Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Dream Still Alive!

So wonderfully serene,
flora and fauna
red, white, blue and green
the world, our world
so rightfully depicted
in this amazingly gentle scene
I ask of those ...
who may still be afflicted
to surrender and relive the dream!

Ricky J. Fico (Nov. 29, 2016)

Friday, November 25, 2016

Prelude to The Puppet Master

The Puppet Master - A Very True Story is indeed a true story;  in part, my story but also the story of what is happening now in today's world and how most recently, I was again called by God. And because of this, I had been attacked, ostracized, denigrated and mocked by those (the puppets) who are under the heavy influence of Satan him/herself (Chief Puppet Master).

I call this the "Battle of Evermore." and yes, I do reference Led Zeppelin (4th album). 

 The Puppet Master - A Very True Story will inspire, give credence to God's bountiful LOVE  and the power of HIS GUIDANCE. And as I had learned firsthand - if God (or higher power) doesn't exist then neither do I. Perhaps I'd be just a figment of my own imagination.

  Coming soon to bookstores and hopefully theaters near you too!

Firstly, I need not lie to tell you the truth! Secondly, I assure you that I am not delusional or my mind hampered by alcohol or drugs. I've been evaluated, tested and diagnosed by psychologists, psychiatrists and a coterie of happy-faced nurses and orderlies.

I was told that all I may suffer from is a bit of anxiety, which is normal for a man like me....After all, I not only carry a heavy burden but have been ridiculed, spit on, knocked down, mocked and even arrested for which I spent 17 total days in jail - the first three in a hellish dungeon where concrete met concrete and where I assumed I was to meet my fate which included an unannounced early death. And the final fourteen in Lake County Jail, where conditions were better. There the first five days I was a Trustee. I was assigned a Porter position, in which I served other inmates their meals. Before my cart was ready I also volunteered in the kitchen, helping with the preparation of the meal trays. A lazy man I am not!

Still during this time as a Trustee I had to use my wisdom to obstruct some of the troublemakers, one named Arthur- with long stringy hair and rotten teeth. He tried and  tried to undermine me, knock me down. Arthur was the Chief Puppet in the unit and lo and behold, I see on the jail TV - a news report about Hurricane Arthur barreling down on North Carolina or something. No coincidence perhaps! Just like when Hurricane Fico flew over Hawaii back in 1978. Perhaps no coincidence that my name is Fico.

Now a briefing: 

Millennium Park Chicago June 11, 2014.

On June 11, 2014 I took this picture at the beautiful Millennium Park...before boarding the South Shore Train for Hammond, IN where I was to spend the next 27 days when I was intending to spend only two or three days.

As it turned out Hammond became mostly a living hell and during my time there I was stripped of mostly everything (including iPhone, tablet etc.) But what I wasn't stripped of was my dignity, my virtue and my connection to God. And for this I am blessed.

But ah, because of these experiences in Hammond and Lake County, Indiana I am inspired to begin work on my next major publication, in which I am tentatively titling "The Puppet Master." Gonna be a best seller, I just know it and soon the entire world will know it....

The Puppet Master - A Very True Story is another version of the Classic Story - Good vs. Evil! This work is being written in the form of narrative nonfiction! 

In Hammond and Lake County, Indiana as I was being subject to attack by a plethora of negative and evil forces I turned to music, the bible (psalms, proverbs, Romans, Mark, Luke etc.) and of course, God's Good Grace. Yes, sustain me, guide me and strengthen me...
And the music, oh the music.....And now one of its songs: 


Ah yes, Mother Mary speaks to me, "Let it be!" Yes, for times like these I need the wisdom, the strength because God knows, I feel as though the world has turned on me and here, alone and hungry and a bit confused, oh why, oh why and what have I done to deserve these wanton attacks against my very being.... 

FraPan!!! Homestead
It seems as though the Devil Himself has recruited a special army here in Hammond, Indiana to bring me down, perhaps to crucify me.....

 Oh, and Sallie Carsons -the homeowner on the Balt Ave. could well be the General, leading the charge against me..... And she is unequivocally the junior puppet master, dictating to the neighbors who can or not talk to me. She saw me talking to the next door homeowner -  that nice 92 year old neighbor Miss Vicky, who I did chores for like shoveling her walks, driveway etc. in the winter....

 And now, June 12, 2014 Sallie comes flying out of her house when she sees me and Miss Vicky talking. "Don't talk to him, don't talk him!" she dictates to Miss Vicky. But why, I am wondering. After all I am not only a good man, a man of peace but also respect my elders, always have as that is just part of my nature if you really want to know the truth.

 Oh, and I had not only witnessed but heard from others that Sallie has a history of pitting neighbors against neighbors, especially those hard-working good Mexican families who live on the same block. Do you think perhaps Sallie has a problem with good hard-working Mexican families. Do you think she believes that because her own family is from Sicily that she is at a much higher station, that she thinks everybody else who is not from Sicily are beneath her.

Oh, and she used to always try to brag to me. "I'm from Sicily." And I retorted, "Good for you but I am a Florentine. Yes, that's right....my roots extend to Florence, Italy...the BIRTHPLACE of the HIGH RENAISSANCE.

Now, only a few days after me and Josephine had returned from a great trip to Las Vegas I am being attacked and mocked and, and, and....

But I can't fall so easily because I have God and God has me....

Still a battle!!!

 And then, I meet a homeless man in a wheelchair. White guy, bright blue eyes, blondish gray beard. He is by the railroad tracks near Gostlin and Calumet. He is drinking from a 24 oz. can, the cheap dollar beer. But that's his nourishment for he is lonely, sad for the life he inherited from...from...I don't really know. He tells me how cruel black-hearted people knock him off his wheelchair, laugh and mock him, sometimes kick him. I am sickened by this. Why, oh God why? This new friend, he is hungry for the solid nourishment (food) but has no money... for all his previous pennies went to the Nick's Liquor Store for the 24 oz. lager.

I tell him that a bit later I will go to the Aldi Food Store on Calumet and buy him some food and bring it back to his makeshift campsite. I am reminded of a song, a good song by James Taylor

Met a man on the roadside crying....

Later, I do some lawn work etc. on the Sallie Balt. Homestead. Only reason I am able to do it this time is because Sallie is not there to stop me like she did before on three separate occasions. Me doing some work like this has been part of the agreement that me and Sallie had for a reduction in my rent for the back apartment, in which incidentally is fully paid until June 30, 2014. For Sallie to stop me is a mystery unless she is trying to set me up to make it look like I reneged on the agreement. Shoot, I bet this is the real reason....

I begin my walk toward the Aldi Food Store on Calumet to do as planned (secure some victuals for the wheelchair- bound homeless man named Scot).

Nearby, that spiritual lady on the corner who sometimes talks to herself, who wears the Star David around her neck waves to me. I approach her, understand her as she previously revealed to me her heritage, her family tree and her heartbreak of losing members of her own Polish family to the Holocaust. 

She is crying. I hug her, to comfort her, to assure her that I am a friend.... And then out of nowhere, perhaps  somewhere I hear the voices of confusion: "Stop hugging my mother! Leave her alone!" I turn around. The skinny blond girl with the two sons, Israel and Issac (who some claim are handicapped but are not) is the one yelling. And then I turn the other way. I see Sallie pull up. I then see her daughter Faylena and her husband Beebe also exit the vehicle. I pick up pace, telling myself I must make it to the Aldi Food Store. But then, three vehicles registered to the Hammond Police Dept. converge on me as if I am a criminal or something. But I am not!  

After useless minimal interrogation I am handcuffed and put into one of the vehicles and after useless pleading I am driven to their dungeon, where I will be charged with P.I. (Public Intoxication) and Resisting Arrest. The bond? $20,000! To get out, a mere $2000. And now I am to begin a 17 day sentence and for this I have many question marks. A song, many songs are in my head now. I will share these with you, right here, right now. I thank you for listening. It means so much to me, it really does....

And in jail, many oppressors but also many brothers. After the transfer from the Hammond Dungeon to the Lake County Jail, I learn to breathe again. I survived the three day tortuous hell-hole where cement met cement, where cold shook the bones, where no windows darkened the soul.... Yes, thank you my dear God Father for keeping me alive.... I have work to do, lots of it. And you know I do, my dear Father God. After all, it is You who had commissioned me.

In jail, at times, I feel like I'm actually in a movie. Many of the inmates and even the guards seem as though they are following a script - some of them even are look-alike to Hollywood actors - one, he looks just like a younger Harrison Ford, and another - Mel Gibson.  And another thing, the words and actions coming from many of these other inmates and guards - as if they know me or know about me. But how could this be? I am new here, new to Indiana and am new to the penal system. As a matter of fact, had not been in jail more than fifteen days my entire life - lucky me, have no felonies on my record, only a few silly misdemeanors. But then again, I had never committed a crime that warranted a felony against my being.

After 17 days...on the bright July Seven morning I salute the skies. I am then ushered into the dark windowless van - aimed to transport me from Crown Point to the Hammond Court, where I am ultimately ordered released -  as a result of me pleading guilty and given the consideration of time served.

The dark windowless van returns to me to Crown Point, where I will change from my gray striped jail suit back into the now very musty street clothes, from which I came.

In two days I will leave Indiana, leave Hammond. But before I do I still must fight as for some I am still the enemy. How sad, how imperfect we all may still be...

During my hold-up in Hammond, I am again attacked by strange people, people I don't know. My life was again threatened. Again I ask that same question: Who are these people?

And then, finally, thankfully I board the South Shore train. I am going to downtown Chicago, my home, my true home....Ah, the parks, the lakefront, the beaches, the good people. Thank you dear God Father for providing me this July morning. Thank you for also choosing me.... I am blessed. 

And so for two days and two nights I stayed on the Lakefront and traveled its bike paths, spent quality time on Montrose  Avenue Beach, North Avenue Beach, Oak Street Beach and many points in between. I had met many a good soul, who shared their food and beer with me, allowed me to be me, allowed me to rejoice to the music, the good conversation, this time though, I wouldn't go too philosophically deep ... for that would need to wait for perhaps another time.

Ah dear God Father, on these July and now August days let us rejoice, let us enjoy the freedoms that you offer....For your divine pleasure is also our pleasure and for this I am indebted and for this I, too, am eternally grateful....
And this concludes the preview of THE PUPPET MASTER.

Note: Looking back at these events in my life from 2014 I must now contend that they were just a foreshadowing of things to come. (December 5, 2016)

Tuesday, November 22, 2016


Trump On Campaign Trail

I had heard  Donald Trump say, "I'm going to make America great again!" This has been his slogan, his tagline, his campaign pledge. What does he really mean by this, I must ask myself! When did he first decide that "America isn't great?" I really need to know if you really want to know the truth. Why? Because I must understand better the factors that he has chosen to declare that "America isn't great!" Is it the economy? Is it our cultural diversity? Is it that we've a black president now? Or is it a combination of these factors?

To get a better picture of perhaps Donald Trump's true agenda, his motivations, his proclivities I must use the past, his past as a guide, a road map if you will. I must listen more closely to his proclamations, his sometime-inflamed rhetoric, both on the campaign trail and in private.

I must always remember a simple truth: "Don't always believe what you see or  what you hear!" Ah, but I must often rely on what I feel - sometimes driven by my own conscience or at times, by means that are beyond this realm.

Firstly, let me clarify a valiant point: I as an optimist and one who seeks harmony versus dissension wants nothing more than Donald Trump being a successful president. I want nothing more than seeing this country come together and not falling apart. I don't want to see clashes between races, between cultures, between male and female, between those in the city and those in the rural areas. I don't want to see deadly clashes between the so-called left and right.

(to be continued)