Tribulations of my Life
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This a breathtaking emotional real-life story of a young poor African American child with native American genes, growing up in Virginia during the late ’50s, which was not an easy time for African American. His mother passed away when he was 5 years old. The story elaborates on the trials and tribulation he went through, trying to survive,
Howard Wallace
I am an Afro-American, with native Indian roots. My complexion is coffee-brown; I am 5 feet 7 inches tall, very sporty built. I graduated from high school in 1976. I was not one of the smartest of all, but my grades were good enough to ensure I graduated. When I graduated, I received the Citizenship of the Year award. The Citizenship of years was awarded only to individuals who committed their free time by doing community services. In high school, I was a member of different organizations such as the Alpha Beta Delta club, the 4-H Club, theatre, and the School Marching Band. In sports, I was twice district champion, three times regional champion and came in third place in the State Wrestling Championship. In 1982, I was initiated into the Masonry Lodge. In the 10th grade, I earned a scholarship for the Blacksmith Institute for Agriculture, but I didn't go. Instead, I joined the Arm forces. In 1980, I earned my BA in Photography. 1985 l worked as a Public Affairs Officer on the side of Mayor in Germany 1988 Worked as a Science Photographer for the Professor of the University Of Erlangen, Germany, and Institute for Human Genetics. 1999 l was involved in a tragic car accident, which left me paralyzes from the chest down. 2008-2016 l study Psychology at the University of Arizona, in which I was granted my Associate and Bachelor Degree. 2016 l have been inducted as a member of "Society for Collegiate Leadership & Achievement. Presently am employed by Siemens Cooperation, in Germany, in the Media Marketing section. In social affairs, I tend to wait for others to introduce themselves; when I am attracted to someone I prefer to be the one pursued. I am most comfortable by myself. In my relationships, I do not make most of the decisions, I believe in a 50/50 relationship. I love it when people speak to me and hate it when people talk badly about others behind their back.
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Tribulations of my Life - Howard Wallace
TRIBULATIONS OF MY LIFE
HOWARD WALLACE
Tribulations of my Life
Copyright © 2019 by Howard Wallace. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.
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Published in the United States of America
ISBN 978-1-64367-789-7 (Paperback)
ISBN 978-1-64367-788-0 (Digital)
22.08.19
Contents
Tribulation of my Life
Acknowledgments and Dedication
Introduction
1. About Me
2. The Beginning
3. It All Begin
4. Grandma
5. Uncle Herman
6. The Growing Years
7. My Relationships
8. An Ordeal
9. My stay in Germany
10. The Marriage
11. The Accident
12. The Disability
13. How Must I Live?
14. My Boys
15. My Soul was restored
16. The World Today
17. My Seal
My Closing Remarks
References
Tribulation of my Life
By Howard Wallace
Author
This a breath taking emotional real life story of a young poor African American child with native American genes, growing up in Virginia during the late 50’s, which was not an easy time for African American. His mother passed away when he was 5 years old. The story elaborates on the trials and tribulation he went through, trying to survive, on his own, after being separate from his family, ending up living with his ill grandmother. Trying to make his way in the world in a wheelchair the best as he can. You know in the trials and tribulations that life brings. How can I tell what was going through my mind as a child. The biggest tragedy happen in 1999, when he was involved in an traffic accident that left him paralyze from the chest down, with no movements in the upper and lower exstremist. Trying to survive with his disability in a foreign county.
Trials and Tribulations, imperfections in life have molded me for who I am. I came from a broken family but it has somehow molded me to become who I am today. It’s a fact I did not have a perfect
family & I have learnt to accept it after I was adopted by a preacher and his family.
"A journey you want to accomplish begins with one step which is one step forward. Then you keep repeating that step. If you come to an obstacle roll over it and continue on. It won’t be easy but later the journey will end and you’ll be where you want to be.
(Author: Jill Robinson )
Retrieved 11/5/2013 from-
http://www.scrapbook.com/quotes/doc/40237/367.html
Acknowledgments and Dedication
First, I want to thank you, the reader, for purchasing my very first book. Also, my family and friends, i.e. those that have had a great impact on my life. I would like to thank a number of people and some institutions for making this book possible, particularly my Fellowship supporters. I am forever obliged to God; he encouraged me when my spirit flagged, and never allowed me to doubt my own ability. I also benefited from comments and suggestions from friends and family members. I also want to thank certain individuals who cared and gave me the boost I needed. They asked me to include the fact that the Lord is healing you through our prayers. I must personally thank, Rev. Dan Alewine and his lovely wife, Colette. Who returned to the United States back in 2002. I miss their spiritual advice and teaching because, I know God sent them into my life when I had just about given up.
I also dedicate this book especially to my children, Howard Wallace Jr., Marcel Wallace, Jamie Markowitz, and my grandson Mike
. In the hope that one day they will never undergo the things that I did and that they will realise, the things about life that I always was preaching to them over and over again. I hope that all my real and trusted friends and all the people that know me and the way I am. For everyone who reads this book will see, that nothing in life is free, if you do not have faith in God. Remember, there is nothing more you can do to turn your children’s hearts closer to yours than by keeping a journal of your personal history. Ultimately, your children will know about your successes and failures.
It took me this long to see that the Lord had a mission for me. You have to give something in order to receive. He restored my soul and gave me a second chance. And I am taking advantage of that chance and doing his will.
I would also like to dedicate this book to my biological sister and brother wherever they may be today, Mary Little, Jane, Pricilla, Gary, and Edward Robert Walker Jr. (decease) Also to my adopted family, who rescued me: Mary Wallace, Joann Wallace, Willie Wallace and the Rev. Summerfield Wallace Jr.(Decease 2012) and, finally, to the most important person of all: she is now deceased but in my heart she is still alive; Mrs Wilhelmina Turpin Wallace, (was a real mother to me). Passed away July 2, 1996.
Introduction
Whenever I saw an old green pick-up truck pulling into grandma’s driveway, grandma, would send me out to play with my tricycle. This was a Christmas present given to me by a white man named Jake
I had to call him, Mr. Jake, who, I found out later he was dating my grandmother Sarah
. He would show up once or twice a week. I use to see him, secretly passing her money, before he left. My grandma, used to make me sit on his lap in which I hated, because he always wanted me to play with his testicle. He always wanted me to kiss him, and play with his tonque. What should I do? I guess I was around four or five years old back then. Today, I am a fifthy-three-year old African-American, whose life story, I believe, is worth telling. How did I get to live with my grandmother? Well first let me give you the definition of a parent: a father or mother; one who brings forth or one who gives birth to or nurtures and raises a child; a relative who plays the role of guardian.
My so-called parents could not bear living together anymore and inevitably we the innocent children became the victims of the situation. We lived in a small area back in the woods called "Over the Hill." Now, let me tell you a little about Over the Hill.
Well, as far as I can recollect, it was a great distance back in the woods in a small county called Chester County, Virginia, USA. We lived close to the railroad tracks, where trains were constantly coming and going.
There were around twelve houses, better known as ’shacks’. The population was around 50, predominant poor black people, mostly relatives. The main highway was made of red clay and when it rained it would be very muddy and slippery, and when it was dry, it was very dusty. However, we use to like to eat clay occasionally because it had a sweet and sour taste, and the older people said it is healthy and protects you from bacteria. Sometimes when it rained we would go out and make mud houses because it was very slippery. The only white people that would drive through were either the Sheriff, looking for some black person that has broken the law. During hunting season, the game warden that would come and check whether or not you had hunting or fishing permit.
The ambulance or Recue Squad would occasionally come through to pick up someone who was very ill or who had just been shot or died. Red Cross would come once a year to vaccinate all of the children and old folks. To go to school we had to pass through the predominately white neighborhood because, the bus would not pick us up in the area where we live. We were not allowed to walk on the main road; we had to take the path through the woods so that we would not be seen by anyone. The white people were sometimes nice to us, only if we did not step over their boundary. After Thanksgiving, or Christmas our parents who was working for them, would pick up the leftovers from the turkey or ham, and bring it home to us. Once in a while we received old clothing from their children, which they would otherwise have been thrown away. We were also not allowed to play with white children, and white kids were not allowed to go past our vicinity alone. I remember one time in the summer, a white boy rode pass on his bike and we all ran out of our shacks to see him. Back then, I did not know the meaning of prejudice but I remember that when we were