Nevertheless, the truth is and to further echo Mr. Peck’s way of thinking, God knows best and it’s His anointing Grace that can abort the most dismal events in  marvelous pieces of work where hope has no limits. Yes, indeed, life is truly difficult. This speaks volumes relative to pestilences, viruses, diseases, and a host of other challenges in our lives. Where would we be without challenging, recovering and redeeming our lives without trial and tribulation? We can’t afford to become listless and unmotivated by any stretch of the imagination. Any invigorating edge propelling us forward dissipates when all our battles are won and we are renewed. It’s a matter of how bad we want it, how determined we are to get the attention of law enforcement to petition their officers to train better, and most importantly, do better jobs of personnel screening for hiring purposes. The key is being able to breathe when it matters most. Recently I was a part of the Black Lives Matter Movement in my hometown of Miami, Florida. Protests when they are for the best motives doesn’t always have mitigating outcomes, nor are they unanimous decisions for inclusive approaches solving issues. But if the issues are poignant enough, a hit dog will holler, as well as empty wagons making the loudest noises. As mentioned earlier, joining in my decision becoming involved was a man who was equally committed to the cause. Albeit, he was homeless, a bit destitute and definitely didn’t look like me. He was a white homeless veteran who mesmerized me to no end with his reasons for doing what he felt was right. He has witnessed police brutality, have been a recipient of said injustice as he has repeatedly told me, “Alvin I too, can’t breathe…I’ve been stifled, suffocated for years because of apathy and abandonment from society’s good graces.” Of course I wanted him to elaborate and he did so as our friendship progressed. Let me introduce him to you. I will call him Errol, who has proven to be unlike anyone I’ve ever met, who’ve lost it all, humbled himself, and allowed humility to redirect his life illustrating manifest destiny. He was a stroke victim who fell from grace, who allowed corruption in his life, but decided to correct it in perfect harmony living well beyond what is perceived to be hope with embellishment. If you were to eye Errol it would be easy to dismiss him if you are one to judge books by their covers. Tall, wiry in a 6’3” frame barely 180 pounds, defining an era abusing drugs and alcohol leaving him with a gaunt weathered appearance. But here lies the paradox that defy stereotypical notion when one fails to go deeper beyond surface matters. I say this because I’ve gone deeper with him and found that he and I share divergent paths but the same sensibilities attaining triumph from tragedy ready to breathe life on our related angsts. We share  common bonds recovering from physical maladies and a few mental ones too.

     Errol, I found out was a scholar and an intellectual in many ways, matriculated from Spain and eventually found himself in the United States after his marriage went sour. Success found him at the top of his expertise a Financial Planner in the European Union. Tunisian by birth he speaks French, Spanish and other native dialects. Alcoholism and flawed business partners left him bankrupt and destitute. But that didn’t stop Errol as perseverance and persistence kept him hopeful. Hearing his disposition I gave him a standing ovation and a hug. I’m the type of person who believe in extending helping hands to those in need, this is par for my course, aligning myself appropriately. I admit, we are progressive endeavoring to make changes individually or collectively in our lives. My friend had a lot to say about who was privileged and who didn’t deserve it. “I can’t find the right words to describe when you are homeless, and most importantly when you witness inadequate police behavior; being homeless I’ve been privy to such inhuman behavior, and these are the things that gravitate in my mind daily,” recalled Errol. “You tend to see that there’s no end to their mindsets when dealing with someone who may not be as privileged as they are. They don’t have to worry about their next meal, where they will lay their heads, or how will people accept you,” he further intoned. Spending time in the military, my friend is one of an increasing number of veterans through the annals of time away from good times who have either have fallen far from grace, or have come home from foreign disorders defining Post Traumatic Syndrome Disorder (PTSD) dealing with unmet promises. I too, can’t breathe, as I allay to all things that are inclusive to Black Lives Matter. To echo Errol’s sentiment concerning police brutality, he’s trying to deal with people not doing what they were trained to do despite going through his therapy and well-being.

     The main thrust centers on therapeutic value for the both of us as it sustains capacity getting back to normal without (hopefully) relapsing into a non-essential reality. Especially dealing with angst and responding to society’s ills in race relations while making sure immune systems are not suspect to Coronavirus strains. This is where I met the subject of this essay, and it changed my outlook on reaching out to someone who needed it most. Mr. Errol was right on time! It was like God ordained our confluence for it not to have been mere happenstance. It’s being obedient to God’s dictate of giving something back by being cognizant of the environment we live in, and how to challenge status quo if it needs to be changed at all. I’m cognizant of all things detrimental to peaceful times and solutions for mankind to live in a world rife with consternation and ill-will. I want to be a solution rather than a statistic. I’m sure my Lord is not happy with how man is not compliant to He who sustains him. He that is omnipotent, who sees all can only hark back to the beginning…for that matter, giving Adam and Eve a perfect paradise for purposeful emanations. There’s a lot to be said about what’s going on in the world today. My friend had a lot to say about who was privileged and who didn’t deserve it. The fall of man put us in dire straits and put into play redeeming factors that forced us having to be obedient as saving grace for admittance in a reunion with Him. But do we really deserve it? Will we be ready before probation is closed, too late to make elections and callings surest? I write this essay with a heavy heart where lament is eminent hoping for resolve. I console myself by reading and adhering to scripture, especially Psalms 91, where Jesus implores His people to come back to him via faith initiatives despite the perils of the land. Its message is profound and easily conforms to signs of the times. I’m concerned about a new world order that has engulfed us, causing disruption, confusion, and death in many cases; and how vulnerable we are, sometimes ignorant of facts in reference to our immune systems. Pandemics will do that…so would fear that some have used to control and manipulate with all kinds of rhetorical action, including false information, innuendo, and fake news. Masked or unmasked (when it’s appropriate to be so) has mandates that forces us to be understanding of why we’re in this state to begin with. I’m concerned about the nature of a biased nation, and how those who perpetrate it are supporting hidden whims and blatant actions undermining equal parity where the scales of racism are still unbalanced. As a Black man I feel at time it’s just us that are being victimized, the black lives matter movement notwithstanding. Then there’s concern about the leadership of this country, or lack of same. I’m a history buff and have always considered our 17th President, Andrew Johnson as the worst. Could anybody else do worse? He and our 45th are similar, and share traits that are not conducive to uniting a nation and justice for all.

     Three score and a few years hence, is my longevity on this earth; I’m sure God has endowed me with a sense of purpose to be able to write things down and make them plain. The scribe that I am will never waiver nor give reason for me not to do otherwise. Research and knowledge are my bailiwicks for good reports, but it is the wisdom that I continually seek that galvanizes the truths for myself, family and community. Even the concerns with the aforementioned, causes me to refrain throwing caution to the wind. Trying to breathe in these times can be labored and fraught with all kind of danger being Black in Amerikkka. Racism with every breath I take reminds me that there are tears I can’t stop. White folk cannot, and will not own up to the fact that social reparations should be addressed in some fashion or form. Like waves on sand, their reactions form predictable patterns: they will insist that they “were taught to treat everyone the same,” that they are “color-blind,” that they “don’t care if you are pink, purple, or polka-dotted.” They will point to friends and family members of color, a history of civil-rights activism, or use the term “white fragility” to describe the disbelieving defensiveness that they exhibit when their ideas about race and racism are challenged—and particularly when they feel implicated in white supremacy allegations. All of these sentiments are inclusive when law enforcement is not balanced where and when Blacks are targeted. To wit: One day while seemingly enjoying the privileges of my retirement, there was a report on television of a homeless man being harassed and beaten because he didn’t want to vacate his turf for the night. Words escalated and I saw blood trickling down the face of the man who dared to defy a cop. He was beaten to the ground in a choke hold until backup arrived. As a member of a local civil liberties group I immediately made a call to the head of our faction with plans to protest. Unfortunately I never made it. At the moment I felt weak, unable to sustain my breath and feverish…I tried to lie down but felt so unnecessary. I asked my wife to take me to the hospital to be checked out. To my chagrin I was diagnosed with Covid-19 with pneumonia which had no effect on the situation I just witnessed. It turned out further that blood clots had traveled from my legs to both of my lungs, a situation that undoubtedly that was inherent before. Was God sending me a message, putting me on my back with no choice but to look up?

     Let me cut to the chase, and harken back to Errol, which sheds light on this whole situation. He was the man in that choke hold. Invariably if not ironic, he was admitted to the same hospital that I was in, and amazingly to the same room as I! It was there that we shared our lives and opined on the same social ideals. Here we were in the same diaspora trying to breathe as life found us recovering for redemption. I’ve been in this world long enough to know that there’s always someone who is like-minded and understand that God’s timing is not ours…it is to break us and make us whole again. We are dedicated men willing to do what is right and adhering to a disciplined order. The beauty of this whole scenario being victim to police indifference was more about timing than anything else. Know that I’ve prayed and thanked God for his miracle for strategic positioning where fate, providence and hope worked for the same result. Errol was, and still is a blessing to me where opportunity was in the eye(s) of the beholders. He (Errol) needed me, and I need him.

     As I close, my breath is intact wishing to exhale with confidence that I can go straight, turn right, and look up. Yes, my head is to the sky for a reason. Time is now for Mr. Errol, and for me also. Both of us are on the mend…we may be going in different directions but on the same paths. We’ve prayed together and continue to share more common bonds where camaraderie is practiced with frequent phone calls, and visits from time to time as we feel necessary to coalesce. I took Errol under my arm, propped him up and never abandoned him. I couldn’t be the help he needed if I wouldn’t have gone through what I did understanding his plight. There’s a caveat to this story though, in the fact that reciprocal value in recovery has redeeming worth. I’m currently in a wheelchair learning how to walk again relying on both physical and occupational therapy to guide me back to normalcy. Guess who is willing and never mind wheeling me around to appointments and making sure I’m okay? Yep! You guessed it right. Being in place for each other begets new leases on life where rays of hope are not diminished or distinguished. I’m reminded on David’s mindset as I read Psalms chapter 144 and verse 4: Life is short. We are here for the time being to make a difference in this world when and where we can. The Psalm reminds us that it is “like a breath” and that our “days are like a passing shadow, it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” We will forever praise the Lord and know that He is as good as advertised expanding unlimited hopes from mediocre to magnificent! I long to continue breathing as long as I can be influential making a difference. And because of that, optimism with every breath I take will take me beyond limits of hope having redeeming value as I recover!