Tag Archives: memoir

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | July 18, 2024 · 5:00 am

Talitha Cumi Virtual Book Tour

(Little Girl, I Say to You, Arise!)

Memoir

“This book is a record of how God transformed my life. I am coming to
the end of my journey, and this book is my legacy to the world.”

-W. M. Brazil

W. M. Brazil, fondly referred to as Chaplain Brazil, is an honorably
retired ordained minister in the church. She is gifted by the Holy Spirit
and ordained by God to feed his children on his word. Her only claim to fame
is that she loves Jesus and Jesus loves her.

I am an African American woman, born less than eighty years after the civil
war. I entered the work force a year after the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
Life for my family was hard living in a George Wallace and Bull Connor
Alabama. But God birthed me into a family who not only knew struggle, but
also knew the God who brings us through the struggle. Yet, being born into a
family who knew God, was not enough to bring me into relationship with the
living God. It took Jesus Christ, the Lord of Life, walking into my life,
taking me by the hand and gently saying, Talitha Cumi, which means, Little
Girl, I say unto you, Arise! He touched me and made me whole. But that could
only happen after I, like the woman with the issue of blood, touched the hem
of his garment.

This is my story. This is my song. Praising my Savior, all the day long.
Jesus brought heaven and earth together in my life. I would take nothing for
the journey. I truly found the pearl of great value.

EXCERPT

INTRODUCTION

This book is a record of how God transformed my life. I am

coming to the end of my journey, and this book is my legacy

to the world. Those of us who have a good relationship with

the Lord often keep that relationship to ourselves. Many

times, we die, and our story dies with us. I do not want that

to happen in my case and I believe God has commissioned

me to write it.

At this writing, I am twice retired—first from pastoral

ministry and second as a community-funded chaplain at

a women’s prison. I started in this world as a little Black

girl, who descended from slaves and sharecroppers; born

and raised in a Bull Connor and George Wallace Alabama

before the civil rights bill was passed. But I overcame my

oppression by the blood of the lamb.

It would have been impossible for me to have done so

without God revealing himself to me in the wonderful way

that he did. God tried many times to get my attention before

I responded, but one day, I realized that the only rational

thing I could do was to ask God to take charge of my life.

That was the day my whole life changed, and I discovered

the secret to living a fulfilled life. He broke into my world

TALITHA CUMI

and filled me with his presence to the extent that, in this

life, I have access to all spiritual blessings in heavenly places

(Ephesians 1:3).

My purpose in this book is to share with you my

relationship with the Lord—the encounters I have had, how

he talks to me, how he leads me and guides me over the

rough places of life, and how he shows his love for me. I am

writing it for you who at this moment might be struggling

with life. I want you to know, that right now, you can live the

abundant life that Jesus promised us in Scripture. No more

damaged emotions, no more feelings of inadequacy, and no

more uncertainties about life.

I am also writing it for you who have had similar experiences

as I but is living with uncertainties about your faith. Perhaps,

you feel that you are alone, because you know of no one else

who has experienced God in the way that you have. Be of

good cheer. You are not alone. There are many people in the

world who have found that Jesus is a friend that sticks closer

than any brother or sister (Proverbs 18:24). That he will never

leave you, nor will he forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).

This book is also an invitation for you who have become

stagnant in your faith to stir up the fire of the Spirit and

reaffirm your faith in Christ. One day you might have to

stand for your faith and assert that Jesus is Lord. I pray

that this book will give you strength for the journey as

you connect the dots in your own life. As you read about

my journey, think about your own. Walk with me and find

purpose for the living of these days. God said that he will

restore every year that the locusts have eaten ( Joel 2:25). It

is never too late.

Author

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | June 4, 2024 · 5:00 am

Opium et Moi Virtual Book Tour

Memoir

Every perfume is a unique work of art, no different than a piece of music
or a painting in its ability to evoke feelings in its audience. In 1976,
Yves Saint Laurent fell in love with the idea of creating a new perfume that
would convey the lush, sensual mood of the name he had already chosen,
OPIUM.

Working with Yves, his personal and business partner Pierre, and so many
others in the world of high fashion and fragrance could be exhilarating,
infuriating, and often, a simmering pot-au-feu threatening to boil over.
This narrative takes you behind the scenes, providing a glimpse of that
fascinating world and the people who kept it spinning.

It is a highly personal story, and one I know well. It is my story.

EXCERPT

Introduction

Every perfume is a unique work of art, not unlike a piece of music or an abstract painting. It can reach deep into the primitive recesses of our brains and touch our souls, evoking feelings and emotions that are beyond language. Our sense of smell—the olfactory process—resides in the most ancient part of our brains, and for thousands of years, it has protected animals—as well as humans—from danger, warned them not to eat spoiled food, and aroused them with sexual desire. It still does.

The feelings evoked by a fragrance are not simply marketing ploys. An array of elements, called notes—sweet or leathery, fresh or spicy—are combined in a distinctive progression, not unlike turning musical notes into a melody that can stir the senses to despair or rapture. The powerful, heart-wrenching aria, “Un bel dì, vedremo,” can bring people to tears, even without understanding the words of Puccini’s opera, Madama Butterfly.

In 1976, Yves Saint Laurent fell in love with the idea of creating a new perfume that would convey the lush, sensual mood of the name he had already chosen. And although I am not a perfumer, I know that the scent that Charles of the Ritz Group, Ltd. went on to develop together with the name merged into something greater than the sum of its parts; it was, and remains, a phenomenon that has lasted almost half a century.

It’s Opium.

Perhaps you’re wondering how and why I fit into this story. Well, it’s complicated. In brief, Yves and his partner, Pierre Bergé, opened Yves Saint Laurent Couture in 1961 with financing from an American investor, Mack Robinson, in exchange for a controlling interest in this fledgling venture. The Company then registered YSL trademarks in an array of product categories, including perfumes and cosmetics. In 1965, Mack Robinson sold his controlling interest to Ritz. In 1971, Squibb Beech-Nut Corporation acquired Ritz, and after some fancy footwork, Ritz owned all YSL trademarks and Yves and Pierre owned YSL Couture.*

The bottom line is that Yves, the enfant terrible of the high fashion world, didn’t own his own trademarks and didn’t have the final authority to make decisions about the perfumes and cosmetics bearing his name. That responsibility became mine when I was named president of Ritz’s International Division.

Of course, in addition to YSL, I was also responsible for developing, producing, and marketing Ritz’s other cosmetics and fragrance brands outside the United States and exporting them from the US to countries around the world. It was a big job and an even bigger opportunity. I relished the challenge.

Working with Yves, his personal and business partner, Pierre, and so many others in the world of high fashion and fragrance could be exhilarating, infuriating, and often, a simmering pot-au-feu threatening to boil over. This narrative takes you behind the scenes and provides a glimpse of that fascinating world and the people who kept it spinning.

It is a highly personal story and one I know well.

It is my story.

About the Author

As a young boy, I was always absorbed in books about
history—particularly that of the United States—and geography,
yet still managed a healthy appetite of sports and a weekly outing to see
the latest cowboy or adventure movie. Later, I was exposed to the Broadway
stage and developed a great fondness for musical theater, at one point
picturing it as a future career choice. But alas, as I grew older and
realized I was not that talented, I became more serious about the
future.

Fortunately, I wound up in a creative segment of the business world, which
provided me the opportunity to travel the globe and stimulated my interest
in world history. It also opened avenues into entertainment and politics. I
found a home in the fashion industry and served as President of Charles of
the Ritz Group, Ltd., then a wholly owned subsidiary of Squibb Corporation,
where I also served on its Board of Directors. Here, I was deeply involved
with well-known fashion designers, Yves Saint Laurent and Gianni Versace;
Hollywood stars, Linda Evans and John Forsythe; and because of the success
of the perfume, Opium, wound up in Washington meeting with senators,
representatives and administration officials to obtain relief from gray
market goods flooding the United States in the early 1980’s.

After my retirement, I wrote two novels based on my many years of
experience in the fashion industry, and continually pursued my interest in
history. Following a short break to write a non-fiction book on the
relationship of taxes and jobs, I spent much of my time these past several
years studying the biblical account of the rise of Christianity from the
varying narratives of religion, history and archaeology. The results of that
research were a source of information and inspiration for my wife, Leslie
Schweitzer Miller, in writing her first novel, DISCOVERY.

Now my interest is in public policy on issues that affect the United States
such as healthcare, taxes, job creation and foreign affairs, about which I
will be commenting periodically.

Contact Link

Website

Purchase Link

Amazon

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | May 10, 2024 · 5:00 am

Arrested Virtual Book Tour

A Memoir of the American First Lady of Nice, France and the French
Riviera

Memoir

Date Published: March 17, 2024

Publisher: ‎
BookBaby

Growing up in Beverly Hills with two famous uncles – a cosmetics magnate
and a well-connected mobster – eventually led Ilene Médecin to a
romantic and glamorous life as the American First Lady of Nice and the
French Riviera. “Arrested” follows Ilene through her marriage to
Jacques Médecin, a Medici Count fondly known as “King
Jacquou,” who was the last scion of a century old political dynasty.
Her unique experience is from the perspective of an American woman living in
France, married to a powerful French politician ruling the Côte d’Azur
as they shared their social circle with Princess Grace Kelly and Prince
Rainier. Life was extraordinary among royals, celebrities, and politicians.
From the enchanted pages of a storybook Camelot, being at the pinnacle of a
fantasy existence, only to fall from grace to the depths of a French prison
cell. While there were trysts and scandals, nothing prepared Ilene for the
demise of a prominent political family and her eventual arrest for her
husband’s alleged wrongdoings. As for Jacques, sadly, taking up residence in
Uruguay was a puzzling end to a stellar political career.

Neither political exile nor arrest had ever been on Ilene’s bucket list,
but she found herself checking them both off. Her late husband, Jacques
Médecin, had been Mayor of Nice, President of Alpes-Maritimes
(presiding over the Côte d’Azur), French Minister of Tourism, Member
of Parliament, and a Medici Count. Rest assured, “King Jacquou”
was no ordinary politician as he ruled the expanse of the French Riviera.
Curiously, he also gained notoriety being the official reference for proper
Salad Niçoise as the published author of a widely acclaimed cookbook,
“Cuisine Niçoise, Recipes From A Mediterranean
Kitchen.”

Purchase Link

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | December 31, 2023 · 5:00 am

My Life in Stitches Virtual Book Tour

A Heart Transplant Survivor Story

Memoir

Date Published: December 12, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Darla Calvet is a thirty-nine-year-old working mom whose life turns upside
down when she is diagnosed with congestive heart failure. Suddenly, fear
threatens her dreams for the future as doctors’ appointments replace
her daily routines and she realizes she may not live to see her daughters
grow up. After dying twice while waiting for a new heart, Darla begins to
understand her own resiliency—her heart may be weak, but her mind
refuses to give up.

My Life in Stitches: A Heart Transplant Survivor Story is a candid, witty
account of one woman’s determination to transform a devastating prognosis
into an inspiring fight for survival. Darla’s story offers insight
into the complex world of medicine with a dose of humor about her challenges
and victories as a heart transplant patient. In this sensitive, thorough,
and informative debut, Calvet brings compassion and gentle wisdom to a
difficult subject in hopes of demystifying the uncertainties that inevitably
accompany long-term, life-threatening medical decisions.

EXCERPT

My fears that something was seriously wrong were confirmed as we checked into the musty, overcrowded emergency room. I showed the admitting clerk my elephantine ankles, and she immediately bumped me to the head of the line. I was out of breath and wheezed repeatedly. I thanked her on my way to the exam room and gasped, “I can’t breathe.” She looked me straight in the eye and responded, “You have a heart virus. I can already tell.” She was correct in her diagnosis.

After being quickly assessed in the triage area, the silver- haired, haggard-looking physician on duty looked at my vital signs and ankles. He frowned. “It looks like you are in heart failure. They are going to transport you to the regular hospital for tests and admittance.” Before I could plead with him for more information, he was gone. I noticed that the man in the bed next to me began urinating in a bedpan. I wanted to scream but shut my eyes instead. I prayed to God that this was some kind of horrible dream, and I would wake up in my normal life. I was only thirty-nine years old.

A half hour passed, and two young male paramedics loaded me up on a sitting gurney. It was bright yellow and black and reminded me of a giant bumblebee robot transformer. Although I must have looked monstrous with my slicked-back hair and sweating forehead, they were kind to me and tried to be reassuring. “Okay miss, we will be transporting you over to the main hospital now,” said one of them as he lifted up the giant gurney.

The half-mile trip between the emergency room and the main hospital was a ridiculous exercise in logistics. It took them twenty minutes to get me loaded and buckled in, then five minutes to drive over to the main building and another twenty to unload me. They placed me in a temporary patient holding room on the main floor of the hospital, where I encountered a pudgy, peroxided nurse.

My husband Pat had gone home to leave the kids with some trusted neighbors while I waited for more treatment. I sat alone in the holding room in a despondent state. After hours of sitting alone considering my bleak diagnosis, a tall, older priest with a shock of white hair entered the room, smiling. I took one look at him and whispered, “Oh my God. Are you here to administer the Last Rites?”

In a predictable Irish brogue, he took my hand and replied, “No, child. I am just here to see if you are hungry. I know you have been here a while. I brought you a bit of something.” He pulled his hand from his shirt pocket and produced a tiny peanut butter sandwich, neatly wrapped in plastic. I had been at the hospital for over eighteen hours and had been given nothing but water and intravenous fluid. “Oh, thank you, Father,” I said with relief. “Yes, I am a bit hungry, and I would love that.” We both shared a good laugh before he gave me a standard blessing and continued his rounds. I was going to need it.

The first lesson I learned as a heart transplant patient is that a sense of humor is vital on the road to recovery. You cannot survive without it.

EXCERPT 2

946 word excerpt from My Life in Stitches, Chapter 12

EXACTLY SIXTY-TWO DAYS after I had fainted in the Scripps Green hospital room, I woke up in complete darkness. My heart raced. I had no idea where I was or what happened to me since I passed out on the day I was admitted. I was unable to see without my contacts or glasses and tried to speak but could not emit a sound. For those first few moments, I thought perhaps maybe I was in some kind of purgatory and that this was my eternal bus stop. I felt a distinct heaviness as I tried to move my legs. I reached down around my abdomen and detected the LVAD unit, with a drive line going through my abdomen and its two large lithium batteries attached to my body. The LVAD surgery had occurred. But when, why, and how had it happened? I sat in darkness, vainly searching for the remote control and the button to call the night shift nurse.

I felt a weird combination of relief and confusion. I could decipher from the blurry digits on the clock that it was about 4:00 a.m. I had no idea what day, month, or year it was. I knew from the LVAD installation that some time must have passed, but how much? I must have woken up during a skeletal night shift with very few nurses in the hospital unit. I swung my head as far around as I could, only to see the outlines and lights of seventeen machines in the room, all helping to keep me alive. I immediately started to panic. I seemed to be more machine than human with all of the leads and tubes running in and out of my body. I was also intubated and unable to speak, which was terrifying. I could discern from the many machines attached to me that I was also in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit, known as the CICU. This was where the gravely ill cardiac patients were sent by their teams.

“Stay calm,” I told myself. Someone had to be around . . . somewhere. The heavy blackout curtains were drawn around my glass cube room, making me feel claustrophobic. After a long wait, the curtains were flung open by Patricia, my morning nurse, who was starting her shift. She smiled sweetly, saying, “Oh, good. You are awake. We have been waiting for you to wake up.” I was confused and had no idea how I had arrived at my current state in the hospital bed. At that time, the CICU was located in the basement of the Scripps Green Hospital Facility, next to the morgue. It was not exactly a cheery place. I heard some orderlies joking to each other that it was “death’s waiting room.”

Realizing that I could not speak, Patricia took my hand and spoke softly, “You are okay. You have been in a medically induced coma for over two months. During that time, we needed to perform emergency open heart surgery and save your life by installing the LVAD, which you have probably noticed is attached to your body.” I shuddered and pulled the sheets up around my neck. God only knew how close I had come to death. I was about to find out.

While I was very grateful and relieved to be alive, I thought of my family. How had my husband coped during my absence with our two young adult girls? How had they dealt with this horrible situation? My eldest, Claire, was a high school senior. My youngest, Annie, was now a high school freshman. It made me sad to think about missing the important events that were going on in their young lives.

My next thought was my job. What had happened to it? Had someone finally disclosed how sick I had been while continuing to work? It gave me pause to consider that this had happened during my absence. I did not know that my husband had requested a one-year leave of absence after I fainted at the hospital. I was grateful he did this on my behalf. During my last days at my job, my ego kept me from seeking support even as I struggled to walk a few hundred feet from the parking lot to the elevator up to my office.

A few moments later, Nurse Patricia returned with my “breakfast.” It was a peach colored container of liquid protein that looked like cement. I watched in awe as she said, “Down the hatch” and poured it into my feeding tube. “Can you taste anything?” she asked. I shook my head “no.” The only sensation I felt was the cold sludge making its way down the feeding tube in the back of my throat. I had lost quite a bit of weight during my two-month nap. Thirty-four pounds to be exact. My body, which had always been very muscular, was now atrophied and weak.

The LVAD was the third device to be surgically placed into my body after the AICD defibrillator and pacemaker. It cost over a million dollars to install. Now, my job of learning to live with it began. There would be no swimming in the near future. The eight pounds of life-saving state-of-the-art medical equipment that was now part of my body would require ongoing care. I had no idea at that time the battles that had taken place to get the LVAD device installed. I would have certainly died without it.

The next lesson I learned as a transplant patient is: Your medical team must fight to save your life. Even with your insurance company. You do not have the luxury of time on your side.

About the Author

A heart transplant survivor, Dr. Darla Calvet won a gold medal for ballroom
dance in the 2022 Transplant Games of America. Currently, she serves as the
vice president of the board of directors for the Southern California
Transplant Games of America team. She is also the CEO of Blue Tiger, Inc., a
strategic planning consultancy. A doctor of education, Calvet holds degrees
from Claremont Graduate University, San Diego State University, and the
University of California, Berkeley. She lives in San Diego, California, with
her husband Pat and their French bulldog Quinn, and she is the proud mom of
two adult daughters, Claire and Annie.

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | December 21, 2023 · 5:00 am

Food Stamp Warrior Virtual Book Tour

Memoir

Date Published: September 19, 2023

Publisher: ‎Brass Knuckle Books

JOHN DEATON’S RAW AND COMPELLING MEMOIR

From brass knuckle beatdowns on the schoolyard to showdowns with the SEC on
the national news, every second of Deaton’s life has been a fight for
survival. This book is the raw, wild John Deaton story, straight from the
source. Born in one of the worst neighborhoods in Detroit — the kind
of place the city cordoned off with warning signs and growing up surrounded
by hustlers, addicts, abusers, gang bangers, and the downtrodden, Deaton
became a fighter, with violence becoming second nature.

Deep down however, all he wanted was to escape. Deaton’s escape would
take him to law school, where he starved and battled cancer, while his peers
lived off privilege. He became a marine, an attorney, a millionaire, a
father — but the unexamined trauma from his past haunted and nearly
broke him. This memoir is Deaton’s confession, his exorcism, his
proclamation to fellow survivors: Don’t give up. Our birth is not our
fate. We make our own fate.

Food Stamp Warrior is written with the depth of setting found in Hillbilly
Elegy and the razor-sharp, unpretentious voice of Bourdain’s Kitchen
Confidential. In a time of uncertainty and economic instability, Deaton’s
story is one of perseverance, resilience and empowerment.

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

Opening Statement

Looking back, it just doesn’t make much sense. I remember where I started. I know where I’m at now.

But it’s like looking at two different realities. When I wake up in my home in Rhode Island, smack dab in the middle of suburbia these days, my past could not be further away.

All the same, it’s still there: the streets, the struggles, and that empty feeling, that yearning hunger that drove me forward through the decades that should have left me dead. How in the world did I make it through?

That’s the heart of my story: survival itself.

Maybe you’re my friend or part of my family. You may know me from my law practice. Maybe you know me from my Twitter following. Maybe you don’t know me at all. But know this:

Everything you’re about to read is the truth of what I’ve lived. From the things I’ve done to the things done to me, it has not been an easy road.

The nice home, the fancy car, the wonderful kids I now have of my own…my purpose here is to scratch away that surface to show you the raw, real me.

Ever since I was a young boy, I refused to allow my destiny to be determined by the circumstances surrounding my birth or my upbringing. My destiny would be self-imposed. My parents, guardians, and siblings alike, always seemed drawn back to some destructive force or another. Our circumstances, our personal struggles, our own failings…all these swirled together into the fabric of the environment that surrounded us. I internalized the feeling of this, to the point where it became invisible and inevitable to me.

But then it became unbearable. So, this is the true story of how I untangled it all and got to where I am today.

Throughout the process of writing this memoir, I’ve sometimes asked myself: Why? What compels me to dig back through the past? To others who have lived a life like mine, perhaps you know that urge to push it all down, to live in the better days of the present and forget what you wished you didn’t recall in the first place.

Raw determination is just one half of survival. I tell my story now because I know that a lot of others out in the world also hide from themselves. In the end, there’s no hiding from it. Not forever. Trust me on that one. Self-discovery is not complete without the journey inward. On the other side of self-discovery is where real freedom lies.

You’ll have to understand my neighborhood, where I’ve come from, and the people who lived there with me. You’ll need to experience all it took to break free from that dead-end place and make a name for myself in this world. You’ll have to feel the same burning desire I felt as I clawed myself into the world of law, and the need I had to create the security and comfort that I never experienced as a child.

I’ve been many things throughout my life: a son, a brother, a hustler, a victim, a fighter, a cancer patient, a Marine, a lawyer, a husband, a father. So many faces it might seem suspect. I’ve asked myself: Which face is the mask? One of them must be, right?

Maybe. Maybe not.

What I know is that I was a street kid first, and it prepared me for everything to come. There were many times when it might have destroyed me too, and either fate or sheer human willpower carried me through.

Even when I thought I left the hood behind, it followed me. It became a part of me. To success, to money, to fatherhood. Until I accepted my life—all of it—I would never be able to fully live it. What’s the point in surviving then?

That’s what I decided to tell here.

First, I will take you through the same gauntlet I walked through every day on the mean streets of Highland Park. It won’t be pretty. It will likely not conform with the way you see the world or your own experiences. All I ask is that you listen, take it in, and understand for many of us out there, my story really isn’t that uncommon. One man’s nightmare is another person’s childhood.

After that, you’ll experience the steep climb I underwent to escape the gravitational pull of Highland Park and the people who surrounded me there. Love, heartbreak, disease, betrayal—and all of that before I even stepped into my first courtroom. After the trials and tribulations of my young life, I want to show people that survival is possible—no matter the odds.

Finally, you’ll learn the hard way, just like me, how those who climb the highest can still end up falling just as far. But you can learn from my example and just maybe save yourself by facing that dive head-on while reaching a place you never knew even existed.

When I reached middle age, I thought I’d seen it all. I wasn’t even close. Surprisingly, though, this last revelation turned out to be the most important lesson I’ve learned.

This world is much more than it appears, and so is every life lived in it. While this memoir speaks of the only life I’ve known, it touches upon the struggles we all face. Race, poverty, abuse given and self-inflicted alike—these are cycles that repeat everywhere across the globe.

I think my life shows how these cycles are created—and answers the question of whether they can be broken. Trust me, they can.

The book that follows is a map of my experiences, good and bad, transcendental and tragic, warts and all. I’ve told it the only way I know how—from my birth ’til now, though not always in that order.

Love me or hate me, believe it or not—take a seat. Imagine you’re in my courtroom now. Let me lay out my case, show you the evidence, and you can even be the jury too…

But my fate is my own. So, get ready for the opening statement.

Welcome to Highland Park: my own personal hell on Earth. Home sweet home.

About the Author

John Deaton, Managing Partner of the Deaton Law Firm, is well-established
in the legal field. But despite the many achievements throughout his legal
career, including his military service, Deaton is perhaps best known for his
dogged defense on behalf of digital asset holders across the globe. Deaton,
often appearing on national cable news, gained significant notoriety related
to his battle against the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission on behalf
of over 75 thousand retail holders of the digital asset XRP. His efforts in
the case earned him an almost cult-like following within the crypto
community, becoming something of a folklore hero.

Since then, he’s earned a well-deserved reputation as a defender of
the “little guy” and protector of the truth. Deaton was awarded
the ICBLA’s Defender of Freedom Award for his efforts.

His first book, Food Stamp Warrior, is his no-holds-barred memoir. In it,
Deaton reveals the trials of his youth growing up in one of America’s most
underprivileged and violent neighborhoods, his many struggles becoming a
lawyer and a marine, and the trials and tribulations of fatherhood, and
beyond. Food Stamp Warrior is a quintessential American tale, and a tale of
perseverance, determination, and hope.

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