Picture Perfect: Book O' Rhymez

By Samuel Cannady Jr.

It’s a book about love, religion, change, consequences, politics, race, and history. It’s an inspirational book about growth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532077999

Samuel Cannady Jr.

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Copyright © 2019 Samuel Cannady Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7800-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7799-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019908792

iUniverse rev. date: 07/03/2019

Contents

Intro-Blessed One

Growing Pains

Old Wise Man from The South

Reunited

Automobile

A Different World

Hi, Story!

New Friends

Another Day

I Can’t Complain

School Years

Preach, Preacher!

Things Changed

Companionship

Career

Change

Living

Intro-Blessed One

The alarm went off and it was time for work. I got out of bed, pulled out my clothes, and ironed my pants and my shirt. I did a little workout; then I jumped in the tub to take a shower. I have it all calculated. I must be to work in two hours. I got out the tub, dried off, and brushed my teeth while staring in the cloudy mirror. I erased the mist off it with my hand to see clearer. I spit the toothpaste out, rinsed my mouth, and deodorized. I wasn’t too much in a rush, but I really didn’t want to waste time. I went in the bedroom to put on my boxers and pants, pulling the belt through the waistline. I’m pushing my head through the top of my shirt. The bottom I tuck in my pants. Then I sat down to put on my socks and shoes at the edge of the bed. I fastened my belt up as I walk to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door up to get the milk for rice crispy. I cut on the television and pour the cereal and milk into a bowl while listening to the news. The world is going crazy. It seems like everybody’s acting a fool. I heard a preacher say, as many people die, there are many babies born. So many people cry, and when you die, usually men and ladies mourn. After eating, I put the bowl in the sink. I go back in the refrigerator because I wanted some orange juice to drink. I got the keys off the table but checking everything before I leave. I forgot to cut the iron off. That’s exactly what I mean. Then I headed for the exit. I locked the house door, and I walked to the car. I open the car door up. I got in and closed the ajar. The job is not very far, especially if I hit the interstate. Vehicles speeding by me so fast, just like me, I’m assuming they’re late…for what apparent reason. As I’m driving, I see a car swerving through the lines. Is it a drunk driver? I really couldn’t tell since I was driving behind. I wasn’t trying to find out either. But I’d remember the car. Almost to work, early that morning, in the sky I saw a star. It was just one star shining, brightly. But it reminded me. To say thank you, Jesus, for another day because of you, I am me. The alarm clock woke me up, but it didn’t get me up. What I believe is that I’d be lying there, still, if Jesus didn’t lift me up. I opened my eyes to see the things that I am seeing this morning. Also, I have the strength to stand on my two feet, stretching my arms out as I’m yarning. I have my health to give me the power to do some exercises. That’s something very important, but some people don’t realize this. I could take a nice shower and close my eyes as the water cover me. I’m blessed with a roof over my head instead of me living on the streets. I have food in the refrigerator to eat. Most people are unfortunate. I could taste food, swallow it, and speak about if I don’t like or love it. I could also hear everything. It’ll be difficult if I couldn’t. Every time I look at somebody, straight at their lips I’d be looking. I could lift my arm, extend it with my hand, and with my fingers I could grasp things. I got in my car and put the key in the ignition, put my foot on the gas pedal and drove in the fast lane. I’m driving to my job in my transportation that I’ve been blessed with. So, I could earn me some money for the needs and wants that I would like to get. Driving with my windows down, I could smell different odors in the air. Like if the stench is strong, wherever it’s coming from, it must be close somewhere. Also, God gave me the brain to think of these things because my brain sends signals. To every part of my body, communicating through my veins, and doing things like making my toes wiggle. I’m feeling good just for the fact that I could go through another day. So many people around the world couldn’t say this and just don’t have it this way…I’m blessed!

This doesn’t mean people who are living with or in certain conditions aren’t. This means, be thankful that we’re here. Be thankful that we’re above ground.

Growing Pains

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As far back as I could remember; I wanted to be a photographer. I took pictures of different things, but the sky is what I preferred. The way it changed was fascinating to me. Also, beautiful colors, like for example on a butterfly’s wings. Pure natural art is all around us, also our skin complexion. But let me tell you about my life. I was born in Texas. In a small town called Lockhart. A rural town near San Antonio. My parents named me John Herbert Newman but called me Herbert. Where they got my name from, I don’t know. But what I do know is that we moved from Texas when I was six-month-old. We moved to Springfield, Missouri. My mother told me that we had to go. It was my father’s decision. Something took place and went wrong. She told me when I was a little older. She couldn’t tell me when I was younger. My mother was a cashier at a grocery store. She’s been a cashier for a long time. My father was a construction worker. A person who put up utility poles and wires for the phone lines. James my father met my mother Keisha in the grocery store. She was on a cash register when he asked, what are you looking so serious for? I’m curious to know. If you were mine, you would be smiling. She still looked agitated as she rung up his food while picking up his grocery items. She had a sticker on her shirt that had her name on it; he said, Keisha. She looked up at him and he was smiling. He said, finally, your eyes I see them. They are beautiful because you are. But a smile would make you gorgeous. I don’t know what you’ve been told, and I really don’t care if you ignore this. I’m willing to make you happy. She said, how, when my mother just died? That’s the reason he didn’t see her in the store for a few days when he came by. He said, I’m sorry to hear that. I thought you were looking blue because of a man. She said, my mother had breast cancer; now he really could understand, why she was frowning all the time when he uses to see her. He asked her, do she have a man in her life? If so, still, it’s a pleasure to meet you. He said, if not, let me take you out and we can talk about it. Let me get to know you and you get to know me. If not now, could you think about it? She told him, alright. He gave her his number. She called. They went out and got acquainted. It was a beautiful moment; almost looked like an artist’s masterpiece that’s painted. Soon, I was born in August on the seventh day in 1968. Six months from then, we were headed to Missouri… the show me state. My father was a handsome dude. He was 6 ft. tall, muscular, with a kind attitude. A gentleman, I can’t recall anytime that I saw him act rude. He dressed well. The only time he looked dirty is when he came from work. His attitude was like, I look good although his clothes were dirty because he came from work! It’s not dirty money. It’s hard-earned money, with my hard hands. I’m working hard, lifting heavy material and things because I’m a man. He’d say, the last thing I would want to do is steal because it’s like a cycle. You steal from someone; somebody would steal from you, and you’d wonder where did it go? But he’d always tell me, you don’t have to work hard like me. These are the cards I’ve been dealt. Look at my hands, showing them do you want scars like me? I had to work hard for my money…blood, sweat, and tears. The blood was from the blisters and calluses. The sweat was from challenging work; and the tears from struggling and doing the job for years. Feed your brain with knowledge, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The Lord could give you a gift. You probably can’t sing now, but he’d make you a singer. Or you could be whatever you want to be, and with whatever talent. You must practice being the best to overcome a challenge. I was eating on a sandwich. I was four years old when he was telling me this. It was October when he asked, what do I want from Santa Clause for Christmas? I said, a Polaroid camera to take pictures with. He said, that’s an odd thing for a kid to ask for. Most children want toys for a gift. I said, I want to take a picture of you and momma together. Also, take pictures of the weather. Show you both the pictures I took. You could point out to me the one that you think look better. He said to me, Herbert. I will tell Santa. If he doesn’t get it for you, I will go somewhere and get that camera. Sure enough, when December came, Santa brought the camera and other things that Christmas. Sitting on the couch in the living room, my mother and father would be kissing. I took a picture of them locking lips. I took a picture of the Christmas tree and the stockings hanging from the clips. One picture I took of them standing up together with his hands wrapped around my mother’s hips. I took pictures of the snow and a picture of my father with a snowball. Getting ready to aim and to throw at my mother, also she had a snowball. My mother was a timid woman. She was beautiful and very attractive. She was short. I could say about five feet, exactly. But their chemistry was like magic. They were always stuck together like magnets. They were affectionate to one another. They were always smiling and laughing. We all went to church every week, almost every Sunday. A year later, cops came by our house; I think it was on a Monday. The cop knocked on the door. My mother went to it and said, who is it? I was at the table eating, grits, eggs, and bacon in the kitchen. The voice said, this is the police! We have a warrant for James Newman’s arrest. My mother opened the door. The cop said, this is James Newman’s address, right? She said, yeah, but why? They said, we got to question him about a homicide from a few years ago. My mother said, homicide?! The cop said, yes, murdered and killed, you know. From the kitchen I didn’t hear anything about homicide or anything else. All I heard was, this is the police! I wouldn’t understand anything else they were saying anyway, so I continued to eat. She told the cops, not my man! You must have the wrong person in mind. They said, where is he? She said, he should be coming home anytime, maybe around nine…he’s working. They asked, where he works? She gave them the name of the company. The last thing I heard was my mother whimpering at the door and saying; please don’t take him from me, to the officer. He said, if he didn’t do anything, you don’t have to worry about it. She knew that they left Texas years ago, but for murder, she’d truly doubt it. Not the man whom didn’t carry himself like a gangster. Not the man whom didn’t curse swear or get upset when it came down to anger. He would be the last person that someone would consider to be dangerous. If he did argue, he’d quickly walk away or just ignore. He was just different from other people that she’s been around, knew, or saw before. He was very humble. The cops walked from her to their police car and headed to his job. They got out of their vehicle there. My father walked up to them sweating like he was working hard. They said, Mr. Newman; I want you to come with us. Just get in this police car. Please try not to make a fuss. My father extended his arms out for the handcuffs. He was still calm and quiet. They put him in the backseat. He had a cold stare on his face, and he seemed as if he was tired. Not from work, but something was bothering him. It was unusual for a person to just walk up to a cop with his arms out with no resistance like, take me in. They took him to the police station. Once there, they got him out of the backseat. James looked at the two cops and said, is there something that you need to ask me? They said, save it for the recorder. You have the right to remain silent. Once we get you into this room, you could unzip your lips and to talk from being quiet. I remember my mother praying for my father not very sure about what’s going on. Still, she was trying to figure out if her good man could do something so wrong. The next day, my mother got a call from the county jail. I just remember the phone ringing. How she cried, it was him; I could tell. She kept asking, James, what’s going on about five times. I was on the floor spinning a top in circles when I overheard her say, somebody died. She was crying at the same time as she was talking. In and out of the bedroom to the kitchen she’d be walking. In her mind, she was wondering how long the detectives have been around and how long they have been stalking. She’d pace the floor, wiping her eyes, and rubbing her hair and face. She was making all kinds of facial expressions. I’m looking, hoping that she doesn’t come my way! She wasn’t using profanity, but she kept screaming, why, James?! After that day, it seemed like our life and the entire world changed. The sky wasn’t the same color to me. Everything seemed gray and dim. I knew that everything would brighten up, only if we had him. My mother came up to me with tears in her eyes, explaining some of the situation. She said your daddy’s going to be gone far away…back to our old location. He’s going back to Texas where you were born. I asked my mother, why? How long he’s going to be gone momma, as I slowly started to cry. She didn’t tell me why. But the way that she was talking on the phone, something very serious happened. We both cried together, wiping our faces with a small napkin. She picked me up by my hand with the top in it, off the floor, and sat me down. She was holding my hands, gazing at my eyes, and making sniffling sounds. She smiled at me and said, Herbert, I love you so much. Just know your daddy’s going to be gone. One day he or I will tell you for what. She gave me the biggest hug and kissed me on the left side of my forehead. I’m looking like, what just happened, as I’m thinking about everything that she said. True enough. My father didn’t come back home the next day or the next. Then weeks went by. The phone ranged. I picked it up as a person said that this call is from Texas. After the operator’s voice, my father said, hello. My mother told me to accept the call. I was excited to hear my father’s voice, and vice versa he felt. He screamed, John, my son! No longer will I call you Herbert. You are older now! With me gone away, it’s going to be weight on your shoulders. You’ll have to be the man of the house to look out for your mother. Just keep reminding her that everything is going to be alright and tell her that you love her. I never asked my father many questions, but I just wanted him to tell me…about what was going on. It’s like I’m looking, staring at the door, and waiting, daily. I built the courage up to ask him when he’s coming home, and that was it. He said to me. I want you to pay attention and listen close as you sit. He said, son. I did something terrible; but at the time I thought it was right. A lot of people would have done the same thing if they were in my position that night. You are my joy. You and your mother are my purpose in life. The only thing I should have done correctly is made your mother my wife. It’s still going to happen when I get out, so I’m not stressing that. Your mother is a strong woman, son; she always had your daddy’s back. I told myself from day one, no one is going to harm my family. Before somebody could touch you two, they are going to have to handle me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone for any reason; to me that is ludicrous. But this place is filled with people like that; it’s nothing new to them. I believe in the Ten Commandments. I believe there are rules you must follow. If we didn’t have rules in this world, this place called earth wouldn’t exist tomorrow. Picture a world without stop signs, without any consequences when it comes to crime. Animals would be running everywhere but we feed them and keep them as entertainment on the inside. Nothing would exist! Everybody and everything would kill each other. You could do it. No rules say, stop! There’s nothing to stop you, so everybody would suffer. But son, my time is almost up, so let me talk to your mother. I’ll call you Friday, son. Always remember that I love you. He still didn’t tell me what he done, but it was good to hear his voice. The last of the conversation he said, goodbye, son, and life is all about choices. It didn’t register in my mind then because I was very young. I learned early about common sense and to know the difference between right and what’s wrong. I remembered touching the eye on the kitchen stove when it was on. I jumped around, crying, wishing for the agony from the burn to be gone. It only took one time for that to happen and for me not to do it again. I didn’t want to feel the same pain anymore, so I stayed my little butt away from the oven. I was taught to look both ways before I crossed a street. I got to look to my left and my right, hoping nothing is coming in sight, or I’ll be dead meat. I gave my mother the phone. She seemed happy to be talking to him. She was smiling like she uses to smile when she was talking to him. I went to school thinking about my father no, it wasn’t easy. My mother worked overtime. She worked during her off days. She worked some holidays during different seasons. But it got to the point where it was getting too hard for her, so she called one of her sisters. My mother was the youngest of two. I never saw the older one in person, but I saw her picture. My mother never likes to ask someone for help because she was so independent. Her pride was very strong. She tried to hold on while my father did his sentence time. Her middle sister Monica stayed in Little Rock, Arkansas. Vanity is the word to describe her ever since she started her business and became her own boss. She had everything that a woman could want, but a lot of people could sense that she was miserable. She’d get mad at the world if something in her life went out of control. She uses to judge my mother because she was cashier. Thinking she’s better because she made more money. I remember an argument that they had last year. Monica came to our house driving in something brand new. My mother was happy for her. She told Monica, maybe one day; I’ll be able to get me one, too. Monica started laughing, hysterically. My mother said, what is so funny? Oh, you supposed to be better than me because of the differences in our money?! Yeah, I’m a cashier, and yes, somebody must do it! I didn’t forget where I came from, girl, I thought that you knew this! Monica said, but…my mother cut her off, and said, I can’t believe you’re judging me. I could sense a bad vibe about you when you came in this house and was hugging me. We weren’t born or fed with a silver spoon in our mouth or with the greatest parents. We weren’t born into wealth! What we been through, most people couldn’t stand it. But that’s what makes you mentally strong! That’s what makes you who you are! Life isn’t all about material things and your fancy car! Don’t get me wrong. It’s good to have wonderful things, but things come and go. There’s not too much of a difference between the new and the old. Wheels spin the same, right? Point A to B on a bike! But when you’re gone, it’ll still be here, think about what’s important in life. My mother said to her; never look down at a person unless you’re giving a hand to help them up. You never know the situation you would be in. Stop thinking about yourself so much. Monica said, ok, ok, Keisha, as that day went on. It was very difficult this time to call her sister on the telephone. She said, Monica, I need a favor. Possibly for three months, could you keep John? I got an eviction notice. In two weeks; we would have to be gone. She told my mother, no. My mother said, it’s ok. I don’t know why I called you. I was there for you when things weren’t going well for you but you’re going to need me one day. Monica didn’t have her own man. She was dealing with a married guy. She knows that he’s married but clueless about other women, also accepts when he lies. She could have taken me in. She had money, so I wasn’t a burden. My mother just wanted to get up on her feet and save her money while she was working. My mother didn’t want to call her oldest sister who had six children. They had different fathers. One deceased, one is a deadbeat, and one is sitting in prison. She’s married to a guy whom is the father of two of them. If she brought me around, they’d look at my mom like, what are we going to do with him?! But to see. My mother decided to call her sister, June. June said that she’ll keep me. My mother said, she’d bring me there soon. So, she took me to June’s house that stayed near Memphis, Tennessee. My mother knocked on the door. June opened the door up, smiling. I could see her husband in the living room watching TV. He got up smiling, walking towards us to greet us. They told us to come in, as the other kids came from all over the house to meet us. June’s husband, David, extended his hand out and said, what’s up, little man? I shook his hand, just staring at him and two rings on his big hand. He had a ring on his pinky finger, and the other is the wedding band. Both rings were gold and diamond. They were sparkling brightly on this big, black man. David said, I