To Whom It May Concern - There's no egg knocker or callused fingers here...

I'm possibly at the worst place ever in my life. It's so hard to gauge things when you're distressed because one horrible situation is hard to compare to another - but this is probably my most challenging moment. I'm alone. I have been since the last week of December. I've had very little contact with anyone. I've been out of town a couple times but not for resolve but to act like I'm just enjoying myself with the company I'm keeping but it's not the case.

For several months I was the fool thinking I'd be getting back with my ex-girlfriend but I read that all wrong. She was actually done and I couldn't read the writing on the wall. It wasn't as if she was playing or fooling me - quit the opposite. Her message was loud and clear - it's over, but in my way I thought there's no way. I'll talk reason, confess my love, and we'll pick up where it was good and forget all the rest. No can do. That shit strategy was hit with resistance and I still couldn't take it for what it was.

I'm so lost. I have no one to turn to. I figured I'd pull through like I have always done but today I have a moral meter. At one point or most of my life I'd do WHATEVER it took to get results. Things have changed and I'm trying to live with integrity, dignity and with feelings. I don't want to hurt anyone else, ever again, so I can get up, come up, or rise up. I need help. For the record, it takes a lot to confess what I just confessed to. Self-pride, honor, and dignity go out the window when you speak words like that. But today I'm saying it because the first order of business is to let myself and others know that I recognize that I'm flawed, damaged, and in need of a tune-up.

I have a strong sense of pride and self worth but I'm not going to lie to anyone and act as if I got this all under control. I know that some will read this while cracking their hard boiled egg with a little knocker and cup, while drinking their OJ, sipping their Columbia blended coffee, beans they had flown in, while checking their stocks and bonds this morning and yell, "Darlingggg, Mr. Quijas is confessing to the social media world that he is fucked up!" Will yes it's true, I am. I had every reason or resource not to be here, but I am. I had every reason or circumstance happen to me, to be here. But don't count me out. I'm a fighter and have things going on but they're not happening as quickly as I'd like or hope but that's OK.

Let's put it this way, if I was a carpenter or builder, a ship builder, who always talked of creating the largest luxury ocean vessel ever and had one drink after another in both hands. Never a hammer, socket set or welder in my hands then after a year, maybe two, or ten you'd say, "You're full of shit you aren't building, you're just drinking." I haven't drank in a year or close to it. I'm no Aristotle Socrates Onassis, ship magnet, but I am doing. I did write two books, started Project 100 People, and created a program or service that pairs up dentists and oral surgeons with individuals in the community that need their teeth fixed to restore their confidence, courage and smile. All those things are a very slow process and they're starting to get to where they need to be but in the mean time I'm hurting.

I don't need to explain, but I am. I just do a lot of things that others don't do. One of the lines I hear, "There's no such thing as quick, easy money." I know that. What most people don't know is that I've been working on things, or work on things that take several years to get to market or unveiled. So if it doesn't look as if I'm doing what you do, I'm probably not. If there isn't any callused fingers or palms, they're not on my fingers but on my brain, that's where all the work takes place.

The Man...Jeff Mckinnel...

On Thursday as I was preparing to go to my childhood friend's son's Celebration of Life Service I received a call from a dear friend just as he found another lifelong friend who'd passed away. He physically had just found him and called me. I only say this because that morning, Thursday Sept. 13th. before the call, I was down, real down and was questioning certain things about life, my life. Then the call.

It was almost, or was, a sign to me. Jeff Mckinnell was my friend of over 40 years. I was with him almost nightly in 2007, 2008, 2009 when he was running a spot by my home in Lee's Summit. Jeff was a beautiful soul. I can hear him now,"Captain Q! How are you? Cappy, El Capitan! Mikey..." That voice was so caring and compassionate, I loved him. Jeff was about 5 years older than me and I met him through Tony Carr and Kenny Schriemann so our memories weren't that of me as just a little kid but friends of his friends, which made me a friend not just a little kid from the neighborhood.

My biggest memory comes through that of my daughter. When she was diagnosed with leukemia, a blood disease, that demolishes your immune system. We were isolated to the house because, there was no immune system. So we couldn't trust that any restaurant would be up to par on their cleanliness or trust that they'd do the right thing. When Jeff, Brian Donigan (owner of Beauchamps), and Joe Beauchamp heard about our situation they said nonsense. They would open up a dining room exclusively for my girl. No others just us. They made my chld, my precious little girl, the VIP of the place.

Jeff who along with Brian are fabulous cooks. Brian with that tomato sauce and meatballs, and almost everything and Jeff an all round expert in many dishes created ANYTHING she wanted. Joe being the man with the Chef title oversaw the operation and came out with what he thought she'd like as well, and Joe has a big presence so the three of them made my child feel so special and forget she was sick for a minute. They would handle all the dishes and whatever she ordered then they'd throw in several unexpected dishes to her surprise. They loved on us with their food. These actions took my child's pain away for a few hours and they made her feel special when she wasn't feeling so special, like all little girls should.

To say I'll miss him is an understatement but to never hear that, " Ole Capitan...Whaz up!" weighs heavy on my heart, but I know that good man, Jeff Mckinnell, is serving up a signature dish high above. And smiling with that shit grin he always had. Jeff you're the poster child for that saying, "If you ever met him you'd never forget him" because he was that great of a person and he held a presence, a presence that if you were in it you knew you were OK, because he was beautiful like that, I love you brother man, until I see you next time and hear those famous, want to be a Good Fella, words "...ora di mangiare!"

Jordache Jeans and Milli Vanilli

TWO 20 YEAR OLDS...YOU GOT IT WRONG AGAIN.

Writing is a great distraction. I wrote a headline earlier after writing a big article, that I lost, and took it as a sign not to post the article. I rewrote one regarding Rachelle's baby boy Tyler. I wrote WHAT A HEADLINE TO HAVE ABOUT YOUR CHILD, it was meant to include what a BEAUTIFUL headline to have about your child. So true, a true statement for a headline, but today I write quickly and with purpose. So I see if there's a sign in what I write. In this case it was the word beautiful that draws me closer.

The actual headline has 2 meanings. First the way it sounds. Simple meaning simple translation. The second is how someone who lost a child Sunday might, might, read it. WHAT A HEADLINE TO HAVE ABOUT YOUR CHILD? WTF? I say that because 3 days later or even a year later it's so surreal you sometimes say out load - WTF? When it happened to us I had to call a priest, Preacher David Vasquez, and my old friend Sister Kathleen. I even reached out for Mr. Vance Stasevich, who was once Father Stasevich. Why? Because I've grown up believing in God and all his workings but - WTF? We just about lost my daughter, Landen's sister, to leukemia for three+ years and it was ugly, if we didn't have enough - WTF?

I'm sorry, if this sounds horrible but this is my little peddly site and I can say WTF, WHY take Tyler? There's so many others you could take. His mama feeds the homeless, his grandma Ruby put up with all of us, and his uncles are good men - who could have went a different direction early on - but didn't. They're good good good people. You could have left them alone.

Take a bad kid. Or take a bad kid with a bad mother or father. Hell, reach in the the third curtain and take the bad kid, bad mom, bad dad, and bad grandma, with bad uncles - not Tyler? WTF? Take the whole bad clan if need be, leave Tyler out. You got it wrong, again.

I can't understand it and neither will Rachelle, or you, if it happens to you - God forbid. The only thing I can say is, Thank you God for not making Tyler suffer for years or a prolonged unfair battle. Thank you. Sure you'd want quanity but not if the quality of life goes down. I'll have someone or another send me a thing because I say loudly - you got it wrong again God. God I'm sure you have your plans and your ways but - WTF?

I along with my child's mother had to make a choice on how long to keep Landen on life support. There wasn't much discussion, my kid loved life and the journeys it put him on. So there weren't many other alternative solutions, he was brain dead. I was alone with him begging for Jesus, God, Abraham, Noah, Moses, Mary, John the Baptist, or Joseph who got no big bible time and played second fiddle to Mary and John his brother - please snap my baby out of this. No. I gave my child his last rights, not knowing if I was doing it right, but did it all the same. His mother and family are Jehovah Witnesses but I did what I was taught what I thought was right.

I mean really, my kid was just 1 of 42 skateboarding deaths in USA in 2012. WTF? You had to take my boy when there were 350 million other selections? He was a good kid, it was like 350 million people lined up on a wall and you just happen to pick 42, one of them being my kid, come on. That's just WTF bad? I think more people get killed by Vampire's wearing Jordache Jeans while driving motorcycles drunk listening to Milli Vanilli - Girl You Know It's True. What are the odds on that? My luck or should I say - unluck.

Mr. Stasevich said it simply and said it best to me. "Michael I'm at peace that Mathew doesn't have to make any hard or small decisions ever again. - "Do I speed to get home? Am I going to cheat on my wife? Will I lie on my taxes this year?" Such a little compartment to put such a life changing subject in but he was so right. He did what was right for his head, advice I'll never forget. Thank you Coach Stasevich, you taught me when I was young and again as an adult.

Please, if you feel the need to send any God's gonna get you stuff - save it! (We'll explain Jordache Jeans and Milli Vanilli later kids).

Saddles, A Pint of Death and Taxes, & Unbecoming Behavior...

I’ve got a quick story for you. I'm out of town and see an old friend. An individual who I hadn’t seen since the last time I was in California. This individual simply substituted any customary salutation for one word, “Why?” Being the mild manner guy I am, I half grinned. “Why put your efforts into something so morbid?” He was referencing Project 100 People, I got upset, I won’t lie. I wouldn’t have skipped a beat had he not put morbid into the conversation. I love the English language, it’s beautiful to me. I like words and I like stories. They’re a maze, a gig saw puzzle for my brain. Finding them and stacking them in a way that soothes the ear and rolls up one’s imaginary tongue and straight to the brain is gratifying to me. Pleasing could be another description. 

I agree that death is scary and the thought is troubling. But I've been there and faced the scariest, the most troubling, darkest hours you could ever imagine. But the forces that be put that on me. I didn’t chose those circumstances. But since it was me, and as long as I'm still breathing, no one will ever forget my son or the twenty beautiful years he made this place a better space. And that goes for anyone else's child or loved one too. I've got a voice and it's loud enough for "mine" and yours too. So before I get asked to leave another place and get all hyper-focused on your face, pick your words carefully. Putting morbid in a conversation that’s going to lead into my son or the countless others who I’ve had to watch wrestle death, is going to offend me, I can’t help it. Using morbid with mine, isn’t so kind.

I simply asked, “How many kids do you have?” I knew the answer already.

“None, my man.” He noticed my ears getting red. “I wasn’t trying to be rude Mike.”

“I know. You decided not to have children because all the sun and fun that this place offers a man like you.” I said. “But if you have never really loved then you should watch and pick your words more carefully.” I replied in a condescending tone.

“I’ve loved.” This person shot back. “Who are you to say I’ve never loved?”

“I don’t doubt you’ve loved, Jack Off, but I said never - really, loved.” It was getting heated. “If you’d been listening, or picking out my RIGHT words you’d get it.” It was getting good now. “You’d have caught the really, loved part!”

“Wow!” He spurted out, with his anger starting to surface. But I was all over him before he could speak another word.

“If you’ve had no children, you’ve never really loved!” My voice was starting to raise. A statement I was going to defend to him or any one for that matter. Until you have a kid or kids you don’t know the true meaning of love, it’s just my opinion. But be on the bad end of it, when you’re have to take life support off one, you’d sell anyone except that child down the fucking river! Your mate – gone. Your extended family members – gone. That kind neighbor – gone. Your priest, preacher, or clergymen – fucking gone! The love for a child supersedes all.

Long story short, I was asked to leave Saddles Steakhouse at the MacArthur for unbecoming behavior, it was, I agree. But the artichokes and fried sausage at Hopmonks Tavern was much better than bad manners, bad company, and a bad pick of words. Like I said, I was fine with the flagrant foul that got me kicked out of the game because the way I see it, if you haven’t seen me in a long time start with a salutation as you might start with a light salad. Don’t jump straight to the Double Lamb Chops Chump (I’ve never had one for the record) because you just never know what one might consider a heavy topic.

Well that’s all I “gots” this morning, I hope your weekend is safe, sound, and silly. Submit a story. And love the one you’re with!

P100P Tribute Template

(Name) “(Nickname)” (Last Name) lived where (location) passed away on (date) in (City, State) at the age of (age).

(Name) was a (adjective) to (relationship to writer).



(Description) and (memory) of subject:



(His/her mantra, slogan) living example of - regarding life:.


(Short story/example) of subject’s impact:

Subject loved:


You could always expect:

The world was a better place because why?


In closing they meant what to you?

Include a picture or something that represents them.

No fiction please. If you want to write it anonymously, feel free

The Elephant, The Reasons, & The Father of the Year - Mr. Greg Morgan

I've started this tribute platform for my son, Landen Chase Swanson, who passed on January 13, 2012. I did it to keep his legacy alive and I did it thinking that others may want to use it also for the same reasons. It was ready three years ago but I just really utilized it. It was ready three years, three years and eight months, after his passing. In total it took me nearly seven years to actually get things rolling. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm learning as I'm going but there's an elephant in the room, on this site, and I can no longer avoid it, addressing it.

I've received several messages from family and friends giving me praise for the concept of Project 100 People They tell me that I'm kind and caring for providing a stage for people to deal with grieving.  Such nice things but in all reality my inspiration was motivated by my own regret. I have so much regret, or should I say had, when it comes to my son, Landen. First I need to paint the picture, most everyone I keep in contact with through social media had no idea that I had a son in San Diego, until he passed. It's because, I assume, that I wrote hundreds of blogs, articles and interviews but never once did I mention my boy, my son, Landen. It wasn't because I was ashamed, embarrassed, or more importantly, that I didn't love him. I made the decision when he was younger not to disrupt his life. Or mess with the dynamic of his family setting in California. I figured that I'd connect fully with him as an adult. I had my reasons, but as life often goes, we're not promised tomorrow. So what I put off, a solid relationship with my child, became a ball, giant ball, of sorrowful regret, a price I have to pay.

Landen has a fantastic Dad, Greg Morgan, who met Landen's Mother when she was pregnant, big pregnant. I say that because that says a lot about him right there. Greg was such a man in 1991 that he took Bethany, and her precious package, as his. He was there with her in the last trimester of her pregnancy and he raised Landen. To be brutally honest, I was embarrassed that Landen got stuck with me as a father, after I met Greg. Being in the presence or in the likes of Greg, I think anyone might drive off and say to themselves, "That is a good man, that family is lucky." When I first met him, within sixty seconds, I thanked God. Thanked him that my son was blessed with that man as his meter, his example, because I looked at the life he was providing them, a life that anyone would want to have, give, or live. They had a man that takes care of his family very well. Above all, Greg works hard for them, loves them, and raised a child that's his but genetically mine. But who the hell do you tell that to, what I just wrote? As a man, there's certain times that you're privileged or graced, to see someone operate and navigate better than you. But more than that, there's times that you're blessed with the ability to see past your own bravado, man thing, and learn a thing or two. Greg made me want to be a better man.  

Besides not being able to express my sentiments with anyone, I was looking at my children with Tammie and thinking you poor son's of a gun. It was the most self-evaluating period ever. I met Bethany in San Diego in 1989. I and several other semi-retired drug dealers were laying low after an investigation, that I was the focus of or brought on, due to my relationship with a murderer. This in it's self was enough to feel bad for Landen, his sister and brother, Kaylee and Christian, and anyone that knew me. After 1989, I went back to Kansas City to pick up where I'd left off. Again carrying on with the same poison, but this time I had incorporated drug ripoffs to my resume. It's horrific to write that, just the shame alone is enough to go into hiding, but no need for that because I actually had to go into hiding for all the bent meter stuff I did. Staying alive is more of a motivating factor than shame, usually. 

You can see where this was a huge problem for me to even look in the direction of my babies. I was an outlaw and then there's this guy Greg, doing incredible things for his family, not to his family, like me. In all reality, I was running with my kids because there were a lot of people who wanted to shoot me. The only thing that I had going for me, if you can call it that, was the blessing or pass from a few guys in other places than Kansas City. In 1996 I headed back to California, family in tow, to add another gig to my resume. Driver for hire, for a group called the AFO or Tijuana Cartel. Right? Call me Dad?

Now, if Greg wasn't a great father, which he is, all he had to do was stand next to me and he'd get the Father of the Year sash, crown, and a year long, unlimited pass for one, to Boomers Miniature Golf Experience in Vista California. Even when I stopped doing things, I still messed up. We left San Diego and went to Los Angeles because I pissed off a guy in Mexico named, Ivan the Butcher or something with butcher attached. He got promoted to "National Distribution" (just made that job title up) for AFO, then subsequently found out what I had done with an ally of theirs in Sonora in the early 90's and demanded that I go to KC and open up some connections. But instead of - just say no, I go and take the Butcher's goods and thought I'd just by-pass the money exchange part - wrong. So the butcher wanted to butcher me up, but some friends intervened and told me it was time to go, leave San Diego. It was the last straw, for them and me. And now I ask you, why would I mess that up for Landen? He had a great life, hitting the progressive or lotto in terms of a dad...a man, a role model, a good person. 

After that episode with the men in Mexico, I decided to straighten up for good. I started the non-profit services, the advocacy group, and followed up on the entrepreneur trail. But little did I know I was about to fight the toughest chapter ever. The loss of so many things, in regards to my precious babies - life, health, and broken hearts. Then on top of all that, I got my extremities busted and bent up. Everything that I just spilled out has been eating at me for nearly 30+ years. It was just recently, that I've tried to get it out and let it go. I want no more secrets or regrets. it's debilitating. I want a great life and I think I deserve to hold my head high today and not be embarrassed, internally or publicly, I'm a good person, I've just made mistakes and I've had my share of poor choices, but no more from here on out.

I want to thank Bethany and her husband Greg for blessing Landen with a great life. He saw things, did things, he lived life. Greg Morgan you're an incredible man, you're family is incredibly lucky to have you as a father, a husband, and I was blessed to witness a great father, husband in action and putting his family above all else.     

Anthony Dale Carr

From 10-23-2014, Please excuse my language too.

I swore I wouldn't write another story or thought again, but here I am doing it again. I've come to the conclusion, for better or for worse, that I have things to say and if I don't write them down or get them out, I'll carry those thoughts or perspectives around with me like heavy luggage. Some might say that there are several other healthy ways to deal with life's curve balls, but for me, writing works. So here I go.

Today I received word that my best friend passed away yesterday. The man who called and told me didn't call for that reason, he just casually mentioned it. Well I must have freaked him out because when he dropped it in the conversation, -"Did you hear TC passed away?" I lost it.

I cried instantly, not out of sadness, which I was, but out of crazy madness. This guy on the line did the same thing regarding Randy in the early 1990's.
"Oh by the way, did you hear Randy died over the July 4th weekend?" As if Ball's Thriftway Grocery Store had hamburger on sale. "By the way, did you see those beef prices at Chaz Ball's Thrifty?"
The exact way he'd do it again some 21 years later with Tony.

This man who was on the other line had an issue for years regarding me and Tony, then me and Randy. Tony and Randy, both who lived on 39th Ave. took me under their wing when I was 7 or 8 yrs. old. It pissed more than a few others off. Both had things to offer and if you live in an environment where someone has something, you want a slice. Both Tony and Randy had something. Tony had the toys, motocross essentials and other similar things but more importantly he had a head on his shoulders. I mentioned the tangibles first because that's what you'd notice first. But if you spent any time with him you quickly realized he was smart. Lets say you were a criminal, if you were to have a head like that in your group, you'd go further but Tony wasn't that way. He was down the line, straight down the line and if you weren't, he had nothing to say to you. By all means he'd give you a salutation or two but that was it. Tony wasn't stuck up he just didn't tolerate nonsense. If your trajectory wasn't aligned with his, well he had nothing to do with you. I don't think it was snootiness it was just actual and factual, you were a waste of breath to him. His thoughts or logic was that if you're a "fuck up" and it wasn't his concern, then be a fuck up down the road. His chit chat was next to none because where we lived, too much chit chat can get you into trouble. Something he taught me at an early age. Which probably has more than a few scratching their heads, loading their guns, and adjusting and setting their scopes on me due to the fact that I want to be a writer and tell my stories. Seriously.

Then you had Randy Patti. As I got older and my trajectory got off, I was always around Randy because Randy didn't discriminate. He was like the slogan from Lady Liberty, "Give me your tired, your poor..." Randy was Randy. He loved everyone and if your sights and his didn't see eye to eye that was fine by him. If that off sighted-ness became a problem for him he didn't care, he'd just pluck your eye out, smiling and carrying on. To the tune that you'd be left alone with a white pole,cane, dipped in red and a dark set of glasses so quickly that all you'd remember, while Googling, using the Braille system for the visually impaired, if it was TIMBUK 2 or 3 that actually sung, My Future's So Bright. I say that because Randy was quick with responses, and so slick and cool, and calculating, that he would have been singing or humming while permanently stealing your eye sight. Word for word, tune by tune, that was Randy Patti - "My future is so bright I gotta wear shades..."

Tony Dale Carr, was my best friend. Some people, who've known me for years, might scratch their heads when I say "my best friend'. They will base that statement or the scratch on the fact that most of my current friendships, less than 25 years, had never met this great man. As a matter of fact, it had been at least a year since I talked with him and longer since I saw him last. But it didn't matter. He was my best friend and always will be. Let me explain.

Sometimes in life, if you're lucky, you'll meet a person who will change your life forever. This change can be good or bad, but life changing all the same. The time frame can be a brief moment, a short segment, or an extended period that covers a life time. My story is all good, a physical time frame that spread over a dozen years, and lessons that have lasted a life time. If you have a moment I'd like to share it.

In 1977 I moved into a neighborhood in Kansas City, KS called Rosedale. I was only 7 or 8 yrs. old but well aware that this place was notorious for the mean men that it produced. Our street was 39th Ave. and it was well known throughout the city for what you could and couldn't do on that strip of concrete. I was young but well warned of the dangers of this place from concerned city historians, soon to be ex-neighbors, who spoke of the place as if it was the closest thing to hell.

To my amazement it wasn't that bad when we arrived. The neighborhood was worn down but nothing I hadn't seen before. But what was different, was the people who occupied the homes on the block. They had a certain pride in their stride. It was as if they were part of something. Something that you couldn't actually see but something you could feel. It didn't consist of materialistic goods, top notch luxuries, or precious metals or gems but a sense of pride.

So I accepted that there were no luxuries in Rosedale. Just people trying to survive day by day. It was what it was. But to my surprise I found a gift, a precious gem, a treasure in the kid who lived directly next door to me. That treasure came with a name and it was Anthony Dale Carr. Tony Carr, as most people knew him, was six years older than me. At first he didn't have much to do with me because I was 8 and he was 14, not a lot in common at that age, but that quickly changed. We became brothers. He took me under his wing and became the older brother I never had. Tony included me in everything he did. Racing motorcycles, the swim team, the everyday motions of life that extinguished the boredom that a place like Rosedale could easily drape you in.

At first it was just a friendship that passed the time. But after the years went by it became obvious that Tony was teaching me things that would equip me with life skills to overcome the environment we lived in, the problems I might face, and the man he expected me to become. His friendship, sent from God or not, was meant to instill the great qualities that all men should have. He became my teacher besides my friend.

From the age of 8 to 20 years old he was the man in my life. Coming from a single mother household, who worked two full-time jobs, Tony, along with his mother Mary and stepdad Stan, became the set of eyes who watched over me in a neighborhood that could easily swallow the best of saints. I was taught who to watch out for, who to trust, and who to run to incase of help. They became my second family. So the treasure I referred to was much more than a one and done, it was a priceless commodity that paid dividends for many years.

Tony tried to teach me how to cut grass, work on engines, drive, dress, groom, talk, carry myself, politeness, manners, but most importantly he instilled a set of values in me. A moral meter so to speak. Now I have to admit when I got older I deviated away from much that he taught me because I made that decision to do certain things that I wasn't suppose to. I shamed myself but more importantly I felt I had shamed Tony.

Tony had taught and gave me all he could. At a certain point you become responsible for your own actions. You can't blame anyone else or put it off on something other than yourself. Today I feel like I lost out on his kids, his wife, his mother and father because I carried around guilt for the certain shortcuts that I pursued as a young man. Although I went years without talking to my best friend he never stopped loving me. It was obvious every time I resurfaced in his life. We picked up right where we left off and he never judged me for the dark roads that I had chosen years earlier.

I'm signing off by telling the world a few things that Tony did for me. Things that he would have never mentioned but I feel I must. When I was real young he gave me a pair of Niemen Marcus pants that made me feel rich in a poor kid's world, he gave me his Rosedale letterman jacket (any kid's keepsake) so I could put my football and wrestling letters on because we couldn't afford one for me. He taught me how to drive a stick shift automobile and motorcycle. He paid for one or more of my proms and dances. He gave me my first Cash Bond for $100. He took me on a 3 week paid vacation around the country so I could see the plains, mountains, and oceans for the first time. At 18 years old, an hour before I was set to move to Los Angeles with my family, he pulled up to my delight to advise me that I didn't have to go because he was letting me move in with him and his soon to be wife Mary Rose. He taught me how to play tennis, drive a boat, and give weird facial expressions when someone does something stupid.

Finally I have to admit to something only him and I know. The day he was getting married I cried like a baby to him. I told him how proud I was of him and how thankful I was that he gave me the opportunity to see how a great man lived life daily. I only scratched the surface when I listed the things TC did for me. But I guess if I have to sum it up, Anthony Dale Carr loved me and invested in me so I could become a great man. When I grew older and would verbalize my appreciation for all that he had done for me he would always say, "when you become a great man, doing great things, there'll be time to pay me back - with interest". That time is never guaranteed nor has it ever been. I will miss my best friend. Although I have fallen more than once and have struggled like so many others, I have to credit Tony for giving me the tools as a kid and young man to get back on my feet and be the best person I could and can be. I will miss you my brother, I love you.

(I apologize for the quotation marks. I've never really used them, but I've been told that I need to if I'm going to write a book, so I apologize in advance. Here's a confession/secret, I've never used them because they remind me of jail house letters from several of my buddies.
- Mike this guy says, "Give me that jello or your getting the shank..." and in front of everyone, I dropped that jello to the floor, but before hitting the floor, I caught it like a hacky sack player, or Mr. Chuck Norris, and kicked it in his eyes which splattered on his face shooting debris into 5 other gang members eyes and I beat him and the whole prison up just by using jello, I did this while shouting, "I'm Rick James..bitches!" )