The Adventures Of Cleveland Jones

By Thomas D. Williams

The Adventures of Cleveland Jones

Thirteen-year-old Cleveland Jones accompanies his father to Africa where Mr. Jones has been hired to teach chemistry and biology at an Episcopal high school in Johannesburg. While their flight is refueling in Sierra Leone, Cleveland is kidnapped by members of the Revolutionary Army and separated from his father. He later escapes and spends the next six months making his way alone through the jungles. This inner-city kid from Newark, New Jersey learns helpful lessons from the natives he meets and the wild animals he encounters as he maneuvers across the terrain. Even though his journey is often treacherous, Cleveland uses intuition and personality to push forward through the unknown. Follow Cleveland’s adventures while he experiences the adventure of a lifetime and enjoys the majestic beauty of the beautiful continent of Africa!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798369408957

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The Adventures

of

Cleveland Jones

Thomas D. Williams

Copyright © 2023 by Thomas D. Williams

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.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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.

Rev. date: 10/13/2023

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

The number of mourners who left Bethany Baptist Church and joined the procession to the cemetery was significantly reduced by the cold mid-December rain that had been changing back and forth to snow. Nevertheless, Ronald Jones made it very clear to both the funeral director and Pastor Scott that, in spite of the weather, he did not want the solemnity of his wife’s graveside service cut short. Edna, only thirty-three years old, died five months after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Although the mounting medical bills had financially drained all of the couple’s healthcare benefits, Ronald managed to secure enough money to cover funeral expenses. During the ride from the cemetery, his thoughts once again turned, as they had done so often recently, to their four children: Cleveland, eleven; the twins (Rachel and Robert), nine; and Crystal, five. Ronald was determined to keep them under his care even though the financial future did not look too bright. He was scheduled to be laid off at the end of the month, along with sixty-three other employees, from his job at Baldwin Pharmaceuticals, where he had been working for almost seven years as a chemist, It had become quite apparent three months earlier (September 2008) that the company was going to have to make some drastic downsizing in order to keep the doors open in the midst of a fast-shrinking national economy. Ronald’s thoughts were interrupted by the high-pitched voice of his youngest.

Daddy! Daddy, I’m talking to you! Crystal shouted.

Sorry, baby, what is it?

Aw, she just wants to know if we’re going to have ice cream at the church, said Robert, tickling his little sister.

Maybe, maybe not, Cleveland said, not waiting for their father to reply, But I’m sure everybody’ll like all the delicious food they serve, right, Dad?

Absolutely, the thirty-seven-year-old widower responded, turning sideways in the front passenger seat while smilingly giving his eldest a fist pump, and I’m sure there’ll be enough fried chicken and peach cobbler for everybody!

Much to the dismay of Edna’s uncle, Leroy Thornby, who was on the board of trustees at Bethany Baptist Church, his nephew-in-law’s attendance was rather irregular. Nevertheless, Edna would drive all four children to Sunday school, teach one of the classes, and then sing in the gospel chorus. Ronald was usually still in bed when his family left for church. After frequently working overtime five days a week at Baldwin, plus handling luggage at Newark International Airport from 3:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m. on Saturdays, he did not have much time to enjoy the home front. For the past seven years, the Joneses had been leasing a three-bedroom, two-bath apartment in the Society Hill section of Newark, New Jersey. Ronald’s salary at Baldwin, plus his Saturday job, provided enough income for them to be financially comfortable even though his wife stayed at home to take care of their four children.

Edna Thornby had just completed her second year at Seton Hall University on an athletic scholarship. Although she was the shortest member (five feet eight inches) on the women’s varsity basketball team, she was a superb shooting guard. At a party after the last game of the 1994–95 season, Edna met Ronald, a native of Coatesville, Pennsylvania, who was in his third year of medical school at Howard University in Washington, DC. To say that Ron and Edna fell in love would be understating their whirlwind relationship. When they decided to get married just eight months later, Leroy and his wife, Joan, were upset, to say the least. Both, being retired teachers, had high aspirations for Edna, who had been living with them since she was five years old. The child’s mother and father were killed in an auto accident. Two days after their modest wedding, Ronald and Edna moved to Washington, where they lived for the next five years while raising three children. Academically, Ronald was doing very well, but the couple was struggling financially. It became apparent to them that his part-time job as a laboratory technician at the med school was not enough; therefore, the final year would have to be placed on hold until some future date. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. when Ronald completed his last exam. The rain was coming down hard, and he paused to decide whether he should make a dash for the covered bus stop or wait for a let-up. During the moment, Ronald casually perused some of the brochures on the bulletin board. His tired eyes widened as he read a particular one with great interest. Stuffing the brochure into his pocket, Jones smiled as he ran to the bus stop.

It was ten thirty when he bounded up the worn-down marble steps of the old three-story late-nineteenth-century brownstone and unlocked the first of three doors. Instead of casually ascending the stairs to their third-floor apartment, he practically ran all the way. It was only after stepping inside that Ronald finally slowed down because he knew better than to disturb the sleeping children.

Hi, babe, Ronald said, kissing his wife. I want to show you something that just might be a solution to our financial problems.

Wow! Now that would really be a relief, Edna responded while gently pushing her husband to the small efficiency kitchen, where she had his dinner plate in the warm oven, but first, I want you to start eating.

Here, take a look at this, Ronald replied after saying the grace, and then tell me what you think. The brochure that generated rising enthusiasm in the Joneses’ little apartment was about Baldwin Pharmaceuticals, a company located in Union, New Jersey. Chemists were being hired at the starting yearly salary of forty-seven thousand dollars. Even the fact that Ronald would have to spend extra money for his transportation up to New Jersey for an interview did not bother him too much. Chemistry was his major at Lincoln University, where he was a dean’s list student for all eight semesters. It was well after midnight when the couple finished talking and turned off the bedroom light. Within a few days, Ronald rushed to get several important things accomplished: called Baldwin Pharmaceuticals for an interview appointment, called Uncle Leroy for permission to spend one night with him and Aunt Joan, and made round-trip travel reservations between Washington and Newark.

As the big Greyhound bus inched along in the early morning bumper-to-bumper traffic, the still-sleepy med student had been dozing when, for some strange reason, while his head was leaning against the window, he opened his eyes wide enough to take in the wording of the colorful sign over the doorway of a little storefront church. It read All things are possible if you trust in God. Suddenly, Ronald no longer felt tired. His thoughts focused on the times when, as a freshman back at Lincoln, he was required to attend chapel every Tuesday morning. Not that Ronald was so religious, but he did enjoy the choir at Hosanna AUMP Church, a small off-campus church that had been serving the college community since the 1800s. His prime motivational reason for going to Hosanna was to see some of the beautiful girls in attendance.

2

Two years after the couple and their three children had moved to Newark, the fourth child was born. Up to that point, Ron’s return to medical school was definitely a priority, and the projection was that it would happen within four years. Now, with the addition, that plan had to be set aside indefinitely. Nevertheless, Jones did very well at Baldwin Pharmaceuticals, and the salary increases, plus bonuses, were enough to allow his wife to stay at home with the twins and Crystal. Eleven-year-old Cleveland was in the fifth grade at Hawkins Middle School, where he was not only the smartest student in his class but also the first player off the bench on the school’s basketball team. Oddly enough, it was Cleveland’s mother who kept him interested in the game. His dad’s sports focus was primarily football. Ron realized early in their marriage that basketball was definitely not one of his skills. Edna used to beat him whenever they played one-on-one, but she would let him win whenever she detected a decline in his interest. Therefore, he had no problem with his wife coaching their son in the finer points of being an effective point guard. Even with having given birth to four children, Edna always tried to take good care of her body by working out at least three times a week at the YMCA. Undoubtedly, this was primarily the reason why the athletic mother was able to demonstrate so many moves on the basketball court.

After dropping off the twins and Crystal at her uncle’s house on that sunny July morning, Edna and Cleveland drove to the Newark Boys/Girls Club. They were eagerly looking forward to participating in the usual full-court twenty-point games. There was never a problem of not having enough players because Saturday was when a lot of teens and young adults came to the outdoor courts and engaged in friendly banter while they showcased both well-honed and rusty skills. The team of Edna, Cleveland, and three teenage boys had already won two games and was about to start a third when Edna decided to sit it out. Her replacement, one of the spectators whom she knew, gladly stepped up. OK, Raheem, Edna shouted from the sideline as her team took the ball out, Show ’em what you got! About ten minutes later, she suddenly felt a fleeting, sharp stomach pain. Edna paid little or no attention to it because her team was behind fourteen to twelve. Find the open man, the excited mother yelled to her son as he dribbled across the half-court line. Cleveland found Raheem spotting up beyond the three-point arc. The former Shabazz High School star took the shot—nothing but net.

During the drive back to Uncle Leroy and Aunt Joan’s house, the aspiring point guard talked nonstop about how he was developing a keener sense of getting the ball to the open man without looking at him. And did you notice how I faked a midrange jumper, cross-dribbled around that dude, and took it straight to the hole for the easy layup? Oh, and how ’bout when I hit Toughie with that above-the-rim lob and he slam-dunked it? Edna’s responses to her son’s post-game ramblings were reduced to ums and smiles. Then, while they were waiting for the light at a busy intersection, Cleveland continued his monologue with So did you see how I took that handoff from the quarterback and ran thirty yards for a touchdown?

What? Edna ejected, looking at her son quizzically.

Just testing to see if you’re really listening to me, Mom, because ever since we left the court, your mind seemed to be a million miles away!

I’m sorry, sugar, the mother responded, kissing her hand and touching her son’s face. I was wrapped up in thoughts about how good you’re becoming at basketball. Humph, by the time you get to high school, you’ll be able to bump with the best of ’em!

While Edna and Cleveland were walking from the courts to their car, the pain in her lower abdomen returned and lingered for nearly a minute. This caused Edna some concern, and she was eager to get home and talk to her husband. It made no difference that Ronald had not yet graduated from medical school; his wife had always valued his advice and comments in all matters dealing with the health of their family. Three days later, Edna was able to get an appointment for a full-body MRI examination at Sloan-Kettering Hospital in New York City. The results were not good. Edna was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

The Joneses tried their best to make the rest of the summer as pleasurable as possible. During Ronald’s three-week vacation, the six of them were always together. Day trips, as well as a couple of overnight stays with grandparents in Coatesville and cousins in Atlantic City, were carefully planned and enjoyed. After all, the hosts had to be special people to endure the constant movements of three lively sub-teen children; eleven-year-old Cleveland was the exception. He seemed to be more interested in spending a lot of time watching his favorite television programs, specifically Animal Planet, Wild Kingdom, and National Geographic.

On the Saturday before Labor Day, the Joneses attended Baldwin Pharmaceuticals’ annual cookout, which was given for the express enjoyment of employees and their families. The event was always held on the company’s expansive rear lawn, which was set up for kiddie rides, horseshoe pits, and assorted table games. Everything was free, including food and soft drinks. While Edna was busy monitoring kids at the rides, Ronald and Cleveland sat at a picnic table, having a couple of hot dogs. Hey, big guy, said the perspiring father, giving his son a playful punch on the arm, I’m surprised you haven’t been over there shooting baskets with some of the other boys.

Nah, I thought me and you could—

You and I.

Oops, sorry, Dad. Uh—you and I! I just thought you and I could spend a little time hanging out together if it’s OK with you. Ronald was only mildly surprised because he had felt that Cleveland was having a difficult time dealing with the likelihood of losing his mother. Not quite two weeks before, both parents together talked to him about the illness. And the highlighting thing that Cleveland said while hugging his mother and sobbing was It’s too bad Daddy’s not a doctor yet, Mommy, because I know he would save you. Tears welled in Ronald’s eyes and streamed down the side of his face.

Great, Cleve! C’mon, let’s go over there and show those guys how to pitch real horseshoes.

Near the end of the workday, Ronald left the laboratory after checking the quality of a new high-blood pressure generic drug and went to his office to write up a report. He had just settled down when Emir Patel, a colleague whom Ronald counted as his closest friend at Baldwin, came rushing in and flopped like a sack of potatoes into the cushiony leather chair that Ronald often used for his half-hour power naps. For almost a full minute, neither man said a word. Since it was not unusual for Patel, holder of a doctorate degree in chemistry, to stop by his friend’s office at the end of the day, Ronald gave no apparent notice to the entrant. With his head still back and eyes closed, fifty-six-year-old Patel said in a slow and deliberate speech, "As I’ve told you so many times, Ron, I consider myself to be extremely fortunate to be a part of Baldwin’s family of employees. When I came here with my parents and older sister from India, I was only six. Although my father had worked as a chemist in Bombay, he couldn’t get hired in his field in New York. So for two years, he waited tables at the Curry Pot, an upscale Indian restaurant in downtown Manhattan, and my mom got a job cleaning offices at the Hodge Building, which is also in Manhattan.

Ron, I know you’re wondering what crazy Emir’s up to now. Well, just bear with me, my friend, because what I’m trying to do here is construct a verbal framework around a huge picture, which I’m sure will help you to clearly see and understand why I’m so melancholy today. Jones was quite used to Emir’s frequent praise of the company and how lucky everyone was to be working in such an environment. Because of Dr. Patel’s constant heralding of Baldwin’s employer-employee policies, many of his other colleagues usually tried to avoid casual conversation with him. The senior chemist was one of three persons who interviewed Ronald for the entry-level position seven years ago, which he would not have gotten had it not been for Dr. Patel’s reminding the other two interviewers that the company was an equal-opportunity employer. They got the hint, and Jones was hired.

The Curry Pot’s owner, Emir continued, always required his waiters to spend time talking to customers. You know, that extra smile and verbal attention? He believed it was good for business. One slow rainy afternoon, my father served a gentleman who told him that he was stationed in India for two years during World War Two. Call it a coincidence if you want, but the customer was a chemist in the United States Army Medical Corps. Of course, that little revelation led to the two of them talking for almost an hour. Pardon the cliché, to make a long story short, the customer was impressed with my father’s ability to carry on a conversation dealing with chemistry. And when Dad revealed to him that, for the past two years, he was totally unsuccessful in securing a job, this gentleman—no, this kind, understanding, benevolent gentleman gave my father his card and told him to come for an interview the next day at three o’clock and to bring with him a copy of his college transcript and whatever other pertinent documents. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you that the diner who gave Dad the card, the gold-embossed card, was none other than Dr. Franklin C. Baldwin, son of the founder!

Wow, Emir, interjected Ronald, sitting straight up in his seat with renewed interest, you mean to tell me that the man whose name is on the big bronze plaque in the lobby is—

That’s right, my friend, one and the same! Good luck really came our way. Within a couple of months, we moved from a cramped two-bedroom apartment up in South Bronx to a three-bedroom apartment in South Orange! Karma, Ron, karma! Our parents, especially my father, always drilled into my sister and me that, as long as you reach out to help others, good fortune will come your way in one form or another. By this time, Jones had put the unfinished report that he was working on aside. He found Patel’s story extremely interesting, especially now that he clearly understood why the senior chemist exercised personal influence in his hiring. Everyone knew how long-winded Dr. Patel could be. But there seemed to be a thread of sadness that he had not yet woven into that afternoon’s verbal fabric, and Ronald was curious as to what it was. At any rate, he had made up his mind to sit right there and wait, even if it meant being late getting home.

I’m sorry I never had the opportunity to meet your dad, Emir. But from what I understand, he was a great chemist.

Not only a great chemist, Ron, but a great person, Emir replied, quickly wiping his eyes. And I knew early on that I wanted to be a great chemist too so that he might be very proud of me. Unfortunately, Dad died of liver cancer near the end of my senior year at Rutgers. He was only fifty-seven. His benefactor, Frank Baldwin, took time away from enjoying his retirement in Naples, Florida, to attend my graduation. Dr. Baldwin died a few years later. I think he was ninety-one. My sister had already made her mark by the time I was a freshman at Rutgers. We both went there on academic scholarships. Rena was in her second year of interning at St. Francis Hospital when she met, and later married, a neurosurgeon who, I might add, became a physician more out of pressure coming from his grandfather than out of love for the practice of medicine. George, my brother-in-law, comes from real old money. It’s reported that the Brockingtons came over from England in the early 1700s and settled in Philadelphia. The two Brockington brothers had been smart bankers in London who seized the opportunity to make even more money in the colonies. By the time the Revolutionary War was over, the Congress of the United States of America and a lot of manufacturers had begun repaying loans. George’s great-great-grandfather moved his family to the Trenton area, where he cleared two hundred acres of woods fronting the Delaware River and built a thirty-room mansion. As patient as he had always been at listening to his friend’s random stories about the good old days at Baldwin, Ronald’s patience today was being strained. However, he tried to select his words well so as not to make Emir feel bad.

Good buddy, I find all this very interesting, said Jones, rising from behind his desk, but I have to leave now. Edna and I have a dinner engagement that—

OK, OK, interrupted Patel, quickly standing, just give me about five more minutes max, and you’ll definitely know why I’m upset. Ron, Baldwin Pharmaceuticals is caught up in this economic crunch that’s affecting the whole country. Now, I know this is not coming as a surprise to any of us who have a television set, but this stuff is hitting close to home, Ron! When I got my doctorate in chemistry from Rutgers, I had no desire to explore any of the many offers made to me by universities, private industries, and even the national government. Baldwin Pharmaceuticals has been the center of my life, man! Why would I even consider going somewhere else? As you know, Ron, my wife and I have five children. The last two will be graduating from college over the next couple of years. We still live comfortably in Livingston, and up until a couple of months ago, I was pulling in consultant fees from seven pharmaceutical houses all over the country. Unfortunately, the down economy has caused them to discontinue various services. Hey, stop checking your watch. I still have a few more minutes left. OK, here it is. For the first time in its ninety-one-year existence, Baldwin Pharmaceuticals will probably have to downsize starting sometime this fall.

What?

Yes, you heard me correctly. The company’s been feeling the effects of the recession since last spring, but the board of directors felt that Baldwin would be able to ride out the storm until the economy turns around. So there really wasn’t a cause to press the panic button. After all, the company came through the Great Depression of the ’30s without so much as having to lay off a single employee! When my dad came here, he used to hear some of the old-timers talk about how sensitive the front office has always been to the personal needs of everybody. But as everybody here knows, Ron, some terrible things started happening in July over which Baldwin had no control. Four of the company’s big clients decreased orders by as much as 30 percent! Now, although that might have been a cause for great concern in the smaller pharmaceutical houses, our board decided to wait and see how August would work out. Well, we all know what big shocker came.

Yeah, said Ronald, shaking his head, Apex Drugs, our leading client, closed many of its health stores across the country.

Not just many, my friend, seventy-eight! Can you imagine the impact that’s definitely going to have on us here at Baldwin? Emir then glanced at his watch, quickly rose from the chair, clasped Ronald’s hand in a firm handshake, and smilingly continued, Hey, but I don’t think the layoffs will really happen. After all, the company has a historical image to uphold!

Chapter Two

By February, the entire country was in the midst of a deep recession. Unemployment lines were long every day, and there was little or no sense of embarrassment shown by the thousands of people who crowded into the agency offices for financial assistance. It was not uncommon for people with limited educational backgrounds to be sitting beside or standing in line with people possessing as many as three degrees. No one cared about social status or former career achievements. The current economic situation for everybody was bad, with little or no prospect of improving anytime soon; therefore, the topic of most conversations was always the same—Barack Obama. The stimulus package that the recently inaugurated president had promised during his campaign gave hope to people all over the nation, but there still wasn’t enough stimulating done to curb the extremely high loss of jobs. And one of the coldest harshest winters in many years did not do anything to lift spirits.

The swirling blizzard-like snowflakes made Ronald hustle as fast as he could from the bus stop to the unemployment office, where he was to report on the status of his job search and also receive a monthly check. All the counselors were busy, so Ronald took a ticket and leaned against the wall. One would perhaps think that judging by the fact that the huge room was packed with clients, there would be a lot of talking among them. However, except for random coughing and nose-blowing, there were very few sounds; everyone seemed to be totally absorbed in his own thoughts about how bad the economic picture looked. Two and a half hours later, Ronald left the agency and headed home to prepare dinner for the children and himself. Yes, the widower, out of sheer necessity, had become quite a cook—king of the casseroles. He discovered that, as long as he poured melted cheese into whatever he was putting together, the kids loved it. And a green vegetable was always part of dinner.

Ronald glanced at his watch when the bus stopped three blocks from his apartment. He still had a couple of hours before going to pick up Crystal at the kindergarten exit. While waiting on line in the neighborhood food market, Ronald’s attention was drawn to Valentine’s Day advertising posters that hadn’t yet been taken down. Suddenly, it occurred to him that today, February 16, was Cleveland’s birthday, and there was no mention of it as the father got his four children ready for school that morning. Nevertheless, Ronald got off line and went to the bakery area to buy a chocolate layer cake.

As usual, Cleveland and his father were washing and drying the dinner dishes while the twins and Crystal were enjoying their allotted thirty minutes of television before going to bed. The three older kids had spent their daily required one and a half hours doing homework. Regardless of the economic ability to do the wonderful things that they used to enjoy as a family, the Joneses managed to stay focused on matters that held them together.

Cleve, said Ronald, giving his son the last plate to wipe, again I want to apologize for not wishing you a happy birthday this morning. I really should’ve remembered to—

Hey, Dad, I’m a big boy. And I know it’s not easy for you these days. Humph, the last thing you need is some wimpy kid whining about a missed birthday wish. I’m twelve years old now, the same age as Jesus was when he went into the temple—learned about that in Sunday school. I realize a lot of things are not as good as they’d be if Mommy was—

Were, interrupted Ronald, hugging his son.

Oh yeah, were—if Mommy were still with us and you still had your job at Baldwin. We know it’s not easy. Mr. Crenshaw, my social studies teacher, always talks about how hard it is for people to get used to the idea of being out of work. He said even a lot of the lowest-paying jobs are taken by people who have college degrees! Ronald truly admired how his children were holding up under the poor economic conditions without constantly complaining, especially after having to move from the three-bedroom apartment in Society Hill to a two-bedroom on the other side of town. Nevertheless, the distraught father felt that it was extremely important that his four children have good sleeping accommodations in order to perform well in school. He slept on the pullout couch in the living room, Rachel and Crystal had one of the bedrooms, and Robert and Cleveland had the other. Conserving in all areas got to be a way of life for the Joneses.

Well, maybe I’ll hit the lottery. Ronald laughed, pushing his serious-faced son on the shoulder. Then you can get a haircut, huh? Because both you and Bobby have edges that look like hedges!

Eh, Dad, that’s not important now. Besides, there’re lot of guys at school who’ve already started growing afros. They found out that trying to keep the braids looking good was too expensive. Who knows? Maybe me and Bobby can—

Bobby and I.

Right. Maybe Bobby and I can grow big ’fros like the one Papa has in that picture! Cleveland was referring to his grandfather, Ronald’s father, when he was playing trumpet in the Lynn Hope Sextet, a group of Coatesville fellows that went on to hit it rather big