Promises I Must Keep

Jay Thomas Willis

Description

The author has written fifteen short stories that come straight from his cerebral-conscious and -subconscious mind. Each story contains approximately 2,500 words. These stories are easy reading, original, and guaranteed to entertain. They are congruent, sensible, and logical. They are fresh, entertaining, and creative; also succint, down to earth, and will force one to engage his or her imagination. The stories mimic some of the author's experiences, but are completely fictional, and in no way represent reality.

Sujets

• Promise (disambiguation)
• Keep
• Must
• Self-help
• Musth
• Promises

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 04 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669841456
• Langue: English

Extrait

PROMISES I MUST KEEP
 
Maintaining My Family’s Legacy
 
 
 
 
 
 
JAY THOMAS WILLIS
 
Copyright © 2022 by Jay Thomas Willis.
 
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022914497
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-4147-0

Softcover
978-1-6698-4146-3

eBook
978-1-6698-4145-6

 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
 
 
Rev. date: 08/04/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
845617
ALSO BY JAY THOMAS WILLIS
Nonfiction
A Penny for Your Thoughts: Insights, Perceptions, and Reflections on the African American Condition
Implications for Effective Psychotherapy with African Americans
Freeing the African-American’s Mind
God or Barbarian: The Myth of a Messiah Who Will Return to Liberate Us
Finding Your Own African-Centered Rhythm
When the Village Idiot Get Started
Nowhere to Run or Hide
Why Black Americans Behave as They Do: The Conditioning Process from Generation to Generation
God, or Balance in the Universe
Over the Celestial Wireless
Paranoid but not Stupid
Nothing but a Man
Things I Never Said
Word to the Wise
Born to be Destroyed: How My Upbringing Almost Destroyed Me
Nobody but You and Me: God and Our Existence in the Universe
Got My Own Song to Sing: Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome in My family
Random Thoughts on My Reality
A Word to My Son: A Celebration
Messed-Up Kid
Off-the-Top Treasures
Going with the Flow
Man’s Basic Purpose
God Told Me to Tell You
My Life and Times: Some Personal Essays
Life’s Lessons: Some Passing Thoughts
Why I Write: Notes Straight from the Hip
Just Jazzing: Thoughts from the Depth of My Soul
Fiction
No Worldly Options Except Suicide or Schizophrenia: But God Has His Own Plans
You Can’t Get There from Here
Where the Pig Trail Meets the Dirt Road
The Devil in Angelica
As Soon as the Weather Breaks
The Cotton is High
Hard Luck
Educated Misunderstanding
Dream On: Persistent Themes in My Dreams
Longing for Home and Other Short Stories
Poetry
Reflections on My Life: You’re Gonna Carry That Weight a Long Time
It’s a Good Day to Die: Some Personal Poetry About the Ups and Downs in My Life
CONTENTS
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Preface
1Ticket Trap and Earlier and Later Reminiscence
2The Worthwhile Sacrifice
3The Casino Visit
4Fighting for the Big-Time Supervisor’s Role
5Promises I Must Keep: Maintaining My Family’s Legacy
6A Graduation Surprise
7Searching for a Ghost: The Old Grey Mare Ain’t What She Used to Be
8A Dream Date for a Recluse
9Purebred and the Beast
10Prejudice and Bigoted, and a Follower of Jesus Christ: What Do You Believe In
11The Unexpected Bridegroom
12The Girl from Around-the-Way
13Brick House
14Some and Others say
15A Girl in the Neighborhood
About the Author
DEDICATION
To my father, Johnnie Willis and the rest of my family members.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to all my teachers, my family members, and the educational system, for teaching me more than I realized. Some of this teaching was due to omission and some by commission.
Thank God for giving me a fully capable and engaged imagination.
PREFACE
In these fifteen short stories the author writes about fictional aspects of his life in East Texas, in college, the military, on the Gulf Coast, and later in a South Suburb of Chicago. Each of these stories are approximately 2,500 words.
These stories come from the author’s own cerebral processes and are not imitations of stories found elsewhere in the literature. They are not what someone else told him but are completely raw products. Some of his experiences are represented in these stories, but they are completely fictionalized.
The stories are fresh, entertaining, and creative. They came from the recesses of his conscious and subconscious mind. The stories are succinct, down to earth, and will force one to engage the powers of his or her imagination. The stories are also congruent, sensible, and logical. The stories are fictional but are full of realistic possibilities.
The stories will get your cerebral fluids flowing. The author is happy to say that he enjoyed writing these stories, and you will enjoy reading them.
The author’s sister Erma Jean read several of his books. She suggested that he write about the way he would have wanted things to be, rather than writing about how things were. He didn’t think much about the suggestion at the time but later considered that it might be a good idea. So, some of these stories are about what the author would have wanted his situation to be. Some of these stories are just the opposite. Of course, some of them mimic conditions that he experienced.
Ideas for these stories simply came to him out-of-the-blue, but he framed them toward the perspective that he desired. He conceived them while going about his daily activities. They are great-family oriented stories. You won’t get such stories anywhere else.
The author is seventy-five-years old and have had many experiences. These stories are fictionalized accounts of his experience.
A great read for anyone interested in original stories combined with an African American male’s experience.
1 Ticket Trap and Earlier and Later Reminiscence

My wife and I had lived in a South Suburb of Chicago for almost fifty-five years. We moved to Matteson soon after I graduated from the University of Houston’s School of Social Work. I didn’t have close family in Houston or nearby. My family and I had never been close. So, I wanted to get away from the area. I wanted to get as far away from East Texas as I could possibly get. The heat, climate, nor family and social situation in general agreed with me.
I had been thinking about giving up driving for a few years, but it was always convenient to just get in the car and go where I wanted to go without being dependent on someone. I had a vague feeling that my perception was not clear: my sight was cloudy, my hearing wasn’t what it used to be, my judgment was hazy, and my reaction time wasn’t as good as I would like for it to have been. We had a nice four bedroom, two and a half bathroom, brick house in a pleasant area of Matteson called Butterfield Place. We bought the house soon after we moved to Chicago in 1976. We also had a 2027 Hyundai Genesis and a 2030 Jeep Wrangler. The area had some good schools and good shopping—part of what attracted us to the area. We generally liked the area. Otherwise, we probably would have gone to a retirement home. I had several successive experiences where everyone involved knew it was time for me to give up driving.
It was a cold, windy, icy night in October. I left the house headed to my usual destination: the casino.
Before I left my wife had told me, “Don’t go to that casino the weather is bad,” she looked stern and determined to keep me from going.
“I’ll be all right.” I said, determined to go.
“You will get enough of going to the casino late at night in bad weather.”
It was not only the weather to be concerned about, but we both had heard about people occasionally getting robbed at various casinos, not to mention the other vices that sometimes go on there.
There wasn’t much for me to do. Most of my friends had long since passed away. I couldn’t dance any more, and when I tried to dance my feet would swell as big as a melon. I was a little too old to hang out in clubs and drink. The only activity I could think to engage in was to go to the casino and go for rides in my car. Most of the time I reminisced about the old days while driving.
One day my wife said, “You’re going to get in trouble going to the casino late at night.”
My wife didn’t care for going to the casino. She saw it as a losing proposition. She didn’t care for losing money she had worked hard all her life to obtain. At one time she enjoyed going to the casino, but the slots seemed to get tighter and tighter. “ The house always wins,” she would say.
“It’s as safe as anywhere else,” I said.
“The freaks and roustabouts come out late at night. In addition, all you’re going to do is lose your money.”
“Such types are always out these days, and everything in life involves taking a chance. You can’t make progress unless you are willing to take a chance. In any case, it’s hard to tell a roustabout from an ordinary hard-working citizen.”
“One day you’re going to find out what I say is true.”
“You’re getting a little senile in your old age,” I said.
Realizing that both of us had already gotten senile, and we had earned that right to be senile.
“And so are you,” she said, “all I can say is take care if you must get out at ungodly hours of the night.”
“I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
I left the house anyway and pulled into the street with the car slipping and sliding on the black ice. But I had to somehow get to the casino. I’m afraid I had developed somewhat of an addiction. I drove for about five miles. I was on I-80 headed toward Joliet. The rain started pounding on the car, the wind was howling, and the streets were getting more s