Getting into trouble in the Middle East, with the exception of Turkey, is very easy. If a person is a Christian or an American, it’s almost assured. I did wind up up in a Turkish jail. Going through a time warp. Back to an 1850’s western cowboy jail To be accurate, it resulted from a barroom brawl. Had no money upon release. But did have the return ticket to heaven. The one with the prefix USA in front of it. It took three days. Getting the only food during that time on British Airways. Never appreciated British hospitality so much before. Hitch hiked from NY to my brother’s shop in Murfreesboro Tn. Feeling very lucky to catch him before he left in the morning. “Great! I’ve had nothing to eat for three days, you can buy me breakfast” Originally, we are from Germany. My brother also happens to have super human powers. He knows what I’m doing even from 4000 miles away. “No I will not!” he answered “you vant zu be a lazy bum running around the world chasing crazy vomans, buy your own breakfast”. I continued hitching to Miami, from where I finally escaped up to Cocoa, where I met an elderly gentleman, over 90, who seemed to be quite stuck. I ran him around doing his errands. Beyond paying bills, his only passion, the only thing he lived for, going to the Baptist Church on Merritt Island for free food and the Sharing Center for free lunch every day. Upon seeing all the volunteers running these operations, I snickered, despite one guy, Wesley, who happens to be Black, was a Navy man based on Aircraft carriers, ‘what crazy people wasting their time like this, nothing I’d ever do’. Then I began talking to some of them. They did not seem to be as crazy as I assumed. I thought about the difference between them and my own family. My brother is rich. Just paid five and a half million for a boat. A summer house on Cape Cod, two million, that his boat is parked behind. Winter house in Sarasota. His main house in Tennessee on 40 acres, ten million. I found myself in a real family I did not know I had. I must have become crazy also, wound up volunteering to fix bikes they give away to less fortunate people with no car. One day a fifty yr. old gentleman named Kurt came in, obviously down on his luck. One of the volunteers, named Henry, unable to find a better word, a phenomenally kind gentleman, with the most gentle soothing voice. A helicopter pilot in Nam, from where we had something in common, myself, Air Force Air Rescue. Only compared to Henry, I’m no gentleman. I saw him talking to Kurt, for at least an hour. When I walked past Henry a little later, I asked; “hey Henry, what did you think ah that dude?” Henry answered with only these words; “he’s a good man”. All I needed to hear. If that was Henry’s opinion. Good enough. I took Kurt home to stay in my house. There was a thirteen year old girl taken from her family by the police. Not in America. Another country. Her name was Ann Frank. Anyone who thinks that cannot happen in America, better think again. With Kurt staying in my house, his story began to unfold. From Missouri. A union electrician over twenty years. Making over fifty thousand a year. Myself being a construction man, familiar with all the trades, I quizzed him without him realizing my motive. He answered every question correctly. Obviously not a druggie. The mother of his child, named Tanner, causing him to lose his house, due to drugs, upon giving birth, she ran away. He had his son from the day they left the hospital. He took off to start a new life in Florida. Three and half year old Tanner began squirming to get out of the child seat. As Kurt reached back to shove him in, the van weaved. A cop happened to see it. He demanded to see the receipt for Kurt’s tools. There is not a tradesman in the country who will have the receipts for the tools he had purchased. Mine go into the can by the door as I leave Home Depot. There is always more to a story. i was not there. But this was the result. Since he could not produce the receipts the police said he stole the tools and impounded the van. His son was taken into child custody. I have taken him to the impound lot and the police station where the police have his tools. Guess the police are the only people who do not know that in America it’s impossible to make a living without a phone and a car and in a tradesman’s case, without his tools. To see a grown man crying literal tears is very disheartening. Kurt became an emotional basket case. I complete wreak He showed no concern about his van or tools. His insanity all around the son. As he is jumping through all the hoops, trying to get permission to see his son. Forty days later, still not even close. All because the police claim, with not one bit of proof, he stole the tools. The impound lot would not let him get any of his personal belongings until he comes up with, as of this writing, $1,300. How is he supposed to make that money without his tools. As usual with government, getting the opposite results of what they claim they are trying to achieve. In all this nightmare, he did get one lucky break. Henry, in one hour, was able to pull off some kind of Miracle. Kurt repeated every word he and Henry had in their conversation. Obviously Kurt was touched and impressed, getting his sanity back and able to start thinking clearly. A future blog may have the ending to this story which has not yet taken place. At this point, we have made several trips to the police station. I did not go in with him. But when he came out, he said the police were very nasty. The van is lost because the fee goes up every day at some severe amount. On that one, the police in Miami did the same thing to me. No one in Miami parks a car anywhere without searching for a no parking sign hidden behind a tree for at least a hundred yards. Excaliber towing could not find my beloved Mustang I had just restored to brand new. After twenty trips to that tow yard, I had no choice but to give up. The police acknowledged they had it impounded, so I had no choice but to conclude it was the police who stole it. The same thing happened to a van I had parked on private property when I went overseas. The tag expired. The van was towed and could not be found, getting brushed off by the police on every visit.