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The Temple of Ramesses II
Ethics is the bastion of our hope.
It is a dictum that comes from the greatest imagination ever, gracing every book of faith, every construct of freedom and democracy, peace and progress. It gives form to nature and magic; hope, dreams, prayers and promise. Ethics will survive when malevolence and apathy by definition will not. A detached intent may seem natural but such is caustic, grave and even critical i.e., the phrase, "survival of the fittest" - there is always someone stronger, wiser and luckier lacking the best intent! Survival's true decree is taught from birth; that we care for and nuture each other and so as an edict to progress and survival, life's backdrop favors an ethical theme.
“Potent Enterprise” is a narrative of the Potential Enterprise Company Newsletter or E letter as some refer to it over the past years. It offers for one, that the new laws and regulations being enacted locally, nationally and internationally is the “long road” to solving our dilemmas. That being so, consider that this myriad of laws is an indication of our confusion and inability to manage our journey with a method that is easily clear, meaningful and productive. “Potent Enterprise” is about three hundred and fifty pages. The variety and quality of the commentaries with over-twenty five color graphs and charts guarantees to address every current and major political socio-economic curiosity. I hope you’ll agree.
RoadWindows discusses the role and impact on society of the ethical theme from antiquity to the present - from the great prophets and philosophers to the decrees of the Sultans and Merchant Princes to the Magna Carta and the U.S. Constitution. Black crime venues are even discussed to complete an intriguing historical and methodical descriptive on the subject of ethics as it has historically applied to business and living pursuant to the potential it offers us for the future. At over four hundred pages it is loaded with scores of footnotes; numerous references to the research of world renowned scientists and anecdotes woven by spirited characters to ignite discussion. Please ask for these two books that explain world history from an ethical perspective and demonstrate that a more prolific future is possible.
You can tell a lot about a man by his tools and his toys.
The theme is also Potential's precept:
Make Money, Be Happy via Business and Sports
"Everything for Truth"
"No Matter What ..."
The Memoirs of Leslie T. Lox
One agent said to me, "What I want to know is, who would write a book about ethics. I'm curious - send me the first three chapters of your memoirs."
A year later: Why did she say that ...? I am now approaching four hundred pages ... of what promises to be a lengthy and interesting narrative I respectfully compare to classic titles brimming with intrigue and adventure. A few excerpts follow below; please read more in Potential's newsletter.
Everything for Truth
Preface
It is an axium someone must have said before I did and it tells; "Be careful of what you do today, for what you do today is forever?” Consider that forever is an adjective sometimes ending a fairytale or a fantasy as in “forever after”. It might also describe a dream or something whimsical i.e. I wish this feeling could last forever or I wish our love could last forever. But the word "forever" used here, ransoms meaningful acts to portend an ominous, even lethal backdrop. The following question comes to mind; what can an idea containing the two words “forever” and “abyss” as suggested in Potential's commentary hold for the reader or worse - society in general. Further, what event(s) could reflect such woe and clearly yet? Better to describe the antidote to an ill idea and with fewer words still. I know what you’re thinking, but it would be called ethics.
Introduction
If the fortune of a scientist is to master science, the fortune of a sportsman would be to master his sport; a soldier to master the battle and for a hunter, to master the hunt. If I have mastered peace and serenity, I am so a peacemaker. It is an accomplishment easier to say than to do, easier to believe than to know. It takes constant study of the best principles and their constant application to achieve mastery over anything. As such, the road to mastery fills countless hours and even years of discovery and learning. It is an arduous journey on which one embarks and it is interminably more important than the fortune that awaits its end. That is because it is during this journey that we ingest into our being the experience of those events that shape and tune our spirits in relation to the rest of the universe. And it is the spirit, as we are taught in the great books of faith, that lasts forever. The journey is different for everyone because the fortunes they pursue are different; they pursue them for different reasons and with different methods. If asked to explain exactly that which I pursue and why, the answer would be my sovereignty. So, because it affords me the peace of pursuing the things I deem are important. But sovereignty does not comprise a singular designation. It does however incorporate two of our most basic instincts; empathy and intuition to happen which are to bond with and care for others - also defined as ethics. That equation asks further; what kind of person would I be if I did not offer to share what I am and know because for one, I am nothing by myself and secondly, because liberty and the peace of mind that comes with sovereignty have no benefits in the singular? Success is meaningless if there is no one to share it with or nothing to compare it too. Therefore sharing makes for the better person and it is that better person whom can make the best contribution to the whole. Further, when we know and accept that responsible sharing is a duty benefiting ourselves as well as others we witness the breadth of ethics as it opens up new vistas and our journey becomes the greater adventure.
September
I was standing before the judge facing a felony assault charge. The detective slid the evidence, - a pair of long haircutting shears with what appeared to be dried blood reaching two inches up the blades from a manila envelope. I winced. That entire encounter had been choreographed, from my timing, to my hand - twisted, angling unnaturally and weakly the shears that bounced off ... rejected by two jackets, a sweater and vest ... the deliveryman's muscular shoulder. The encounter was faked. The idea was to affect a result with this false scenario and I did not always have to know what that intended result was though I usually made it my business to have some idea ... But there was no way I would or did violate this gentleman and pierce his jackets and two inches further. Whatever the dynamics of this scenario ... an important factor for me was that this was my “Training Day”. It was an important test of many that comprised seven years of training, the idea of which was to establish a background that would allow me to fit into any scenario and right now, the idea was to get me inside the "big house". Where with such learned attributes from within and more I could access future situations; profile and dissect necessary variables and perhaps create a model the pros could work from. Along with the above, also understand the extreme personality types and views that comprise extremists and insurgents etc. and you understand the depth of my job and my preparation requirements.
What it doesn’t explain however is why, after selling my properties including seven acres with a half-acre pond and forty years of serious and difficult work I’m broke. I was under oath for what was described as a very big deal and I took that oath seriously as was intended. I was trained and tested to determine if I could, among other things, realize boundaries and distuinguish between acts that were frivilous and unnecessary and those that mandated intervention and think and make decisions under pressure. There was a "litmus test" my handler had given me that I often used to validate a situation and if the situation didn't comply ..., it would be circumvented or avoided altogether. There was usually a reasonable explanation for the situations I encounted and often, more than one. Acts like the one above were few and their purpose was to ultimately protect someone or a situation. As expected I could easily discern the possibilities with this delivery person and obviously would leave the gentleman unharmed but the idea was to also leave my handlers with their desired options.
A diverse skillset and being thorough was part of my method and two of several reasons I had been chosen for this journey. Honestly, with respect to that court case as it related to my "Training Day" I also owed society a small debt from my days of hustling on the fringe? Anyway the idea was that upon the successful completion of smaller tasks I would be given larger more important ones with more responsibility. This phase had already started with individuals, then groups and would grow slowly to include larger demographics. Everything had to be in place for this growth; my judgement and execution had to be on target and conform to the specific original guidlines of my handler, explained to me face to face. Just as important; conclude that the character and integrity of the mission had to be maintained.
They would all be difficult navigations with my having been chosen for my judgement and fairness and because I professed to be doggedly forthright. My oath was administered by chosen authorities with witnesses in a public venue. I took the oath, swore to it and its mandate guides me to this day.
I was downstairs, back in the holding cell before this young athletic cat, healthy, about 6 feet, came in. He looked well-kept and smart. I watched him sitting there, surprised that he was being accused of stalking and robbing old ladies for their lotto money. There’s a difference when you’re sitting in a holding cell because you protected someone or even committed a brazen crime as opposed to stealing from the handicapped or the frail. I looked at this cat for a moment who could have played football, basketball, baseball, on the collegiate level maybe, his choice.
It was a short time before he started "ranting" on about this "twenty something" white cat who was in for possession or something. It seemed the brother was trying to provoke the other cats towards some kind of action against him, maybe to cover up his own embarrassing bust. Clear was that if the brother managed to set something off … we would all go down for it. He sat next to me ... who was surprised that the other cats and the OG's from upstate weren't checking him. That meant that I had to consider securing this situation in a way that would not interfere with my own mandate. I had enough on my plate without having to suffer this cats foolish, irrational acts. I got up, bumping hard into the brother and looked at him. “What's up young buck? Got a problem with me too? That’s the second time …?” The OG’s knew what I was doing. I could hear the guards before he even stood up and engaged me. “Two to one?” Naw, I got even money on the skinny one.”
This would be my first lesson of many; that the situation, it's variables and culprits would be led to my doorstep. Never would I have to search them out. These incidents or assignments if you will, would also test my readiness for the next encounter. Turned out the young white cat was a doctor, in for writing questionable prescriptions for addicts. We became friends for the short time we were in the same section.
Back upstairs in the court room, the detective sensing that the mysterious “dried blood” on the professional haircutting shears was “too much” gathered them back into the envelope and into his pocket. “We don’t need this. We have enough ...” and left. It may have taken a minute for the lawyers to discuss the details of my case with the judge before I could plead guilty. “I’m sorry your honor and I apologize for all of this. I believe these are atypical circumstances and I take responsibility for them. I think that it would be in everyone's best interest if I endured the sentence and not burden the court system with the tenure of probation.” There was a vacuum the sharp rap of the gavel cleared, “I sentence you to one year in jail.” A week later, every inch of my face was bruised, scratched or had stitches. My hands were no better.
I was a few days into my sentence when I had cleared another “test” - protecting this very young Puerta Rican cat - well kempt, clean, nice clothes - in with this serious dope fiend type for a day or two. I think it was a favor to another guard to send this "clean cut" type a message to disconnect from the dope fiend dripping with larceny. After I'd taken the fiend down I felt the wrath of ten guys for my getting it done. It was dusk, the sun was seting behind the brick and barbed wire as the guard drove me to the infirmary listening to B.J Thomas’s “Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head” on the buses cassette player. He was almost smilling. I looked at him wonderingly.
At four months into my sentence I had stopped counting those violent encounters coming at me at eighty-nine. As I would remain forthright ... filtering incidents for ethical choices conducive to my mission, my face looked like I had small pox and would not clear up until near the end of my sentence. Compared to some, it was a short bid in a county jail, but still a tough place to be tested for ones ethical principles and moral resolve. And it was the beginning of a long journey that my handler a few years earlier cautioned me would be a "really big deal".
A Faith for Any Season
I remember being all of ten years old and it was getting dark early. Boasting heavily of fall, the summer was done. The trees were bare, their falling leaves swirling about. We were playing football on the grass in the projects in the last of Saturday’s light. I could see Father Dolan walking the projects paths making his rounds through the buildings, checking in on the parishners of the Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church; making sure that everything was good at home and that they would be in church on Sunday. He waved just as I caught a Joe Namath pass “Willie Mays style” for a touchdown. The cats went “Whoaaa, game time”. Father was gone when I looked back. Probably visiting my house, Tommy’s on the fourth floor who were Italian and an Irish family on the first. No more than a minute in each then on to the next building. Our neighborhood could be a postcard for the movie, “The Bowery Boys move Uptown”. I was a torch bearer for the high mass on Sundays, studying to become an altar boy but my Latin was holding me up. I remember those days as fun; the pranks, the softball games and even though I wasn’t a full-fledged altar boy the others let me hang out. Learning how to prepare and assist the priest for mass I had access to the chambers behind the altar where some incidentals and things were kept and where the priest prepared for service. The life looked both interesting and dull if that's possible – but that wouldn't matter as I was in the fifth grade with no aptitude for Latin. What was interesting was that my mother and grandmother were Baptist. However, there were no Baptist churches nearby so my grandmother insisted we attend and join the Catholic Church. One way or another we would get religion which appears to have worked out. My siblings and I were confirmed in the Blessed Sacrament and both my sisters were married there. I cannot overstate the role the Catholic Church played in my life back then and the extent to which it complimented the morals and values I was being taught at home. The Catholic church where I lived had such an impact on me, that I had actually considered confiding to Father Dolan that I wanted to know more about joining the priesthood. I contemplated the idea for over a month or two before I had actually entertained the notion. What could be more satisfying than helping others? And Father Dolan's attitude and manner made it seem like it wasn’t at all unpleasant. I actually passed by the rectory one day and started to go in and ask for Father Dolan so that we could have this discussion. I stood across the street for maybe ten minutes before I changed my mind. Maybe it was the Latin.
October 2013
It was the 2013 World Series, just past six in the morning and October brisk. The Red Birds were up two games to one and I was in Harlem to meet "Guss" as he finished his night shift on the Long Island Railroad. We sat in his “Limited edition Camaro” on Lenox Ave. where it met 125th Street facing north, watching the sun rise over Lenox Ave. Jimmy Smith’s “Messy Bessie” was stirring the avenue to life. There’s something about the jazz organ that takes to Harlem like a fish fry on a lazy downhome afternoon though this was early morning as we sat drinking coffee. He looked straight ahead… “So, what you gonna do? You straight for cash? How much you need?” "Guss" looked like a black Yul Brenner; reddish tan, 5’6”, ridiculously muscular with a chiseled face as two audacious scars on his left cheek accented green eyes. The saying, a woman’s pet and a man’s fret immediately comes to mind if you didn’t know his true artistic and creative demeaner. “Three bills an it’s goin back into Nilopub.” Nilopub was a publishing business we had started. We were still trying to get our “legs” and to do that we experimented with other ideas; cosmetics and promotional things. I think you call it pivoting. “No problem. Here, I got three with me. Need more?” “No.” didn’t want to tell him I still was holding on to some dough from the sale of my houses, one in the Bronx and one around the corner on 119th Street. I also still had the house and piece of land I bought in N.C. … looked like something out of “Little House on the Prairie” with a half acre stocked pond. But business is business. I was the idea man and doing all the leg work and it would be unfair if I had to liquidate myself and he didn’t put up a fair share. Anyway I would eventually sell everything including my Mercedes and move to South Africa.
“Les man what is it exactly that you do? Ain’t seen you in a "coons age" … now we got this business thing going. We been tight since forever. I know when you’re onto something. Your insights into what’s goin down out here are uncanny ... what’s trending in the community, this modern slavery thing … Where you getting all this info from?” “Just tidbits that might be helpful to you and your family – for your ears only.” I half smiled. He stared straight ahead. I could see he was tired, “Well, where we goin with this cosmetics thing?” “Ordered some stuff … premium lotion now; oils and labels. We already have most of what we need left over from the last batch. When the new stuff arrives, we’ll sit down, bottle up some more to go with our standard shampoos and creams and get it all out there.” “How long this gonna take?” “A few weeks ... a month.” I looked over at him. “You know this brings back the old days.”
Some items from our cosmetic line. They're quite good, use them myself
“Yea ... you got that right.” He was tired. Almost twenty years ago we were two young “fly” high school cats on the hustling fringe with fat wads of money. I remember us steppin out on a cold November Friday - "Guss" in a tan Aqua Scutum leather trench coat customized with a blue seal skin collar and belt, blue raw silk pants falling just over some black ostrich skin loafers and topped with a blue beaver Kangol. But my man would be outdone. My custom eggshell leather pants fell just over my burgundy Phil Knonfield gators. My one of a kind white “Bly” with its psychedelic red blue and gold inlay lay snug under the softest cashmere coat ... collar up. All that topped by a jet black beaver fedora from 125th Street, its fine hairs blowing in the breeze. Our women, "Naomi" and Marlene would be in for a treat. That was the idea if we didn’t crash first. We were “zooted” up leaving my building. “Give me an hour start and I’ll meet you at the “Gate”, upstairs.” “Got it.”
Marlene was to meet me near the turnstile inside the terminal on the New York side of South Ferry. When I saw her, she came on through – stunning smooth chocolate, million-dollar legs looking like she had no business standing in the Staten Island Ferry terminal amongst the secretaries, business types, vagabonds and hippies scooting their way home. She looked fantastic; dimples accented even white teeth, wide bright eyes and a “Betty Boop” hairdo with an outstanding thirty-eight “D” cup. She wore knit suits, the latest fashion trend for “A” list sisters that hung out with the “Jet Set” and it all suited her “extremely ..." When we got to the “Village Gate” McCoy Tyner was just getting warmed up. "Guss" and "Naomi" were sitting up front holding our seats and holding hands across the table. Marlene caught it right away. “That is so cute. Les, look at your friends.” I wasn’t embarrassed. I thought it was cute too. I should add that Marlene had a genuine bubbly personality and a quick wit that could "burn" you if you slept her. She went to Fashion Design High School and I would surmise that the main reason she was with me was because I looked like I was heading somewhere in life ... was interesting and maybe a little fun. Add to that, I stayed clean, knew my way around, had money to burn and good friends, things she would put in perspective later ...
At about three thirty, we stood embracing against the backdrop of the lighted New York City skyline on the ferry back to Staten Island. I was six feet and my arms felt good around her waist. At five seven she pushed one of her legs between mines while looking me in the face. “You know Les, I’m kinda used to you stay'n clean and have'n nice vines and all. And I see you get a few hello’s when we pass people around town and it’s all good, you’re ok.” Her thirty-eight double D’s warmed my chest. I kissed her gently, “Babe, it’s all a game and it’s wide open. A person can be anything they aspire to if they want to. It’s about desire.” But compared to what she was about to tell me it sounded like a line out of Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat”. I was about to let it fly but she stopped me. She stepped back, coat open, legs that should have been bronzed, one lifting to adjust a strap on a shoe not unlike the three inch heals you’d see dancers wearing. I could see the New York City night skyline without leaving the width of her eyes. They were bright and engaging and with her words may have been demure, but what she meant was this; “Les honey, what you see is no joke, I could be on the cover of Vogue. I’m an A plus student, a junior and already getting scholarship offers from colleges including FIT”. She adjusted her knit skirt to an acceptable three inches over her thighs, an extra inch for me. Her eyes opened wider, “and all of this is the prize”. She winked, “I’m patient but I’m certainly not stupid. And because ok doesn’t cut it, you need to step up your game.” Her eyes opened wide when she smiled as if to say, “I’m telling you!”
The lessons come best when one is attentive and listens like yours truly should have been doing. Thus, those chickens she hatched would come home to roost - and would again until I wised up. The point was that she and a few others didn't have time to wait. If we are brave enough the universe will give us what we want ... not only what we need but the things we dream of. It’s a matter of knowing "where you're going" balancing with "what you're willing to do" to get there. It must be a great secret that we each determine our fate because I see too many people submitting to things and situations that should have no power to influence them and they make bad decisions - and to be fair sex, money and material things are strong enticement. But it only starts with that desire. It is our choices in answer to those wants that architech our life force ... moving us to different scenarios; people and things that increase and intensify us - then knowing what to do next. Thank you for viewing the Potential website. Please visit Potential on Facebook or Twitter and/or email me below. *
Marlene was to meet me near the turnstile inside the terminal on the New York side of South Ferry. When I saw her, she came on through – stunning smooth chocolate, million-dollar legs looking like she had no business standing in the Staten Island Ferry terminal amongst the secretaries, business types, vagabonds and hippies scooting their way home. She looked fantastic; dimples accented even white teeth, wide bright eyes and a “Betty Boop” hairdo with an outstanding thirty-eight “D” cup. She wore knit suits, the latest fashion trend for “A” list sisters that hung out with the “Jet Set” and it all suited her “extremely ..." When we got to the “Village Gate” McCoy Tyner was just getting warmed up. "Guss" and "Naomi" were sitting up front holding our seats and holding hands across the table. Marlene caught it right away. “That is so cute. Les, look at your friends.” I wasn’t embarrassed. I thought it was cute too. I should add that Marlene had a genuine bubbly personality and a quick wit that could "burn" you if you slept her. She went to Fashion Design High School and I would surmise that the main reason she was with me was because I looked like I was heading somewhere in life ... was interesting and maybe a little fun. Add to that, I stayed clean, knew my way around, had money to burn and good friends, things she would put in perspective later ...
At about three thirty, we stood embracing against the backdrop of the lighted New York City skyline on the ferry back to Staten Island. I was six feet and my arms felt good around her waist. At five seven she pushed one of her legs between mines while looking me in the face. “You know Les, I’m kinda used to you stay'n clean and have'n nice vines and all. And I see you get a few hello’s when we pass people around town and it’s all good, you’re ok.” Her thirty-eight double D’s warmed my chest. I kissed her gently, “Babe, it’s all a game and it’s wide open. A person can be anything they aspire to if they want to. It’s about desire.” But compared to what she was about to tell me it sounded like a line out of Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat”. I was about to let it fly but she stopped me. She stepped back, coat open, legs that should have been bronzed, one lifting to adjust a strap on a shoe not unlike the three inch heals you’d see dancers wearing. I could see the New York City night skyline without leaving the width of her eyes. They were bright and engaging and with her words may have been demure, but what she meant was this; “Les honey, what you see is no joke, I could be on the cover of Vogue. I’m an A plus student, a junior and already getting scholarship offers from colleges including FIT”. She adjusted her knit skirt to an acceptable three inches over her thighs, an extra inch for me. Her eyes opened wider, “and all of this is the prize”. She winked, “I’m patient but I’m certainly not stupid. And because ok doesn’t cut it, you need to step up your game.” Her eyes opened wide when she smiled as if to say, “I’m telling you!”
The lessons come best when one is attentive and listens like yours truly should have been doing. Thus, those chickens she hatched would come home to roost - and would again until I wised up. The point was that she and a few others didn't have time to wait. If we are brave enough the universe will give us what we want ... not only what we need but the things we dream of. It’s a matter of knowing "where you're going" balancing with "what you're willing to do" to get there. It must be a great secret that we each determine our fate because I see too many people submitting to things and situations that should have no power to influence them and they make bad decisions - and to be fair sex, money and material things are strong enticement. But it only starts with that desire. It is our choices in answer to those wants that architech our life force ... moving us to different scenarios; people and things that increase and intensify us - then knowing what to do next. Thank you for viewing the Potential website. Please visit Potential on Facebook or Twitter and/or email me below. *