Just, John

High School Hang out

I know that this blog is somewhat outside the box, but I want you to get to know me well enough to decide if joining Unite Us is worth your time.

My name is John Head, and I am one of the founders of Unite Us. I’m going to give you a little insight into who I am, and who knows, you may like what you see. I have no reason to deceive you. Some of the people who know me very well will probably see this blog, and that’s what’s important to me.

I am not going to read to you in a video while attempting to look like I’m not reading. I’ve found that I’m not a very good actor. I have taken the time to write this down, and now I am going to read it to you, if you will listen. The visuals you’ll see—if you take the time to look at this mess—will give you some insight through images that have impacted my thinking.

I was born between two mountains in Carbon, West Virginia, which is coal country. Carbon was a little hamlet in Kanawha County, about 30 miles from Charleston. My father was a coal miner there, and my mother did domestic work for Dr. Houck for about 53 years. He was very good to her and to our family. Great people.

We were all delivered by a midwife named Mrs. Fordham. I never had medical care until I was 18 years old, after I joined the Marine Corps in 1963. The firstborn in my immediate family was Juanita—we call her Ret. When I was a little boy, she took care of me just like my mother did when my mother was working. She was only a few years older than I was. Sometimes she tried to spank me, but I got tired of that by the time I was 13 and started resisting. We laugh about that whenever I’m blessed to be in her presence. I always looked up to her, and I still do. It seemed like my mother worked all the time, especially after my father got black lung. My sister took care of me and my brother Robert during those days. My mother was a real go-getter.

I was the second born in my family. After me came my brother Robert. He passed away a few years ago from coal mine-related health problems. He was my main man. My mother had been married previously, but her first husband died at a very young age from lung problems. She had one child from that marriage, my sister Dee. Dee gave Ret her nickname. Dee was so kind. I love them both so much. Dee passed away about ten years ago now. Floyd was Dee’s husband, and he was incredible. He died around 1983 from problems believed to be job-related as well, having worked in the coal mines for many years. My nephew Tony, Dee and Floyd’s son, has been just like a brother to me. We’re relatively close in age, and he is a wonderful person I love and admire.

My father, whom I didn’t understand when I was growing up, had also been married previously. From that marriage came my big brother June and my sister Frances, who passed away very young. June is my main man! He’s about 91 years old now. He never worked in the coal mines. I guess he’ll live a long life because he never had to go into that hole of death. My father, on the other hand, predicted he wouldn’t live long because of going into that infamous hole. He died at age 64 of Black Lung.

I love my family so much that it would be impossible for me to say which one is my favorite. We are very, very close. God has blessed my family with longevity, regardless of all the challenges we’ve faced just to survive. Both my grandfather and grandmother on my father’s side lived to be 115 years old. They were once enslaved. Family members still possess the shipping documents that verify my grandfather’s arrival in this country. My grandmother was a Black Native American. Both of them were sold at an auction, right here in America.

My mother lived to be 104 years old. She sometimes talked about how upset her grandmother was when her sister—my great aunt—was sold to another master during slavery. She said my great grandmother could never get past that. She also talked about how her grandmother traveled all over the world with her master as a seamstress during slavery. All things considered, she said her grandmother’s masters were decent people, not as harsh as the rest. (Those are her words, not mine.) Listening to my parents talk about slavery was eerie. Sometimes, even now, I have dreams about that ominous “trip.”

Let me tell you a little about my father. My father was what some might call a hell-raiser. He worked hard to take care of us, but he was very heavy-handed with discipline, and he drank heavily. I saw him tie my brother to a bed one day and beat the living daylights out of him. My father hated lies, and he hated people who lied, stole, or cheated. I picked up some of those qualities from him—I’m talking about despising lies and liars. Still, as a child, I was scared of my father after watching that beating. As an adult, looking back on my childhood, I regret how I felt about him back then, because he was telling me the truth, but I just couldn’t get past him telling me things while he was intoxicated. I hated drinking.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around the way my father acted in public after he’d had a little nip. He didn’t need much—just one little nip would set him off. He’d quickly say whatever was on his mind to anyone.

In days past, Black people couldn’t express their feelings. I understood that. My daddy didn’t. My mother was always worried about losing her job because of my father’s refusal to follow decorum. He was unusual for his time. Still, guys my age loved my father. He’d play sports with them and also play cards. I would always occupy my mind with reading or plotting. Some of my friends from back then have said he helped them through serious misunderstandings about life. Some tell me now that my father had the courage they wished they’d seen in their own fathers. But I was scared to death—and so was my mother.When I reached maturity, I began to understand my father more clearly. I also learned that sometimes a person can have good intentions and share what they believe is the truth, but it can be easily interpreted as a lie under certain circumstances. It’s hard to un-ring a bell, though.

My father told me many stories about his life. He told me about the Great Depression. He told me about things his father told him about slavery and what he called “the trip”—in the belly of a slave ship. He told me these things, and I felt sorry for the people who had to carry that hate before their Maker. All of these experiences have shaped the way I think and conduct myself to this day. I still wish not to carry hate in my spirit. I learned about it firsthand and secondhand, and I live my life so that I will never have to answer to God with such a stain on my soul.

Although my family didn’t have wealth, we had plenty of love. I would trade love for wealth any day. My mother often said, “I don’t have a lot of money, but I am rich in spirit.” She believed character was more important than anything else. She knew how to separate good from bad and ugly, and dwell only on the good. That’s what I was taught as a child. On my mother’s 102nd birthday in 2004, the Charleston Gazette printed an article about her. They asked her, “Mrs. Head, why do you think you’ve lived so long?” She said, “It is because I love everyone.” I guess I got a good mixture of reality from both my mother and father. I feel the same way. I can’t help it. I don’t care about your color, religion, or national origin. I love you.

I am always aware of the people I love when I take on any endeavor. I think of in no particular order, Anita, Josh, Jonathan, Mother, Daddy, Kashae, Sage, Dee, Floyd, Tony, Mrs. Brown, Buddy, Homer, Larry, Lonnie, Squeak, Johnny B., John B., Tony, Ret, Robert, Calvin, Carla, Fred, Freddy, June, Brenda, Cookie, Maxine, Camille, Kenneth, Butch, Mr. Jesse, Mrs. Alice, Mr. Kenneth, Mrs. Maggie, Mr. and Mrs Joe Moore, Buttercup, and many more. My life is driven by what these people think of me—and many others—even though many have long passed. These people expect good things from me, and I still try not to let them down.

As a child, one of my greatest ambitions was to take my family from between those two mountains in West Virginia. I was horrified by my father going down into that hole of no return—the coal mines. When I was 10 years old, I started working at anything that would bring in income. I delivered newspapers, cut grass, sold White Chlorine Brand salves, greeting cards, and more. “When you care enough to send the very best” was my slogan. I got that from selling Hallmark cards. I even tried to start a mail-order business. I loved the ads in comic books for items like bronze shoes, the drinking bird, and other things from Wilson Chemical Company. I was really determined. I learned a lot about marketing as a child. I always fantasized about moving out of West Virginia to a friendlier environment. I’d heard things weren’t so bad in Ohio. Many of my friends moved to states that were more “user-friendly.” At 16, I started playing guitar. I learned enough popular songs to start a band.

My mother’s childhood friend lived only a few miles away. I met her son, Larry. Larry was a dreamer just like me. He’s my best friend to this day. We contacted a few more people, and before we knew it, we started a band called the Mobiles. We were constantly reminded by everyone we knew that there were few places we could play because of our color. They were simply keeping it real, but Larry and I just couldn’t accept that. We were so determined that we approached bars—beer gardens, they called them back then—that were truly off-limits for people like us.

After being physically thrown out and spat upon, one person gave us a chance, and the people there really liked us. That only increased our faith. We played at that beer garden for a while for pennies. Then we met Fred. He was different, Caucasian, but as real as real can get. Fred had the means to get us into many places to play. Fred was also a dreamer. He managed us and helped us gain exposure. Soon we were playing on stage with entertainers like Ike and Tina Turner, Dave "Baby" Cortez, Bobby Lewis, and Gloria Lynne. That was a big deal for us.

Once I graduated from high school in 1963, the band faced some challenges. Some members had started missing rehearsals, drinking, and other personality issues surfaced. I didn’t like drinking, and I didn’t like drama, so I decided to join the Marines. The rest is history.

I left the Marine Corps in 1967 after returning from Vietnam. I hated leaving my beloved friends behind, but I was California bound. In 1972, I went to college and later to law school. I married my lovely wife Anita in 1982. My son Joshua was born shortly after, and four years later, my son Jonathan came along. We faced many challenges raising our children. It wasn’t a fairy tale, but still, God is good.

I created a corporation called Governmental Benefits Consultants. I was the CEO for 16 years. I founded the company in 1979, and it officiallly closed its doors in 2003, but I received payments from worked performed in this company for eleven years thereafter. We provided services to many distinguished medical centers in Southern California as uncompensated care accounts consultants. I also had the privilege of securing one of the largest contracts ever awarded to a black person by Los Angeles County at that time—and Los Angeles County was then the largest organization west of the Mississippi. That made me awfully proud.

Every business I’ve ever created was designed to benefit people. I saw a need, and I addressed it. That’s what I do. I’ve helped many people get medical care when they had little means to pay, often due to preexisting conditions or lack of income. I found a way for them, I got them the care they needed, and got the bills paid. Only God knows how I did it, but hospitals loved our services. Prayers help! Truly, it’s not money that drives me. I’ve thought about that before. I always look at what I can do to help people—and I go for it, and some how miracusly I'm also blessed.

I believe I can make life better for many people with the Unite Us program that my two sons and I are about to launch. I feel like I’m on yet another mission from a higher source. I can see things from afar, for some strange reason. I guess I’m still that cryptographer the Marine Corps saw in me many seasons ago. I can seem to always read between the lines. I hope I’m correct this time.

I’ve only told you a little about myself, and I hope, if nothing else, it gives you a chance to know me a little better. I don’t have a lot of money, but I am very rich in spirit—and that takes me a long way. I believe that the way we live our lives prepares us for something even better after.

Just, John