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Prelude

America The Black Point of View: An Investigation and Study of The White People of America and Western Europe & The Autobiography of an American Ghetto Boy – The 1950’s and 1960’s – From the Projects to NAACP Image Award Winner, Volume One (Amber Books) by Tony Rose
 
 
I began writing this book in my mind while riding across America with my cousin Cornell Landers, now known as The Illustrious GranddaddyO ‘Valor Breeze’, during the summer of 1973.  A judge had told me that if I came back to her court again she was going to put me in jail to do some serious time and suggested that I leave town.  So I decided to escape and see if I could put my life together.  I had already secured my gun and I tell people all the time that if I hadn’t taken that Judge’s advice I would be serving the second half of my life sentence for killing that bitch.
 
I hit the road and Cousin Cornell, who was twenty, came along as my sidekick.  I had no idea where we were going or what I was going to do, but we must have stopped in every Black ghetto housing project along the way; East Cleveland, Detroit, South Side Chicago, East St. Louis, we felt at home in the projects, and I’m telling you, there’s many a home girl today who could tell you stories about two cats from Boston with no shirts on, traveling in a 1969 gas-guzzling VIP Plymouth car, white with a black top, and ropes holding the doors closed, that she bathed, fed and fucked.
 
I had already received a couple of short story writing awards at UMass Boston and I was thinking about writing a book about me, my mother and father and my life in the projects.  So while me and Cousin Cornell were in Amarillo, Texas trying to get some pussy, the title “America the Black Point of View” came to me. And I saw it, I saw the vision; the book would be about Black people and how we live in American ghettos and why.  While I was thinking about that, I realized that even though I was only twenty-two-years-old
and had already lived a lifetime, I had a whole lot more living to do before I could write that book.  Then life kicked in and the real adventure, that would last forever, well at least for forty-two more years, began.
 
One other thing I learned on that long summer road trip that would end in Los Angeles, California for me, where I would metamorphosis into a beautiful butterfly; besides the fact that one day I would write this book, happened in the New Mexico desert.  We came to some red muddy water along Route 66 and decided to turn off the highway and follow the red water into the desert and find the source.  Eventually we came to a big waterfall in the desert that emptied into a big round red muddy water hole.  We got out the car and climbed to the top of the waterfall and I said to my cousin let’s jump in; he said there could be sharks or alligators in that shit, and I stripped down and said fuck it and just jumped in.  From then on I always called life, ‘just jump into the water’, ‘just jump into the motherfuckin water.’ It’s like trust in God and everything will be alright.
 
The thing was, you know those things that hang down from caves with pointy edges, well, there were things that came up from the bottom of that red muddy water hole with pointy edges.  When I jumped in my right arm scraped against the edges of a pointy thing, I still have the scrape mark, it bled pretty heavy at the time; well, four or five inches to the right and my ass would have been impaled on that thing and I might possibly still be there today, impaled underwater forever, with some pointy thing up my ass.  In fact in some ways I’m still there at that red muddy water hole, it was a near miss, and that means that a part of me, the other part of me, the old part of me, is always still there.  So, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, forty-two years after Amarillo, Texas, ‘America the Black Point of View.’