I Know How It Feels: Lessons of a Lifelong Dream

By Charles E. Clark

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where it all begins, a life that is untold; uncut, uncensored, and as rough, rugged, and raw as it can be. Charles E. Clark Sr. autobiography, I Know How It Feels, is an intense memoir that characterizes his transition from a crime filled and disadvantaged childhood throughout his struggles to put away the childish things. Charles will shock the world as he reveals his true accounts of murder, drugs, growing up without a father, homelessness and crime sprees to his triumphant rescue, desire of love & loyalty, humility and a sense of renewed family values. He opens up his heart to reveal the "real" Charles E. Clark, and not what others "think" he is, should be or circumstances forces him to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 24, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450099974

Charles E. Clark

Charles E. Clark Sr., author of “I Know How It Feels”, was born in Philadelphia, PA. Not only an enthusiastic and skilled writer but this US Navy’s Information Systems Technician, substitute teacher & high school football coach, is finally awakening from the lessons of his self proclaimed life-long dream. Charles’s experience as a young black and under privileged male growing up in America, now explains to his readers, “I Know How It Feels”.

Book preview

I Know How It Feels

Lessons of a Lifelong Dream

Charles E. Clark

Copyright © 2010 by Charles E. Clark.

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.

Lyrics of Everyday Struggle by The Notorious B.I.G. and title use of one line of Everyday Struggle

by The Notorious B.I.G. and produced by The Bluez Brothers for Bad Boy Records.

Excerpts from lyrics of Things Done Changed by The Notorious B.I.G. and produced by Darnell Scott for Bad Boy Records.

Excerpts from lyrics of Gimme the Loot by The Notorious B.I.G. and produced by Easy Mo Bee for Bad Boy Records.

Excerpts from lyrics of Me & My Bitch by The Notorious B.I.G. and produced by The Bluez Brothers, Chucky Thompson and Sean Combs for Bad Boy Records.

In no way does the author endorse or desire to advertise for any of the following manufacturers, companies, government agencies or public school systems nor intend to embarrass, humiliate, incriminate or shame anyone or their subordinate commands and affiliates in any type of way: Air Jordan, Nike Air Force One, Timberland, Polo, Starter, Triple Fat Goose, Dickie, mySpace, Cadillac, Mercedes Benz, BMW, Infiniti, Jaguar, Oldsmobile, Chevy, Philadelphia Airport, UPS, Pop Warner, US Navy, US Army, US Marines, Knox County Public Schools, Portsmouth Public Schools, South Jersey Public Schools.

Names of characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously in attempts to protect the innocent unless otherwise given permission to use. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Prelude

PART 1

Chapter 1      Sprung From The Nest

Chapter 2      Time To Bounce Out

Chapter 3      Someone Has To Go

Chapter 4      You Saved My Life

Chapter 5      Change Comes And Goes

Chapter 6      Clashes

Chapter 7      Becoming Cold

Chapter 8      Get Money

Chapter 9      One Way Ticket

Chapter 10    New Jeruz

Chapter 11    Balancing Life

Chapter 12    Two Up Two Down

PART 2

Chapter 13    Poisoned Reality

Chapter 14    The Prodigal Son

Chapter 15    Ready To Go Home

Chapter 16    Sunset

Chapter 17    Safely Home

Chapter 18    And Then There Was . . .

Chapter 19    Lost Cause

Chapter 20    I Know How It Feels

Chapter 21    A New Strength

To Chuck, Da’von, Jasmine and all the youth of your generation, with the prayer that you succeed and grow in a world where the Lord will supply all your needs if only you have the faith the size of a mustard seed.

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to my kids; Da’von, Charles Jr. and Jasmine. Children who prove to me every day that they’d pick me blindfolded out of a crowded room of World’s Greatest Dad contestants and take me home with them. You were made perfect in the Lord’s sight, are best friends and the foundation that nourishes my mind, body and soul. I am everlastingly thankful to God for trusting me as your father and for bringing us into each other’s lives. I Love You, I Love You, And I Love You!

This book is also devoted to my grandmother Carolyn Clark, who consistently taught me how to truly love by her actions and the way she pours affection out on her entire family. I am forever grateful for you in ways that the world will never know. Thank you for always loving me, for shaping my life, and helping me to learn Biblical truths through your Christ-like attitude. My grandfather, Luel Clark Sr., whose sternness, beliefs on getting a good education and no-nonsense disciplined lifestyle continues to emit light into every angle of my life and is sure to pass on for generations to come through your great grandchildren. My committed surrogate mother, Aleda Douglass, who reared me up from the age of 10 and was everything but an arrangement in my life. You taught me the value of family and that love has no boundaries in this world. Your willingness to sacrifice your livelihood for mine was an act of God sending you to me as my personal Angel and I’ve been on the right track ever since.

Much love to my siblings; Tim, William, Chris, Michael Jr, Micah, Melvin, Mikey, and Michelle. All of your steadfast friendships have been priceless and every crazy memory about each of you always brings a smile to my face. I love you and send a big giant hug all your way.

This book is in no way intended to embarrass, humiliate, incriminate or shame anyone in any way. This is life as experienced and seen through my perceptions.

God is good . . . no God is great . . . no God is impeccable all the time to me! If it wasn’t for Him, where would I be? Unless otherwise recognized, Scripture quotations that I used throughout my book are from the King James Version and are the fruits of my life. Please note that my literary style capitalizes certain pronouns in Scripture and within my manuscript that refer to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and may differ from some author’s styles. Take note that the name satan and related names are not capitalized. I choose not to acknowledge him even to the point of me willfully violating grammatical rules.

Finally, a special mark of respect to my beloved mother Denise E. Clark-Abron, who transitioned March 15, 2007. The proof of her Godliness made it no accident that this book is in your hands today. "It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ . . . He had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose He is working out in everything and everyone". EPHESIANS 1:2 (Msg)

I love you mom and I miss you dearly.

~Denny’s Child

Introduction

Captain’s log, 03OCT05 16:00 hours . . . wait a minute, did I just say that? I don’t even like Star Trek, nor do I know why I had that on my mind. This isn’t some science-fiction story, an imaginary game, or some Hollywood adventure. This is a memoir of my life as it is told; uncut, uncensored, and as rough, rugged, and raw as it can be. The only difference between this and others is that I am not ashamed of who I am and still not too sure why other young brothers in my peer group who has had similar experiences in life such as I have, think that it’s a secret and is embarrassed by what our society thinks. Either way, I know how it feels to wake up f*&ked up.

I’m not too certain on what brought me to this, but I’ve always liked to express myself in many forms, be it always talking, my personality, my social life, through sports, or my family, but for the last few years, I’ve seemed to enjoy writing spoken word poetry (which was a pass down from my B-Boy days of when I used to rap). Now that I’m an I.T. in the Navy, I’m always in email, using a word document or some other program that keeps me writing, then five years ago, all of a sudden after twenty-eight years of holding things inside . . . I just blew up, went to see a counselor and let it all out. Things that I thought was a lie or that I just simply held deeply inside to forget about over all these years, all just came out of me in that office as clear and truthful as the daylight. After talking with my Aunts over dinner in Philly one summer evening, I decided to follow through with my plans and just continue writing.

Yep, I just write, and write, and write at work, in my car, in the bed, on my BlackBerry, when I’m not busy, in my free time, just all the time. I even have this recorder on in my head that I have on continuous run. It just so happens that I even have a friend in my motorcycle club who is an English major, and one helluva editor. He will keep me just as sharp on my literature as I am with my verbals. I’ve confirmed to myself after that dinner, I would finish out the manuscripts of my life on paper even though I’m sure some of my family members would not like for me to put what was suppose to be our business out in the streets. But, it’s not our business. IT’S MY LIFE that I’m talking about and I have finally come to the realization that I’m not one bit ashamed of it anymore. It’s who I am, what make up my DNA, and keeps the pressures of my blood flowing through my heart. Believe that!

Prelude

As the calm of the morning settled from all the crackheads running around, hustlers making money, arguments, fights, dice games, and crooked polices’ harassments from what was a typical night in Austin Homes projects the night before, I sat in the passenger seat of Sonny’s tricked out 1986 Cadillac Sedan Deville with squinted eyes, high from the two blunts we took so much pride in rolling from the last of the half pound bag of weed we had smoked. Ice Cube’s latest tape Amerikkka’s Most Wanted played in the background as we counted over forty two hundred dollars in the front seat from last night’s hustle. The whole time, I kept making sure that my snug-nose .357 was in easy access for grabbing, which I always kept for my private affairs if anything got out of hand. In this game you, couldn’t trust ANYBODY, not even your own crew. We both just sat there in the car content with last night’s earnings and eager to get more.

Just with that thought, I turned and looked at Sonny, and just about pistol whipped him and put him out of his own car and took all the dough for myself, but instead I just chilled. I needed to use him for just a little while longer because I had a major plan to move in on his operation and take over business for myself.

That evening, although he was M.I.A. from off the block the night before, my homeboy, Jerry Bang, knew about the cash that I was sitting on from the new half-pound of bud I always copped for my pleasures of puffing on, and also from the way I sported those fresh new Dickie coveralls. It was almost like he could read my mind. I think it was partially because I had the coveralls airbrushed on the back with Bugs Bunny holding a gun with the inscriptions, B. Campbell . . . that nigga should’ve killed me and my street call sign, Daddy Rich (Rich for short) on the front. Not to mention, I’m sure he could tell by the way I limped when I walked that I had a sawed off 16-gauge double barrel shotgun pump underneath.

I greeted him by saying, "What’s up, J-Bang? and gave him a handshake as he immediately began to quiz me for information about my plot.

He was just as cold hearted and raw to the bone, only had love for me over anybody in the streets, and would never think of even hearing about harm coming my way. He didn’t sport that name for nothing, everybody got their call sign from the reputation that they made for themselves in the streets. His was because he had a love for letting that pistol bang. Also, when he beat the charges after walking up on a dude who was already down, and stood over him and kept letting his 9mm bang on the poor soul, everyone knew not to try Jerry. Thus, came his name. If there was anybody in the world that I could trust to have heart to follow through with the crazy shit I was about to set in on, was none other than J-Bang himself.

PART

1

"What is causing the quarrels and fights among you . . . You are jealous of what others have . . . Yet, you don’t have what you want because you don’t ask GOD for it and even when you ask, you don’t get it because your motives are all wrong—you want only what will give you pleasure."

James 4:1-3 (NLT)

Chapter 1

SPRUNG FROM THE NEST

My Aunt Yvette once said, You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family, and if so, I’d still pick you. At first I paid the comment no attention, but after her words brewed on my mind, I felt exactly what she was saying. Despite all the turmoil and pain a family could encounter, nothing could ever separate or tear this family apart from the loving foundation that this Clark Family has built and carefully cemented together. If nothing else, we had each other.

East Falls Low-income Housing Projects, North Philadelphia born! No excuses, no sob stories, just simply gettin’ it in. That’s where we began putting together the blue prints for this family. My grandmother was one of many black women who were left in the late 1960s and early ’70s to fend for and raise a family by themselves. Now, the mid ’70s wasn’t the best of times for those from the ghetto to raise a family in, but she did it and made it work, too. She had three girls and two boys of her own, with an additional two grandsons to pour her love on. Lou, who we called Brother, Yvette, Tyheeda, and Kyle was my aunts and uncles. My mother, Liz, was her oldest and already had a child of her own while still living at home at the age of sixteen. In today’s society, that’s not anything unheard of, but back then, it really wasn’t so much of a common thing, or for that matter talked about.

Not too long after having my older brother, Alan; my mom moved out of the 13 floor building that was considered the upper housing or high rise units in East Falls that had once belonged to my grandmother before she moved back to Germantown, Philadelphia, and called the roach infested, pissy staircase, broken elevator units connected to the six or seven row units, our home. At the age of twenty, and with years of being out on her own and experimenting with men, I came screaming out from between my moms legs and into this world as Charles Edward Clark at Women’s Medical Center.

Now, for the first ten years of my life, I couldn’t really say that this whole new thing of living was anything close to being good, but for the most part I’d rather had stayed inside her womb.

To this date, it still wasn’t a clear story on why I didn’t know my father was alive until I was eighteen and finally meet at the age of twenty-eight. For some strange reason, my mother named me after him, but smartly did not give me his last name of Oliver. He and his family were labeled as the crazy family in the projects. My dad was a very violent and dangerous man, and even worse, he was a woman abuser. He was known for his skills as a musician and had a ladies man style of his own, in which after he earned the trust of his women, he’d turn on them as if it was a scene from Texas Chain Saw Massacre. The only difference was that his weapon of choice was the power in his fist and a .45 caliber handgun that landed him in his current prison cell, which he still calls home today.

Not too long after I was born, my mother went missing for a few days with Alan and me. It really wasn’t anything to be alarmed over at first, because she lived on her own on the other side of town from her family, and every now and then she would spend the night over her boyfriend’s house, whomever he was at the time. Most females searched for love from their absent fathers in the 60’s and 70’s and when they didn’t get it, the results usually ended with them looking for a so-called fictitious love that they believed in since it was all that they knew. That was the first thing that irritated me about my mother because she was a sucker for any nigga that told her he loved her.

Well, on that occasion, her whereabouts became a talk of the projects and my uncle Lou, who ran with Crest Well gang, knew about everything that happened on their turf and he demanded that her disappearance was not going to be the gossip of East Falls projects. So, after asking around and coming up with nothing except for the fact that another female named Sharon, who my dad was also fucking, had also not been seen in the past few days.

Tyheeda was second to the baby in the family and it just so happened that on that particular day, she had been sick and didn’t go to school. Charles Oliver, who lived with his mother and would also, in his rages, physically beat down, decided to leave the house the same morning that Tyheeda was sick. For about twenty minutes, that would finally be the moment that my mother would use to make her existence known and change her life forever. In a quick and panic fury, Liz ran over to her mother’s house to grab some clothes, food, and a few extra things for her newborn baby and Alan, but didn’t expect anyone to be at home. Before she could grab all the necessary things that she needed then make a break for the front door, Tyheeda saw my mother and almost immediately became enraged by the bruised, dark hand prints that she seen around my mother’s light skinned throat. Liz had tried to pass by Tyheeda with her head down but the dark lines on the side of Liz’s neck seemed too strange for her little sister to not pay any attention too. After noticing the dark lines on the opposite side of her neck and the full view of two thumb prints on the front of her throat, Tyheeda began her own interrogation on her big sister. Filled with shame, Liz felt like she didn’t have an ounce of time to sit and explain things to her little sister because she had to get back before Charles got back home, but she did make it clear to not tell anybody what she had seen. Tyheeda was the smart, fast ass, ahead of the game and always quick on her feet type. You think she kept it a secret? Think again! She didn’t waste anytime getting on the phone to call my grandmother who needed every penny she earned at work, who eventually would end up calling my grandfather. Brother got the word of what was going on and began rounding up the Crest Well gang, and everybody who was anybody in East Falls. My grandfather was on his way over to Philly from across the Ben Franklin Bridge