My journey through the early years of my life was deeply influenced by a man named Jacky Williams. Jacky was not just a friend; he was sort of a mentor, whose life philosophy has profoundly shaped my own. The lessons he taught me, drawn from his diverse experiences, have guided me through various phases of my life, providing insights that one rarely finds in conventional education.

    Jacky had a way of presenting complex ideas in a simple, easy to understand manner. One of the first eye-opening concepts he shared was his view on freedom and confinement. He believed that the only difference between those in a minimum-security prison and the rest of us was sheer luck “the only difference between them and us is we have not been caught yet.” This perspective wasn’t an endorsement of criminal behavior but a commentary on the nature of societal norms and the lines between legality and illegality.

    His skepticism wasn’t limited to the criminal justice system. Jacky had a unique take on the value of contracts, arguing that a contract “is only good if the other signer wants it to be.” This taught me early on about the precariousness of agreements and the importance of trust and integrity in any partnership or agreement. This over the years proved to be very accurate advice.

    Jacky was acutely aware of the socio-economic disparities in society. He often said “the Middle Class has made a good run on catching the Rich, but now they are putting us back in our place.” His words echoed the barriers that prevent many from improving their socio-economic status, highlighting the ongoing struggle between the haves and the have-nots.

    Interestingly, Jacky’s insights extended into his views on law enforcement. Once, when discussing the role of a local sheriff, he quipped, “I would rather be his bag man.” This statement revealed his disillusionment with the justice system, which often seemed to serve the interests of the powerful over the principles of fairness and justice. He also warned me to “be very leery of conducting business with people that sit in the front of a church,” hinting at the hypocrisy he observed in some of the most outwardly upright members of society. Through the years I found this to be true. Last but not least “don’t go anywhere that you are not welcome.”

    Jacky’s ideas to improve our financial situation often bordered on the unconventional, if not outright controversial. “Kenny, if you want to make some real money, we need to start a church,” he’d conclude, half-jokingly, after our many brainstorming sessions. This was less about faith and more about how religion can be exploited for financial gain.

    One of Jacky’s most significant contributions to my worldview was my introduction to what they now call “the underserved people.” Through his years as a bartender, he met many individuals’ society had overlooked or discarded – alcoholics, the near homeless, and those with mental conditions. These individuals became our workforce for stripping tobacco for several years, teaching me lessons about humanity, resilience, and the complexities of life’s challenges.

    Among our crew were characters whose lives seemed borrowed from the pages of adventure novels. John Henry, for instance, boasted a past that intertwined with John Dillinger’s, claiming possible involvement in the Gravel Switch Bank robbery. I am convinced that he did participate. Tidd Bits, another crew member, recounted finding a tommy gun discarded by Al Capone’s gang after the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago. Hearing much gunfire close by, he jumped down into a ditch, and as Al Capone’s gang raced by one threw a gun out.

    Tidd Bits, also recounted hitchhiking across Kansas with John Henry to join the wheat harvest. Bonnie and Clyde stopped and gave them a ride. Whether these tales were true or embellished, I don’t know, they sure fit the timeframe that was presented, adding a layer of mystique and depth to my understanding of American history and the human spirit.

    Red, no doubt was an alcoholic, many a time around noon I would offer to bring him something for lunch. His answer was always “No, but you can bring back some medicine.” The medicine he wanted was a pint of ‘Thunderbird” or “Wild Irish Rose” wine. More often than not I would. Best I remember it was barely over a dollar in cost, if that.

    Jacky also ran a card game every winter, which attracted a variety of individuals, from all fringes of society, upper class to lower class. Although I seldom participated, mainly stopping by when they were having a “Cooking” these gatherings exposed me to a world far removed from my own, filled with stories and experiences that challenged my perceptions.

    Through Jacky Williams, I received an education about people, life, and the gray areas of morality before I turned 35. His teachings, based on real-life experiences and interactions with those from all walks of life, provided me with a unique lens through which to view the world, one that I continue to value and rely upon to this day.

    My life, much like anyone’s, has been a journey through various teachings and influences, but none have been quite as significant as those I’ve garnered from Jacky Williams. Jacky, a character larger than life to me, introduced me to philosophies and ways of living that have forever altered my perspective on the world, even if I did not realize it then.