen days, and eight hours in the Navy.
When I got out, Vietnam was getting bad. I volunteered but failed the
physical.

2008-09-19T19:05:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER 1

The Early Years

I am starting here because the earlier years were not too exciting.
I remember listening to radio before we got a TV. The old radio shows
with their sound effects that let you visualize in your mind what was
happening in the stories. I remember my father’s 1949 Buick and
when you were stuck in the snow, you could push a button and
cinders would cover the snow behind the tires.

My father always bought the cheapest house in the most
expensive neighborhoods. I lived in wealthy neighborhoods. I went
to parties at mansions and country clubs. Many of my friends had
swimming pools in their backyards. I was hob-knobbing with the rich
kids whose fathers were, in some cases, famous.

In the mid ’50s I lived in Atlanta, Georgia, for two years (eleven to
thirteen years old). It changed my life in a way that I really did not
notice until about twenty-five years later.

At that time Atlanta was segregated. I call it apartheid. Water
fountains were brown and white as were the bathroom doors. I had to
ride in the front of the bus. The blacks I saw were maids, dishwashers,
elevator operators, bus boys, porters, laborers, and other low-paying
jobs, or were on a chain gang.

Blacks could not eat in white restaurants unless it was in the
kitchen. Even churches were segregated.

My father’s office was at a truck yard and warehouse for a big
nationwide trucking company. He ran their truck leasing operation.
On Saturdays I would go with him to work. I found myself talking to
the guys that would load and unload the trucks. They were all black.
The restrooms had brown and white doors. The brown doors were
for blacks and white doors were for whites. I had to go so I headed for
the restroom. The closest men’s room had a brown door and I was in
a hurry.

A black man said, “Mister Lee, go to the white restroom. The white
man might kick your ass if he catches you.”

I said, “That’s too far. I’ve got to go now.” Luckily a white man did
not see me.

I was on a bus. The bus was full and I was on the line between black
and white. An old black lady got on and was standing by me. Since
my seat was on the border I figured I would give it to her.

She said, “No, sir, please stay seated.”

The old redneck next to me said, “If you get up, I will kick your
ass.”

What really made me mad was that I preferred the back of the bus.
I lived just outside of the city limits. One day some white men with
shotguns and black men in stripes and shackles were walking down
the street picking up trash, patching holes, and cutting the weeds on
the city property. It’s funny that all of the white guys looked like fat
rednecks chewing tobacco and spitting on the street with brown
uniforms and shotguns.

I walked up to the closest guy with a shotgun and asked, “What
did these guys do to get on a chain gang?”

He answered, “A lot of crimes including armed robbery and
murder.”

I went back to my yard.

My best friend lived with his family at the stables behind my
house. They were the caretakers for the judge who owned the stables.
They were black and lived in a one-room stone house with dirt floors,
no electricity or running water. There was a potbelly stove in the
middle of the room for heat and cooking, an ice box for refrigeration,
and some crops, chickens, cows, and pigs for food. He was a couple of
years older than me (about fifteen). He did not go to school.

I asked his mother, “Can Billy come to my house and play?”

She said, “No, Mister Lee. He can’t go to your house.”

I said, “My parents said it’s okay with them.”

“Mister Lee, the white folks around you would turn against you
and your family. Best not let any of them know that you even come
here. The judge asked about you and I thought I was going to have to
send you home but the judge said it was all right and not to worry.”
He had a bull calf. One day Billy said, “You want to ride the little
bull?”

“Sounds like fun to me, Billy. Let’s do it.”

We put the two-by-four boards across both openings to the barn
and took the calf into the middle. I got on and it took off for the one
end. We figured it would turn around at the end, but it went through
the bottom boards and the top board, hitting my gut, stopped me.
Billy called out to me, “You okay, Lee? Just lay there a minute and
we’ll see how you are.”

I was out of breath and had no choice but to lay there for a while.
I was okay.

I looked at Billy and said, “Your turn, Billy.”

The calf didn’t go far and we brought him back. This time we went
to the corral that had more room and we rode him there. There were
no more injuries except a few bruises.

We did have fun, though. We not only rode the bull calf (my
mother wasn’t happy about all of the bumps and bruises), but we
rode horses and pigs too. I was always bringing home rabbits, birds,
snakes, lizards, and turtles.

One day I was watching TV playing with a three-foot green snake
that I had. The kid next door came by and asked me to come out and
play. I forgot about the snake that was in a large planter on the table
and went out.

My mother came in the room and saw the snake on the table. She
picked it up and took it into my room and put it in its cage. After
coming out of my room, she realized what she did and screamed.
Where I lived we had woods and ponds. We built forts, rafts, and
dams. We would swim in the ponds and there was a pool within
walking distance from the house. I had a soap box derby racer and I
could go miles with it because of all of the hills. A cop pulled me over
one time for speeding.

I had a friend whose bedroom had a glass wall that opened to a
balcony. You could see the Chattahoochee River about five hundred
feet below. We would go down and wade into the river. We would
find Civil War artifacts in the woods. I found a Civil War bayonet, but
it was lost in the move back to St. Louis. You could see Atlanta in the
distance. It looked like a castle on a hill.

Atlanta was a beautiful city, but the bigotry made it ugly.

I had a lot of fun, but I saw how my race could be so stupid as to
think they are the human race and the blacks were inferior animals.
When I left Atlanta we went back to St. Louis where I spent most
of my childhood. I went into high school and found that I preferred
being with blacks. High school was one-third black. I did not date
much because I was attracted to the black girls and I could not date
them. The black guys became my friends in school but we could not
mix outside of school. I had some white friends that lived near me.
When I was in high school the teachers would always tell my
parents that I was so nice and so good. I never got caught. I wasn’t
really bad but I wasn’t an angel either.

When my mother worked, I would skip school and have poker
parties at the house. I wouldn’t play but I would collect a fourth of the
pot. I sold cinnamon-flavored toothpicks, candy, and other things.
One time I made a box filled with two wires, rolled up. Each side
had two connectors. I told the guy to run an antenna wire from the TV
to the box, then hook the antenna to the other side. I told him TV
reception would be a lot better and he paid me ten dollars for it. The
next day he said it worked great.

My best friend was Ben. He was an artist. His work was 1930s cars
and small towns. He also had a collection of old car parts that he used
for his works of art. (I talked to him a few years ago and now he is an
artist and hippie in Vancouver.)

Jim lived two doors down. He used to live next door to my dad’s
partner whose son Bob was my age. When I went over to Bob’s house,
Ben, who lived near Jim and Bob, would come over and we had a lot
of fun causing hate and discontent.

One night Jim said, “The man on the corner with the tennis court
won’t let us cut through his yard to get to Jerry’s house.”

I said, “We can’t let him get away with that. What if someone
waxed his tennis court?” We went out and got a bunch of cheap

candles. At two in the morning we went to his tennis court and
rubbed the candles all over the court.

Seven years later I was in another state working in the print shop
at the college I went to. The new president came in. I heard he lived
near where I used to live.

I said, “I think I used to live near you. I lived in Warson Woods.”
He said, “I lived in Kirkwood. Here is my house.” I looked at it and
the tennis court beside it and realized that he was the one we waxed.
Small world, isn’t it?

Bob moved out of town. Jim moved two doors down the street
from me.

Ben had a 1935 Ford four door and a 1949 Chevrolet. It was the first
hydromatic sold. The 1935 was in good shape; the 1949 was
multicolored and named “Halitosis.” On the rear it said “halitosis is
better than no breath at all.” Jim had a 1931 Ford sedan. I just had my
mother’s 1960 Falcon.

We went into a grocery store and went to the meat counter. Ben
and Jim got on their hands and knees and were slowly running their
hands on the floor and looking closely at the floor. I went to the meat
counter and started throwing the meat around.

The manager came running up to me and asked, “What do you
think you guys are doing?!”

I looked at him and said, “I am sorry about the confusion, sir. My
friend lost his contact lens.”

“Oh,” said the manager, “what can I do to help?”

I answered, “Keep everyone away from this area. We need
brooms. My two friends and I will watch as your stock boys slowly
and lightly sweep the floor. I didn’t find them up here so I am sure it
is on the floor. Step very carefully. I will get on my hands and knees
and make sure you do not step on it.”

So he got the brooms and stock boys. Others kept the customers
from going through.

A crowd gathered. People asked, “What are they looking for?”
“A contact lens,” one answered.

Another said, “What is a contact lens?”

“It’s a lens that goes in the eye instead of in glasses.”

“Doesn’t it irritate the eye?”

“No, they put a liquid in the eye to keep it from irritating it.”

Finally, Jim said, “I found it!” He acted like he picked it up and put
it in his eye. He even got a tear to come out of his eye.
I thanked the manager and everyone else for their help and we left.
The meat counter was a mess and the floor was full of piles of dirt. The
people were standing there still trying to figure out what happened.
We got outside and started laughing. We laughed so hard that it
hurt.

From the fifth grade through the ninth grade I was always the
biggest guy in school.

In the fifth and sixth grade I played YMCA football. I played
tackle. On defense I went for the quarterback and he rarely had time
to pass. On offense I cleared a hole for the runner, held step back and
block for a pass or trade with the fullback to gain three yards. Once
they knew I was coming I could only make two yards. Whenever it
was fourth and two or less, or if we had two yards for a touchdown,
I would be fullback. Sometimes to surprise the other team I would go
around end.

My sophomore year ended my dynasty. Jack came to my school.
He weighed 350 pounds and was not fat. You could hit him in the gut
and he would not flinch. Your hand would hurt and he would laugh
at you. I weighed 250 pounds.

In football practice he would be against me because I was the
closest to him in weight. In tackling practice he would pick me up and
throw me down like I was nothing. In blocking practice he would hit
me and knock me up in the air and on my back. Luckily I got a bad case
of blood poisoning and was out too long to stay on the team.

Jack was second in the nation for AAU wrestling, so I did not go
out for wrestling because I would have to go against him in practice.
I played sandlot football. We played with few rules. Tackle and no
equipment. We sometimes had a bigger crowd than the high school.

There was no adult supervision, so we had no problem with parents
pushing the kids or crying when the kid got hurt. One of the high
school players tried to play but broke his leg. After that the coach said
he would throw any player off the team if they played with us.

When I turned sixteen, Jack and I were good friends. We would go
to a drive-in restaurant and find a car with four or five in guys in it
and piss them off. They would chase us and we would get tired of the
chase and pull off the road. They would pull up behind us and we

would get out and start toward their car. They would take off.
Jack bought a stick-shift car. Never drove one before. I showed
him how to drive it and we were on our way. He came to a stoplight
and when it turned green he stalled. The guy behind us started
blowing his horn, which made it worse. Jack got out of the car and
went back to the car behind us. Before the guy could raise the window
Jack had his keys and threw them in a lake next to the road. He came
back to the car and drove off with no problem. Never had a problem
again.
Another time the guy behind us had his bright lights on us. He
flashed back with the rearview mirror and that did not work. We
came to a red light and Jack got out with a hammer, went to the car,
knocked out his headlights, came back to the car and drove off. He
was a nice guy, but you didn’t want to piss him off.

John was six feet seven, weighed 450 pounds, and wore a size
twenty-four EEE shoe. His parents had a 1953 Packard limo and a
Checker (all model years looked the same so I do not know what year
it was). Those are the only cars he could get in the back seat. He did
not play in sports because he had a bad heart. He spent most of his
time at home.

I visited John often and sometimes his mother would pick me up
when I hitchhiked home from school. The three of us could have had
a lot of fun if John could have joined us. He would not be able to get
into our cars. He did not drive.

When Jack and I would get stuck in the snow, the one that was not
driving would sit on the trunk and the other would drive out.

I had a friend, Barry, from third and fourth grade that I hadn’t seen
since then. I went by his house and he was there. We were both happy
to see each other. He had a 1936 Packard hearse. It had a casket carrier
in it that he used for a cooler for parties. The top looked like the top of
a casket. We came to a light and a guy jumped out of the back. I
jumped out with a starter pistol and shot him. He fell and the driver
and I threw him back into the casket and drove off.

As we looked back no one moved.

I talked to Barry and later Ben and Jim about getting old cars and
staging a 1930s mafia hit downtown. We decided that we might get in
too much trouble for it. It would also be easy for the cops to catch the
old cars. So we decided not to go through with it.

I love amusement parks and carnivals. The roller coaster is my
favorite. Second is the scrambler. When I was in high school I worked
for a carnival setting up, running, and tearing down rides.

After the last ride the workers would get on the scrambler. (Three
long arms off the center, three arms off the end of the long arms and
the tubs with three seats on the end of those. You went in a triangle.)
The governor would be taken off so that the ride would go twice as
fast. One person on the ride would grab a hat from someone in the
crowd and we would play pass the hat.

I would set up, run, and tear down the rides. The Catholic Church
fairs were the best. I could send a kid to the beer concession and they
would give him a beer for me. Many times we would have a large
cooler with beer in the middle of the merry-go-round. We would hop
on when it was running and get a beer.

When running a ride, girls would ask for free rides. I would
always say, “A ride for a ride.” They usually said no.

The worst part about working as a roustabout was when the kids
lost their lunch in the ride. I ran one ride and I would jump on when
it started and jump off when it was time to stop it.

I got on one time and a kid next to me said, “Aren’t you the guy
running this ride?”

I said, “Yes.”

He threw up on me.

One time when we were tearing down, I was on the center pole for
the merry-go-round. It was on a hill and the truck was back up to it.
I was on a gear near the top and I was taking a big gear off. I had to pull
it up around my body and the pole. As I was trying to get it into the
truck, it got stuck between the top of the truck and the pole and
pinned me to the pole.

The truck was going to pull up enough for me to get the gear in.
Before it went forward it rolled back and the pole started to tip. I
could feel that it was ready to fall with me between it and the ground.
The truck went forward just in time. Needless to say I did not do that
job anymore.

Being a roustabout is fun, but it can be hard and dangerous work.

2008-09-19T19:02:00.000-07:00

THis blog is going to include excerpts from The Crazy Old White Man From The Hood.

2001-06-25T14:57:00.000-07:00

Hi, I am Eazy Lee, a/k/a The Crazy Old White Man From The Hood.

Please check out my home page for the wisdom I have obtained in 56 years of life. Most of the information is from the last 10 years.
It comes from my experiences in life. In the near future I will add things to this site. Things that may help you.

If you have a addiction to drugs or alcohol read what I say on my home page. If you have a friend or relative with an addiction it may help you both. Everything in the site may help a lot of people. It may make a bigot think that maybe he is wrong. It may make an addict seek help. I have some businesses on the internet but I hope that the crazy old white man is heard and that his words help some people.

Please, click here and check out my site.

Thank you

Lee W. Gaylord