If I Change My Behaviors, Then I Can Change My Character

By Arthur Ashby

Author Arthur M. Ashby's life has been ripe with difficult lessons, critical medical challenges, a devilish long-term dance with drugs, and a powerful journey to God. "What I reached for in the earlier years of my life was an escape from anything synonymous with success because I feared responsibilities,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pecan Tree Publishing
• Release date: Sep 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737262169

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If I Change My Behaviors, Then I Can Change My Character

A Book About Second Chances Granted From God

Arthur M. Ashby

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, digital, photocopy, recording, or otherwise – without written permission of the author, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

Copyright © 2021 by Arthur M. Ashby

Published by Pecan Tree Publishing

Hollywood, FL 33020

www.pecantreebooks.com

Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are from The NIV (New International Version) Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-7372621-5-2 Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-7372621-6-9 EBook

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021917060

Interior Design by Charlyn Samson

Book Cover Design by Glenda Antonio

Cover Artwork by Arthur M. Ashby, Tony Nash, and Jamie Ashby

Pecan Tree Publishing

www.pecantreebooks.com

New Voices | New Styles | New Vision –

Creating a New Legacy of Dynamic Authors and Titles

Hollywood, FL

Dedications

I dedicate this book to my lovely and amazing wife, Cornelia Ashby Thank you for understanding me and being so patient with me. You have empowered my life so much.

In you I see a true God-fearing person who truly is reverent to Him, I also dedicate this book to my childhood friend Bishop Larry Jordan, who displays what a real friend is. Thank you, everyone else who have helped me along this journey. Thank you, all.

Acknowledgments

God is where all my acknowledgment goes. He deserves it all. Thank You, God. Whatever you have done in life, know that we serve a God who loves you, forgives you and always be there for you, if you let Him. Then we must adulate Him, be amazed by Him and be obedient to Him. The trade-off is that He can revive anyone’s life.

Contents

Dedications

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1: Coming Of Age

Chapter 2: Losing My Mother

Chapter 3: My Early Years As A Barber

Chapter 4: The Setbacks

Chapter 5: Fitting In

Chapter 6: The Search Continues

Chapter 7: Looking In The Mirror

Chapter 8: Thank You, Arthur Rico Rush

Chapter 9: Asking For Help

Chapter 10: Re-grouping

Chapter 11: Enter The Queen

Chapter 12: Finding Resolutions To My Problems

Chapter 13: Situations May Happen Yesterday, Today or Tomorrow, but I Still Must Follow God’s Word

Introduction

When a plant breaks ground, it has no say in where it will grow. It could be in a wide-open field or even a small crack in cemented rock. Any nourishment it finds in the growth cycle is often meager. Above the ground, it appears very weak and yearning for help. Desperately hanging on, it also displays the objective feature of an item that may be preparing to die. Just barely gripping onto the little life that it has. But as imperfect as the plant is looking, when it breaks ground, with someone caring about it and loving it with the proper nourishment, the plant comes back alive and thriving with its leaves glowing, showing that it appreciates that care.

My life began in this fashion. I have discovered in life that it is not how I started, but what I did to make my ending worthwhile that matters. I did that by making an end, lead to a new beginning. That beginning started with being committed to God. He took another chance on my life when He heard my cries through my soul, and not my mouth. Then He showed me what real commitment involves. God showed me no matter what I have done, He is always there. So, why can’t I be there for Him by trusting, praising, and being obedient to Him? No longer can I serve two, three, or more gods. I must serve and be totally obedient to Him. I thank God for giving me another chance to live. Not by my perception of survival, but through His life.

This is a story about what God will do if you let Him be God - fully. I had to go through hardships, anxiety, physical sufferings, and perplex situations. Then when I felt that I could not solve the problems that I gave myself, I called His Name. I found out what I could not, God could, and can. So, today, I stay reverent unto God.

SECTION I

When I Was Running From God

Chapter 1

Coming Of Age

I was born at Freedmen’s Hospital on March 18, 1950. This hospital was founded in 1862 in Washington, DC, being the first of its kind to aid in the medical treatment of former slaves. It eventually became the major hospital for the African American community in the area. It later became a teaching hospital for Howard University Medical School and changed its name to Howard University Hospital. It produced one of the most famous administrators, Charles R. Drew, M.D., a surgeon who is known worldwide for his blood plasma research. He was a medical professor at the Howard University Medical School and chairperson of the school’s Department of Surgery from 1941 to 1950. It is exciting to know that I was born in the same hospital that Charles R. Drew presided over.

I was born the last child of six to Mary Elizabeth and John Linton Ashby. My four brothers were Richard, John, Eric, and Allan in the order of their birth. But my sister, Alyce, who we call Mickey, was the oldest of us all. While we grew up as a family where inside the house, everyone thought that we were lovable toward one another, the reality was different. We were a group of personalities that resisted love to one another inside our house, but outside the house, were a powerful, unified force. We knew if you tangled with one of us, you had trouble from all of us, which was the code of the neighborhood.

I was an extremely sensitive kid, and I still am as an adult. We moved to the housing development (or the projects as they were known) of Douglas Dwellings when I was about five years old. Our home, at 1554 Alabama Avenue S.E., was right across from the rental office. Being the youngest of the children, I was a mama’s boy. I would be wrapped around my mother’s leg, always seeking attention from her. In this manner, I believe, this started my manipulative ways. I would sneak favoritism from my mother in getting beverages, or extra pieces of food or sweets that I liked, or anything from her to appease me. I also followed my older siblings around and, in that way, I became lazy in finding my own way. This blemish stuck with me when I got older, which led me to become a follower instead of a leader, and unfortunately, it was a bad leader that I was usually following. During the Douglas Dwellings time, there was constant fighting in our household. Allan and I were always fighting with each other, my older brother, John did not care for Eric, and my parents were always at it. The relationship between Richard and my sister, Alyce, was also strained. This issue showed how we held on to last week’s pent-up problems with each other and used them to start fighting or arguing with one another as new circumstances arose. We would never resolve the old issues, so problems would continue to build.

My second-grade teacher, Mrs. Elaine Gordon, at Turner Elementary School, who I have never forgotten, saved me from going straight home at times. My father would beat my mother unmercifully, as well as the rest of us. We would often see disruption of utility services at our house, either the electricity or heat would be cut off. Not being able to ignore the embarrassment, I carried the weight as if I was the provider of the family, in my head. I tried to learn how to be quiet about my household and sought outside sources to delay me coming home after school. I chose to impress Mrs. Gordon, by being an outstanding student. I did so well, that she kept me after class and occasionally after school. I was considered a teacher’s pet. I learned to lean on her like I did my mother and that endeared her to me. She would take me to her home where she lived with her husband. To me, I was developing a manipulative ability to get what I wanted by any means necessary, and by someone who needed attention. I never told her that my household was so chaotic. I could not let her know how much disturbance was taking place at my home. I did not want her to deny me of being around her. I already knew how to be deceptive in a childish manner, so, I also recognized that I did not like being denied, even something as simple as candy. If my behavior was satisfactory or exemplary, I would be rewarded and often with things or privileges that I wanted. I carried that understanding with me. I always acted well when I was around anyone that was not my family. I did not want to spoil my chances of going home after school with my teacher. It was such a relief for me to see another side of life which was peaceful, and it ignited me to do well in class. I just wanted to be accepted.

To see my father’s car parked outside of our house when she dropped me off sparked a cold feeling in me that I was not comfortable with. He either had us working diligently around the house or getting beatings if we did not respond in the custom in which he wanted us to be. If we did not clean the furniture the way he wanted it cleaned, a beating was waiting. I would do anything to avoid seeing him. This maneuver also followed me with age. Meaning, I would go to extremes to do what I wanted to escape. In later years, I surmised that he had a Napoleon complex. My father was five feet four and thought the only way he could show control was with excessive might and he used it quite well. He and my mother were foster children, and his upbringing was not pleasant. He carried that into his life and other relationships.

When he was 13, my father was eating out of garbage cans. I never knew his foster parents or my mother’s. So, with his foster parents treating him nastily, it was passed on to us. What later became plain to me is that hurt people, do hurt people. I would invent ways of avoiding him as much as possible. I would do anything that I could to keep from coming home after school to avoid my dysfunctional household. I was trying to get what I wanted, even though it was usually short lived. Already taking on characteristics of an addict. I saw in myself that I would throw anyone under the bus to accomplish my wants. I became a master and follower of it. I became an addict to it.

I would sneak food from the refrigerator and would never fess up. When I was questioned about it, I either denied it or blamed one of my siblings. Fearing the horrible reprimand, awaiting me if my father found out, I lied about any event that was thrown my way and did not care if I did. I also did not want to be responsible for my actions. This means that my projection showed how I would lie to avoid his punishment by lying on my other siblings. In addition, it displayed me developing an insensitive nature, in which, I was never proud of. This again showed my prediction on how I may have started lying and what I would do when pressure was applied. I would lie. My father had me so scared at times because he would beat us with his hands, open or a closed fist, whatever object that he could get his hands on, and he could clinch his teeth so tight that you could hear them grind outside of the house.

My sister Mickey was the first sibling to move. I never really knew her when I was young because she left when I was five and she was 15. But she had a great friend that came by, Antoinette, who I gravitated to her like she was my sister. Today, Antoinette and I have the same closeness. She really played a significant role in my life when I became an adult. We are family and I love her, dearly. Mickey got married when she was extremely young and had a daughter named Sharon.

There were heroes in my young eyes with my siblings growing up in my family, it was not always morbid. When I was seven, I had a hot fifty cent in my pocket and wanted to go to the store. The store was directly across the street and, I thought that it would not be a challenge for me if I did not go down to the corner and cross at the traffic lights. What my ingenious intellect told me was to run across the street without going down to the traffic light. My brother John, the next oldest brother was outside, and he saw the idiotic move that I had made and at the time I had reached the middle of the street. A car was approaching fast toward me. John had stopped what he was doing and jetted toward me and got me before the car could strike me. He did not even go in the house and tell on me. My hero. Again, much later in my life, John showed up again to do a fantastic deed concerning my life.

My other hero was my oldest brother, Richard. Richard was the first family member to go to Phelps Vocational High School. He pioneered our family business without knowing that he would because he was the originator of our haircutting venture. Our father used to cut our hair when we were young, and he had some of the strongest hands. With one hand, he would put a vice grip on our heads and squeeze. With the other hand he would cut our hair and would dare you to complain about the clippers pulling. I would cry after I got out of the chair either from the vice grip or from the plucked haircut when I looked in the mirror. What Richard did was go to a Vocational School and learn the trade of barbering so he could replace our father on our heads. Unfortunately for Richard, when he messed me up, I ended up with a fifty- cent bonus. I was begging my hair to grow back as quick as possible. Richard was 15 when he got his barbering license and worked at a shop in Fairmont Heights, Md. Then, at Mr. Johnson’s Barbershop in Savannah Terrace. I was so proud of him and would go up there as much as I could to see him work. Richard was trying to get out of the house, also, because my father just went down the line and called us all dumb expletives. I guess that was his way of controlling us, by demeaning us, both physically and emotionally. Richard was dyslexic, and my father pounced on any weakness that he thought that we had. Not knowing what Richard’s situation was, I just thought that he got caught stealing my father’s car and he was putting Richard out. Richard moved out and got an apartment in Parkland with his still present- day wife, Marlene. They have been married for 59 years. He had got a Lincoln Continental when he was 16 and as small as he is in stature, he looked like a giant to me. I was hanging around his apartment sometimes and his daughter, Rhonda was my favorite niece. Now that is two of my siblings that have left home.

John used to work across the street at the Five and Dime store. He would save his money and was extremely frugal with his money. My father stole some silver dollars out of John’s bank, and it set John off because he never did understand anyone taking anything from him. At 17, he moved out to Parklands Apartments. Also, John and his friend Lawrence Chic Frazier got an apartment together that they called The Ponderosa. They had a bachelor pad for a few years, with friends such as Richard Barrel Scott, Gregory Dukey Hawkins, Reginald Berry coming over until John got married. He and his wife had two children. John was going to Phelps Barbering School, just like Richard, and started working at Jack’s Barbershop. I used to go down to that shop also, being proud of both of my brothers.

My brother Eric used to take me with him when we would clean houses or apartments in Parkland when we were young. We learned how to clean from our father being so specific in controlling the household. Dishes had to be washed, floors were cleaned, waxed, and buffed. I still use Clorox today because we used it early in our lives. Eric would get customers that would want their windows cleaned, floors dusted and waxed, and we both would go and work in their households. During the Christmas holidays, we would go down to the woods and cut down pine trees and sell them. When we moved to the new address, Eric would move on after a few years of living there. He got his barbering license and worked in a Barbershop on Central Ave.

When my three oldest siblings had moved out of the house on Alabama and Stanton Rd. S.E., the rest of us moved to a single- family home at 3331 D Street S.E. It was an unusual place for me to be because we were in a mixed neighborhood. I had never experienced being around Caucasians. When I took my first walk around the neighborhood, I came across three white fellows and one of them called me nigger. Now, I am just moving to this new area and leaving a neighborhood of only my ethnicity. The household that I came from where we constantly fought. So, in fighting, I did not relish it, but I could take care of myself after my brothers finished beating me up. So, as I stopped in my tracks and asked whoever had said that word, would they repeat it. Truthfully, I was shocked because where I came from you would only hear that word when it was time to fight and that is what I did in retaliation to the fellow. I took care of what I had to do. After that day when they saw me, the word was no longer on their mouths.

During this time of my new neighborhood, I started to shut down. My father was constantly beating my mother and this one time, I saw him stomp her in her head. It was no way that I could communicate with anyone about my household. I thought the kids would ask, Why did she have shades on when the night was dark or either what was wrong with her lips or swollen cheeks. So, I started to make friends with dogs where I could express how I felt, and, to me they seemed to understand. I would go out of the house real early and steal dogs and run with them. It was this one dog, a boxer named Champ that must have had a mixture of Great Dane in him because he was extremely big. He would come to me when he saw me coming around the corner of DuBois Pl. and he was always chained. I would take him from the chain, and I had kept a leash like he was mine, and I would run around the neighborhood before I went to school.

I eventually found some friends in the neighborhood and my best friend at the time was a young guy named Baybay. He taught me how to play ball. He could really play all three sports, but he was introverted. I guess we saw that in each other because I was, too. He later, unfortunately committed suicide. In living in the neighborhood, I came across other younger people that I had developed a good relationship with. This happened because of my two outgoing brothers that were still in the house. Eric and Allan, who knew a lot of people and I was just blessed to be their brother. It really made me look at myself and work on changing my attitude of a closed shell.

I had to stop hanging with dogs and choose human friends. Most of the young people I knew where older because I would hang with my older siblings’ friends. Clarence Bubby Scott, William King Ragland were some of my friends around the D Street neighborhood and we became close. But Bubby ended up in reform school and I would see him periodically. He always had something going on. When I was in the sixth grade Bubby and King broke into a store and got caught.

So, in searching for other friends, I would catch the Shipley Terrace bus and go over to Mrs. Ann Hall’s, one of my mother’s best friends’ house where she had a son named Donny. Donny was one of the coolest dressers for a young guy around 13. My brothers could dress also, but they were shorter than me and Donny wore some nice clothes, and fortunately we grew awfully close. We happened to be the same size, and he had plenty of clothes and would let me wear those that weren’t his favorite. Coming from a home where I was the tallest one and the next one in line for a hand-me-down, I enjoyed being at Donny’s home because his wardrobe was sharp. I thought that acceptance included outwardly appearances on how you dressed. With my upgraded style, I was beginning to be more friendly. This showed me that I was looking outside of myself to fill the void that was still lingering inside. If I am allowing myself to be represented by my dress, then I did not address inner matters or my integrity, which should have been foremost when it came to be being and feeling respected. But again, even with me staying at Donny’s house for a few days, I could not tell him what my home was like. I could not tell him my father was still beating my mother. Although Ms. Ann knew it, I still would not say anything. I was trying to escape my father’s dominion. That plan of escape collapsed when he told me to come home. Reality struck again.

What my father showed me was that hard work pays off in the end. He