The Pursuit of Personal Excellence: The “Pope”

By Kevin H. Rowe

The Pursuit of Personal Excellence (the POPE) is an exhilarating introspective journey of disciplined mental mastery. The POPE gives you the solution for positive change to fulfill your dreams! It will equip you with the tools necessary to change your life from mediocre to phenomenal! The POPE will help you transform your life with mental discipline and a personal commitment to excellence sprinkled with love, compassion, integrity, self-knowledge, confidence, and personal mental power!
If youre looking for personal power and purpose in your life, the POPE is your answer!
Rich or poor, the POPE will inspire you!
The POPE dares to change the world!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499062373

Kevin H. Rowe

Kevin Rowe is a social visionary with a keen understanding of people driven by an undaunted desire to help them be better people and lead better lives. Kevin Rowe draws upon nearly 30 years of public safety experience to give you unique perspective reference self-discipline, love, excellence, compassion and self-motivation. He’s a Chicago native. Albuquerque has been home for he and his family for nearly twenty years. He is happily married and the proud father of three children. He is a proud graduate of Iowa State University with a Bachelors Degree in Political Science/Marketing. Kevin Rowe grew up poor but was rich inside. He has overcome many obstacles in his life that have taught him valuable lessons about mental strength, self-discipline, and personal power. Poverty has a strange way of changing people. It can either change people to conform to an impoverished mentality or it can inspire people to have enormous drive to change their circumstances. Kevin Rowe adopted the latter. He feels that love is extremely important to morality and he sprinkles it all over his existence. No one is perfect and no shall ever be perfect but Rowe feels that we can always improve. Rowe changed his circumstances by pursuing personal excellence. Excellence was his answer to overcoming obstacles. Growing up in the ghettos of Chicago uniquely prepared him for a life of purpose, integrity, and service to others. Kevin Rowe established an ability to triumph over hardships and tribulations with dignity and courage. He is often quoted saying “Excellence has no particular color, race, creed, size, height, weight, or shape. Excellence is key to overcoming obstacles.” Kevin Rowe is a dynamic, charismatic, and caring person and leader. He is also a very talented musician, songwriter, producer, and vocalist. He has spent the greater portion of his life loving, serving, and protecting people unconditionally because he truly loves people! Kevin Rowe is a powerful motivational speaker as well! Personal words from the author: Hi, I am Kevin Rowe and I would like to personally invite you on a journey. In fact, I would like to invite you on an exhilarating introspective journey of disciplined mental mastery. I affectionately entitled this book The POPE which translates to being The Pursuit of Personal Excellence because I was compelled to share with you all of the magnificent tools for success I have acquired over my lifetime. I know that there are people out there who are hurting. I know that there are people out there who are depressed. I know that there are people out there who are tired of their current circumstances. I know that there are people out there who want more out of life. I know that there are people out there who want more confidence. I know that there are people out there who want more self-knowledge and purpose in their life. I know that there are people out there who desperately want to be successful. I know that there are people out there who need more compassion in their life. I know that there are people out there who desire more love in their life and being. I know that there are people out there who need and desire more discipline in their life. I know that there are people out there who desire more peace in their life. I know that there are people out there who want personal power. I know that there are people out there who desire to be a better person. I know there are people out there who need to be a better person. I know that there are people out there who desire to leave the basement of life and move up to the high rise. And I know that there are people out there who are tired of dealing with rude, insolent, and cruel people. The POPE is the answer! The POPE is here for you! You must ever remember that it’s not where you come from; it’s all about what’s inside of you! The POPE is your key to unlocking wonderful potential an unleashing personal power to achieve your dreams! I want you to be successful! I want you to be a better person! And I want you to live a better life! Have you reached the highest pinnacle of success in your life? Do you feel that the person you are today can be and should be better? Do you want more out of life? Do you want to live a life of purpose? Take a chance and go beyond your current limits of morality, humanitarianism, faith, fairness, self-motivation, self-discipline, professionalism, and commitment! Take advantage of your unique opportunity by embarking on this introspective journey of disciplined mental mastery by adopting The POPE into your life today to begin being a better person, leading a better life, and begin helping to change our world through excellence – one person at a time! My friend, The POPE is refreshing, and it is the reality millions of people secretly long for! Get The POPE today and experience the unique power of positive self-transformation through self-awareness, self-love, self-motivation, and self-discipline! I dare you to try The POPE! It is inspiring! It is passionate! It is enlightening! It is life changing! Try The POPE! It shall prove to be one of the best investments you have made in your life! I love you! Kevin Rowe

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Kevin H. Rowe.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014914978

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-6239-7

                Softcover        978-1-4990-6238-0

                eBook             978-1-4990-6237-3

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/22/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1   Incubator

Chapter 2   The Power Of A Dream

Chapter 3   I Am My Best Friend

Chapter 4   Mastering Confidence

Chapter 5   The Power Of You

Chapter 6   The Pursuit

Chapter 7   Twenty-One And Three: Being The Best Me That I Can Be

Chapter 8   Flying High

Chapter 9   Don’t Quit—Just Do It

Chapter 10   Energize After Sunrise

Chapter 11   Be That Person Now

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book is dedicated to Pearl Rowe, the woman that gave me life and who has selflessly sacrificed everything she had to make me the man that I am today – a good man!

Success cannot exist without proper support. This book is a work of love. Much support and inspiration came in many forms.

I want to thank my fabulous wife, Kathy [Peaches]. Your love and support sustains me. Thanks for walking into my dream and further igniting my drive. Thanks for believing in me. You have my undying love.

My children, Tuvara, Tre’Cee, and Kevin II ( KJ ) the true wealth of my life. Give your best – Nothing less! Thoughts of you opened wisdom.

My brother, Al Rowe, thanks for helping me to stay grounded musically and for ever making me feel appreciated. I appreciate your love and wise counsel.

Dwayne Johnson, from roommate to friend to brother. I love you. College connected us for life.

Dr. James T. Reese, thanks for your friendship and inspiration.

Dr. George Jackson, thanks for not giving up on students.

Pearline Mosley, that shirt you bought me filled my heart with a lifetime of love.

Donna Mosley, my bracelet speaks of you daily.

To my brothers and sisters at APD, thanks for giving me the opportunity to serve with you. I love you.

Dr. Debra Cotton, your life inspired me to lead. For that alone, I thank you.

Deron Strickland and Calvin D. Jones, thanks for the brotherhood.

To my team of professionals at Xlibris, your expertise is much appreciated.

I also want to thank God.

CHAPTER 1

Incubator

P OVERTY AND FEAR were high, while money and respect were low. The bricks were brown and strong. The buildings were built to last long. Families were challenged with finding peace. Families hustled to find and maintain daily provisions. Poverty was extreme.

It was not uncommon to see street pharmaceutical salesmen diligently serving the community on a daily basis. It was not uncommon to see local community groups taking control over buildings, elevators, entryways, streets, parks, and people. These groups were very effective in the use of persuasion. Perhaps it was based upon how they looked. Perhaps it was based upon the sincerity seen on their faces and heard in their voices. Perhaps it was the metal tools of destruction held in their hands. Perhaps this same sense of persuasion was based on the fact that these local community groups boasted massive membership numbers exhibiting cloned behavior.

The community had portions of people who went to work daily. However, there was a large majority of local residents who were daily benefactors of the United States government who did not, would not, or could not work. Thus, this rendered a community plagued with passive motivation and continuous human degradation. Note that pharmaceutical sales were up in the neighborhoods, and the number of salesmen increased as well. These salesmen were employed by the local community groups. As a result of the sales success, many local residents became dependent on the drugs sold to them.

Business was booming. Recruitment was high. Territorial acquisitions became the order of the day. The common denominator was death, and the tools of destruction were drugs and massive violence. The most prevalent community groups were named the Black Stone Rangers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Almighty_Black_P._Stone_Nation) and the Black Gangster Disciples (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gangster_Disciples). In sum, you had People Nation sets, i.e., Black Stone Rangers, and you had Folk Nation sets, i.e., Black Gangster Disciples, all of which fought hard for economic power and territorial control via fear, violence, and death. Gun violence was rampant. The local community groups my former words depict were actually hardcore street gangs; that’s right, hardcore street gangs. Pimps, prostitution, drugs, crime, violence, and hustling were the reality of this community. Vacant lots, dead dogs, L trains, graffiti, broken glass, filthy streets, broken windows, boarded buildings, dogs on chains, frequent shots fired, and constant police presence and sirens were the backdrop. It is important to mention that this was all occurring during a period of great racial tension and unrest in America.

I would like to share a short story with you that occurred while living in the ghetto, which I have entitled Caught in the Fire. One day while traveling to my grandmother’s house, my brother and I were passengers in the rear seats of my mother’s cobalt-blue Mercury. This was a neat vehicle in that it had a rear windshield that could be raised up and down electronically just as the side windows of the vehicle. On this particular day, a nice breezy summer day in July, our rear window was lowered, and my brother and I were enjoying the wonderful breeze flowing through it upon the rear of our heads. We would frequently turn around in our seats to watch people as we drove by them as well as stare at the striped lane dividers and debris along the roadways. It was nice to smell the fragrance of green grass amid the occasional smog encountered as we traveled. It was also nice to people watch as well.

We finally arrived within the area of my grandmother’s home and began to travel on Wentworth Boulevard and observed many familiar sights due to this being my mother’s normal travel route to my grandmother’s home. We made our right turn on Sixty-Seventh and began to travel a half block to Sixty-sixth Place to make our immediate left turn. This again was a typical part of our navigation to my grandmother’s home. However, on this particular day, something was different. Something just seemed a bit different than any other drive down Sixty-Sixth Place. Something seemed a bit ire and unusual, even in the midst of the typical crowds of people normally gathered along the street.

My mother began her normal approach to the parking space just east of my grandmother’s home when suddenly, without warning, people began to sprint, jump, push, duck, and hide with obvious fear adorning their faces. I could hear massive frightened screams emitting from the mouths of panicked people running past our vehicle. This alarmed my mother, and it definitely frightened us. Suddenly, we heard gunshots from afar. They then seemed to be getting closer and closer to our vehicle. My mother quickly turned around in her seat and yelled Get down, boys! Lay down on the floor and cover your heads! These fools are shooting!

We said, Yes, ma’am, and did exactly as she instructed us to do. My mother did the same by lying down prostrate on the front seat. Not only did we hear rapid gunshots, but we also heard police sirens screaming as well nearby. It became obvious to us that we were in the midst of a rival gang fight. The Black Stone Rangers and the Disciples were shooting it out in the streets. This was done randomly and often without any type of grapevine (word of mouth) warnings.

The gunshots came closer and closer. I remember looking up while lying on the floorboard in front of the rear seat and seeing an unidentified black male pointing a gun into the lowered rear window of our car. As I stared at him while yelling Don’t shoot us! Please don’t shoot us! it looked as if he was about to pull the trigger when, suddenly, another gang member ran up to him and grabbed his shooting hand and shouted, Man, the cops are hittin’ the block. We got to split now! Let’s roll! We don’t have time for this! Let’s go! The shooter stared at me with a look that I shall never forget and then ran off.

I thought for sure that I was going to die that day from the bullet of that gang member’s gun. Well, I’m here to tell this story because it was not my time. Fate was kind in that respect. Perhaps this was an omen depicting a glimpse of my future—a future in serving and protecting people from the fears and tragedies often experienced within impoverished environments that seemed unfixable by police alone. Perhaps it was that small impetus that sparked a calling of service within my heart. Perhaps it was the self-hate in the eyes of that criminal that made me want to love people more. What I am certain about that day is the fact that on that day, I was given a miracle gift—my calling to serve and protect. I was caught in the fire and walked out with a greater love—my calling.

Another gang that prevailed in the neighborhoods was that of the Black Panthers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Panther_Party). In 1955, Mayor Richard J. Daily was elected mayor of the city of Chicago. In 1963, the Bears won the National Football League Championship. In 1966, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. led a two-month open-house campaign in Chicago. He even moved his family into a dingy apartment and participated in two dramatic marches during this time. This was the setting. This is where I lived. This is where it all began for me—my twenty-one and three, my pursuit of personal excellence.

I was born into a family of four, which later diminished to a family of three, following the untimely death of my father. The projects of the West Side were our home, which were later traded in for those of the South Side. I was burned as an infant. I had a two-toned face; yes, as sad as this may seem, I managed to survive the ridicule and shame. As a child, I was mostly a quiet kid, always thinking. I spent quite a bit of time thinking. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed thinking. But I was also outgoing. Yes, I could be a bit rambunctious at times, wanting to have fun just like anyone else. But sometimes, it became a bit difficult because of my face. I loved people, and I continue to love people today.

But I wanted to make it, and nothing—I mean nothing—was going to stop me. My dad’s name was Henry. He was about six feet tall, muscular build, handsome, talented, and was a very loving man. My dad was not a senator nor the president nor vice president of a corporation nor a college educator nor a wealthy man. In fact, my dad was a taxicab driver, a Yellow Cab taxicab driver. I’m not saying this to indicate that there’s something negative about that. It just happens to be my father’s lot in life. And he was a good man.

He always told my brother and me, Take care of your mom. He said this each day before he left home for work. Take care of your mom. My dad was also a singer and a guitarist. Wow, how he sang to my mother. I remember that. He had a beautiful falsetto voice. He could even crack a glass. My dad … my dad.

He often took us to the cab depot to hang out with him and his cabbie friends. While we were there, my dad would always buy us an Oh Henry!—you know, the candy bar. What a joy that was for us. He would lift me up and hold me in the air, and I’d look down at him. I loved my dad. What joy we had hanging out with him, except one day, that awful day, when we received a dreadful phone call that changed our lives.

On this day, my mother and my brother and I were well-engulfed in our daily routine of watching Perry Mason. This is what we did as a family. We watched the Perry Mason TV series daily, and each of us would always try to predict who was the guilty party before the end of the program. But the phone rang on this particular day, and our lives are changed forever.

My mother answered the phone. Nothing new about that; it happened often. But this particular phone call was different. After my mother said hello, she dropped the phone and began to cry profusely.

We looked up, and the first question I asked was, What’s wrong, Mom? She couldn’t speak.

While she was crying hysterically, she said, Your dad died.

I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that this could be happening to us, not us. There’s some kind of mistake. It had to be some kind of mistake. But the reality of that situation was just that. It was reality, not a dream, not a figment of my imagination. It was reality. My dad had died. My dad had died from a sudden blood clot on his heart. My dad was approximately twenty-seven years old. If you can imagine, he was muscular, athletically built, handsome, strong, and energetic. But a sudden blood clot on his heart, how could this happen? As a boy, I didn’t know.

While at his funeral, I sat quietly, and I remembered what he said to me each day. Take care of your mom. Yes, my friend, I had to take care of my mother. I had to make it.

We lived in the projects. We were confined to live in an area of the city plagued with violence and crime. We were confined to live in a city housing project. Now these weren’t glamorous apartments. These weren’t situated in an environment of love, joy, and hope. No. In fact, the projects were a terrible place to live. It was a horrible place to live. It was a very terrifying place to live. It was a very discouraging place to live. That was the projects.

My mother, Pearl, was a homemaker. She had a high school education, and so did my dad. Neither one of them attended college; they wanted to but could not afford to. My mom was strong, honest, and wise. And she remains that way today. Her dream was to make my brother and me good men. Can you imagine that? This was her dream. She didn’t dream to be a wealthy woman. She didn’t dream to be an educator. She didn’t dream to own a factory or company. No, no. No, my mother’s dream was quite simple in rhetoric but most difficult in terms of achievement. She wanted to make her sons grow into becoming good men.

POPE Lesson Number 1: Learn to dream-see and feel your destiny. → Give excellence in dreaming.

Determine a reality you envision for yourself and manifest it within the soul of your heart. For it is your heart that will drive your mind to engage your body and your being to act.

We lived in a reddish-brown brick structure. Perhaps you have seen these buildings. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen any urban city housing projects, whether it be in New York, Chicago, or any other major metropolitan city. They are typically one to eighteen stories high. In fact, you can have thousands of residents inside of one building structure. But they would also have, in sections gathered together, perhaps six to seven of those buildings quite close to another section with six to seven buildings of the same. And this is how you have a project community; people living in a common area of degradation, crime, and fear, an area most difficult to escape.

We had a two-bedroom, one-bathroom project apartment. We had cockroaches inside of our apartment. This was not due to my mother being unclean or keeping an unclean home. No, no. This was due to the fact that when you live in a project area, the infestation of roaches permeates through the building. And you may keep your apartment clean, but you can’t stop the roaches because they have infiltrated through the walls by way of the ventilation systems, and they are there to stay. But we would often have an exterminator come. Almost every week, my mother would have them come to exterminate our apartment. She would keep the place spotless, and she taught us to be neat.

She taught us to care about our surroundings. She taught us to care about ourselves, and she taught us to respect the things that we have and to take care of them. In the same area, there was rotting trash, garbage in trash chutes, and an incinerator. An incinerator was used to burn garbage. That can often be hazardous when you have small children around. However, my mom kept our home spotless.

There were certain values that were very important in our home. Mom taught us to serve God first of all, to be honest, to never lie, and to be self-confident, which reminds me of a story about our piggy bank. The reason why I want to share this story is that it taught us a very, very important moral, and I’ll tell you that when I’m through with this story. I entitled this story Piggy Bank Caper.

One day we were at home, and my brother, Al, came to me, and he handed me a quarter. And I said, What is this quarter for? He put it in my hand, and he closed my hand with the quarter inside. I asked him again, What is this quarter for?

He said, Well, it’s a quarter that I got out of our piggy bank.

I said, Our piggy bank?

He said, Yes.

I said, Mom said that money was being saved for us to go to college.

He said, I know, but you remember she said it was our money.

I said, I know, but she said that we were saving that for our college fund.

He said, Listen, man, don’t you think we can pay that quarter back by the time we go to college? It’s only one quarter.

I began to think about what he said. Hmm, that made sense. I said, Yeah, we could pay that back before we go to college.

So we went on our way to school, and I bought an extra cookie for lunch. You know those big sugar cookies? I bought an extra cookie. I even bought some candy from the neighborhood candy store on the way to the school. Man, that felt great to have some extra—extra cookies and also extra candy. Well, unfortunately, one quarter led to fifty cents a day. And that fifty cents moved on to seventy-five cents per day, sometimes even a dollar per day. We were rolling in the dough, and popularity at school was very, very high. I was a big man on campus because I had extra. Did you hear me? I had extra—extra candy in my pockets—which it almost appeared that my pockets had the mumps.

Kids would walk down the school corridor, and I’d walk past them, and they’d say, Hi, Kevin, and I’d say, Hey, here, and I’d give them a piece of candy. They’d say, Thank you, Kevin. Oh, I was a big man on campus. In fact, when I arrived at school, people were looking forward to seeing me because I was the man. They would get some candy from me. I would cheer their day. It put a smile on their faces after they put that Jolly Rancher in their mouth.

That went on for a while until one day of dreadful shopping. You’re probably wondering what I mean by that—dreadful shopping. On this particular day, my mother asked one of her good friend’s daughters to walk us down to the shopping mart area. It was sort of like a flea market area on Roosevelt Road in the area commonly known to Chicagoans at the time as Jew Town. Now I don’t mean any negative connotations to the Jewish Community, but that is exactly what it was called at the time. It was called Jew Town, and you could go barter and trade there. I even think, as I look back on it now, that was an area where people would even sell stolen items that perhaps were stolen from burglaries or whatever. But they would sell it, and it was a place to barter, trade, and buy, and most times at low cost.

On this particular day, this young lady agreed to escort my brother and me to the shopping area and back home. The idea was that we would purchase some shoes and then come back home. So the young lady who was a teenager at the time and was a few years older than us walked us down to Jew Town. At the time, my mother had a friend who was a Chicago police officer. His name was Hawkins. Hawkins was a good man, very strong and very stout. And if you saw him, you would come to one conclusion: this man means business. I have to assume that most criminals would think that too when they were able to observe him.

As this young lady took us to go shopping for our shoes, along the way to the shoe store, we saw things that we wanted to purchase. Whether it be candy, whether it be a small toy or some trinket, we decided to purchase them. She didn’t have any objections to that, so we did. After shopping