Neothink
Superpuzzle®

NEOTHINK® BOOKS
Published by The Neothink® Society
Copyright ©Mark Hamilton, 1999, 2000, 2003, 2006, 2012, 2022
All rights reserved
Hamilton, Mark
The Super Puzzle
Library of Congress #89-85937
Printed in the United States of America
Original Edition 1999 -2000 over 100,000 copies sold
New Edition
November 2003[PP-CTS] [7,900]
July 2006 [CL-MAS][51,258]
February 2008 [CL-MAS][30,101]
February 2010 [PP-MAS] [2,120]
June 2010 [PP-MAS] [2,934]
October 2010[PP-MAS] [2,500]
December 2010[PP-MAS] [8,752]
December 2011[SHAM-MAS] [3,120]
June 2012 [SHAM-MAS] [1,500]
October 2012[PP-NTIII] [5,228]
May 2013 [PP-NTIII][11,168]
August 2013 [PP-NTIII][26,408]
April 2014[PP-NTIII] [26,619]
March 2015 [PP-NTIII][28,400]
September 2016[PP-NTIII] [17,400]
January 2018 [PP-NTIII][11,383]
September 2018[PP-NTIII] [15,950]
June 2019 [PP-NTIII][5,580]
December 2019[PP-NTIII] [5,800]
April 2020[PP-NTIII] [5,984]
August 2020 [PP-NTIII][5,890]
February 2021 [PP-NTIII] [2,120]
April 2021 [PP-NTIII] [5,496]
September 2021 [PP-NTIII] [5,129]
April 2022 [ACP-TSP] [10,000]

Table of Contents


Part One…
Conceiving the Superpuzzle
The Secret Society Begins
1
Part Two…
Putting Together the Pieces
The Secret Society Reunites
431
Part Three…
Beholding the Puzzle-Picture
The Secret Society Triumphs
821

Conceiving The
Superpuzzle

Book One Of
Superpuzzle
1 of 3

The Secret Society Begins

—————————–—–
A Word From The Author
—————————–—–

It’s true: there are now a handful of immortals on Earth,
which has been kept secret. They are Earth’s first immortals,
and they reside deep within the Society of Secrets. Members
within the Society of Secrets join Earth’s first immortals each
year. In fact, that has been the secret mission of the world’s
most powerful secret society for the past four decades.

The story that follows takes you deep inside the highly-guarded,
inner circle of the Society of Secrets, deep into the heart
of the secret society — into its secret mission. I tell you the
story from the beginning, starting when Earth’s first immortals
were just children, when the superpuzzle was conceived. In order
to communicate this story that involves explicit details deep inside
the highly-guarded walls of a secret society, I had to develop a
new writing form, which I call faction.

Faction is not a new word, but I am creating a new definition.
Faction puts the fact into fiction…faction. But the factional story
in your hands does much more than simply blend fact with
fiction. It builds an unbroken line of logic based on the facts,
which defines faction. Although the story line can cross over
into fiction, the line of logic is pure nonfiction.

Faction was the only way I could bring to you the ongoing,
greatest kept secret of all time. Indeed, faction was the only
way I could bring you the goings-on deep within the world’s
most powerful secret society and expose the details of its most
secret mission: bringing us Earth’s first immortals.

3

————————
CONTENTS
————————

Book One
Conceiving The
Superpuzzle

I. Miracle Year ………….. 7
II. Separation………………. 263
III. Reunion …………………. 351

5

I.
Miracle Year

————————
Chapter
One
————————

The fraternity brothers and sorority sisters gathered around
the television. “Five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”
The party in the Sigma Chi fraternity house suddenly turned
into a kissing free-for-all. Everyone joined in…except Jake. He
never looked away from the television as the host recounted the
three major discoveries made during the year that just ended.
“Will the magic continue in the new year, after a year that’ll
go down in history in medicine, economics, and physics?” the
host was saying.
“Humanity will forever honor Dr. Sally Salberg for her
miracle molecules that plug up the receptor sites of the influenza
virus, making it unable to attach to and attack our living cells,
rendering all strains of the virus harmless to humans. Dr.
Salberg’s discovery, that will save millions of lives, came by a
sort of twist of fate as she was working on a radically different
approach to curing cancer. We can only hope that her genius
can bring us that cure someday, too. I speak for humanity, and
from the bottom of my heart, when I say, ‘Thank you, Dr.
Salberg.’
“Shifting to economics, millions of ordinary working men and
women are forever grateful to software genius, Theodore Winters,
who brought us the internet software called:
‘A Company Without a Company/Without a Country’.

9

His groundbreaking software
lets people build and run multi-million-dollar companies all over
the world…right out of their homes or right on their laptops.
Through his controversial phantom-bantam-company method, the
company itself seems to vanish as it becomes impossible for
governments to determine what country it belongs to in order
to tax the corporate profits. His World-Wide-Web software gives
entrepreneurs one major advantage: without profits being taxed,
the many new companies-without-a-company/without-a-country
can pour money back into their businesses. Therefore, they’re
thriving and growing around the world. In less than two years,
millions of new entrepreneurs hiring tens of millions of new
employees have nearly eliminated unemployment in some
countries, generating trillions of dollars worldwide in annual
employee income taxes, a good portion of that going to the IRS
itself. A bill in the House of Representatives to outlaw ‘A
Company Without a Company/Without a Country’ seems to be
losing support. Too many people want it, and politicians seem
afraid to vote against it. So it appears Mr. Winters — the man
who never finished high school, the richest man alive — will
go down in history as the hero who essentially eliminated
unemployment, not as the villain who cheated the government,
as Capitol Hill would have it.
“And, of course, shifting to physics, we’ll never forget last
January when the world watched the proof unfold, right before
our very eyes, to Dr. Ian Scott’s theory of an ether, otherwise
known as an invisible existence field made up of the tiniest
subatomic particles he calls gravity units. Never will we forget
the dramatic half-time show that upstaged last year’s Super
Bowl…as 75,000 fans pushed the buttons installed on their chairs
each time they saw one of the sixty green laser lights that flashed
during the laser-light show. People around the world watched
as the 75,000 fans pushed their buttons sixty different times,
causing four-and-a-half million registered impulses. As you
know, those four-and-a-half million impulses were being captured
and displayed on a big-screen computer terminal. As they were
being captured, they dramatically formed into the pattern of the
double sine waves:

10

“Before the experiment, Dr. Scott explained why, given the
speed of Earth’s revolution around the Sun relative to the
different locations of the people in the football stadium, the fans’
impulses forming the double sine waves could only mean a field
of invisible matter — an ether — was affecting the light and
the fans’ perception of it, relative to where they were sitting.
The moment people around the world knew an ether existed, Dr.
Scott’s exciting follow-up question rose in their minds: could the
existence field work like a super-advanced quantum computer,
as the circuitry to a Universal Computer into which advanced
conscious beings download their knowledge? The theory now
abounds among physicists. Tapping into such a Universal
Computer would mean tapping into all knowledge in the
Universe, unlocking the secrets of the Universe, perhaps Dr.
Scott’s next great discovery.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let us go now to the three young
heroes — the favorites to win the Nobel Prize in medicine,
economics, and physics. …Hello, Dr. Salberg, Mr. Winters, and
Dr. Scott!”
The satellite feed went to the three phenoms for a few words.
Each of them took a few minutes from their private New Year’s
Eve parties to answer questions. Jake’s eyes widened. The three
heroes looked about the same young age…somewhere in their
mid-30s. He strained to hear them through the slurred singing
of Auld Lang Syne in the frat house. Curing the flu, ending
unemployment, tapping into universal knowledge…wow, Jake
pondered, they represent our first clues of what’s to come in the
twenty-first century.
Thirty minutes later, Jake wrestled his way through a half
dozen of the fraternity’s “little sisters” who hugged him and did
not want to let go as he tried to leave.

11

After a 10-yard drive, he broke free and went back to his dorm room and logged onto
the Internet. After a few minutes with some search engines, he
learned that the three heroes were exactly the same age. That
astonished him and caused him to start looking for other common
denominators.
At about 1:30 in the morning, Jake discovered something that
made his mouth drop open: the sensational three went to the same
elementary school! They did not attend the same high school
or college. Now, this had Jake thinking. If they had, by chance,
gone to the same university, Jake could possibly understand
that…but the same elementary school?

*

Jake loved to solve a good mystery. So, with no classes until
next semester, and a week off from his part-time job as a waiter
at Steaks & Wines, Jake got in his black Grand Cherokee Jeep
early in the morning of the third of January and drove to
Cheektowaga, New York, 455 miles away, where the three
phenoms attended Duncan Elementary School about twenty-five
years before.
He arrived at the small town early in the evening and checked
into a small motel. He drove around the town that evening
wondering: how could the three most sensational accomplishers
in the world come out of this little blue-collar town, and all three
at the same time? What did they have in common here?
The next day, after having spent the morning on the Internet
further researching those three super achievers, Jake walked into
Duncan Elementary School around one o’clock in the afternoon.
Only two people seemed to be there. Jake started asking the
pleasant young receptionist some questions. She was aware that
the three big names had gone to school there, but she did not
know much more about them other than that.
As Jake asked the young woman a few more questions, the
janitor who had been in the room cleaning the floor approached
the two of them with mop in hand. He was a kind black man
approaching sixty.

12

“Excuse me, I overheard your questions,” he said. Leaning
against the handle of his mop, the janitor continued with a hint
of pride, “I’ve worked here for over 30 years, and I personally
knew those kids.”
Jake felt as though he hit the jackpot, and he started asking
the janitor questions, trying to find a clue to perhaps something
that might have had an influence over those three great achievers.
But the janitor seemed to be a step ahead of Jake’s questions,
as if he already knew what Jake was looking for and was guiding
him to it.

“Those three kids were in the same third-grade class together,
you know,” the janitor said.
“You mean, they had the same teacher?” Jake asked.
“Yup, they sure did.”
“Did they have any other classes together here?”
“Nope, only third grade.”
“Do you remember much about their third-grade teacher?”
The janitor motioned for Jake to step outside with him.
Outside, the air was crisp, but Jake and the janitor stood in the
sun, and there was no wind. It felt good.
“So, do you remember what their third-grade teacher was
like?” Jake asked again.
“Oh yes…I’ll never forget her,” the older man said. He
smiled. “And to answer the question you’ve been searching for,
she was the launching pad for those three kids.”
Jake felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl. “Can you
tell me about her?”
“I can tell you,” the janitor said. Then he began telling the
story, with unmistakable love in his voice…
“Oh yes…I remember that September morning when I saw
Miss Annabelle for the first time. She was standing outside the
school, not in her classroom like the other teachers. She was
so beautiful, yet so reachable; she was different than anyone I
ever met, even to this day…
“She was smiling and saying hello to all the children as they
came in. From the moment I saw her, I knew she loved children,
and it was almost as if she knew her time here would be limited,
so she absorbed every moment right from the start.
“I couldn’t help myself; I followed her to her classroom. She
went inside and closed the door. I stood next to the door and
listened through the glass panel.

13

She…she started singing The Impossible Dream from the play Don Quixote.
The kids were laughing. They must’ve thought she was crazy, until she
finished…wow, what she said to those kids. I wish someone
said that to me when I was in third grade. I’ll never forget it…”

*

“Don Quixote chased after an impossible dream,” began the
lovely Miss Annabelle, “but he was insane. His golden helmet
was a tin shaving cup. His enemies were windmills. He was
a crazy old man who lived in a world of illusions. You, too,
live in a world of illusions. This world we live in will have
you think you’re crazy to go after your dreams. But I’m here
to show you that you can go after and achieve your dreams.
Those dreams are NOT impossible, and you are NOT crazy to
go after your dreams. In fact, seemingly impossible dreams can
be achieved routinely when you have the power to see through
appearances to the essence of things. This year, I’ll teach you
how to do that. Don Quixote was a powerless dream chaser in
a world of illusions. You, beautiful children, will grow up to
become powerful dream doers in a world of reality. My dream
is to be sure you do. This year, I’ll: 1) properly educate you
in the basics of math, science, literature, and history, and 2) teach
you how to think in integrated concepts and to see past all the
powerless appearances to the powerful essences. It is my dream
for you children not to live the normal blasé life that appears
before us, but to dig deeper at life to build great achievements
and happiness. And because I’ll go after my dream, some people
around here might start calling me a crazy person. I sort of
expect it. But, when you go to the essence of things, which is
how I’m going to teach you, then no outside appearances make
any difference at all. I’ll be focused on the essence of educating
you. Sometimes in this world, you must forge ahead when you
reach through to the essence, no matter what appearances develop
around you. You must forge ahead to do what you know at its
essence is right.
“So, how many of you want to grow up and do great things
with your lives?” All hands shot up.

14

“How many want to make things people want to buy, and make a lot of money?”
Every hand went up with no depreciation
of enthusiasm. Miss Annabelle kept on:
“What is the reason for living?” Such a philosophical
question to eight-year-olds would normally silence the group.
But, of her twelve students, four hands went up. Miss Annabelle
pointed to the boy in the back. “Stand up, state your name, then
give me your answer.”
“My name is Danny Ward. I want to build tall buildings
when I grow up.” With that comment, every hand in the class
went up within about five seconds or less. Each child wanted
to tell what he or she wanted to do when grown up. Miss
Annabelle, who cleverly led the class to this charged-up
introduction of names and dreams, had each child stand up and
tell his or her name followed by his or her dream. From then
on, each child’s dream took on a new dimension, for the child
was using his or her dream to answer the question, “What is
the reason for living?”
After all twelve children introduced themselves and their
dreams, Miss Annabelle continued the stampede of thoughts:
“When you told me your dreams, I saw in the eyes of each and
every one of you the sparkle of happiness. Happiness is the
reason for living. And achieving your dreams is the way to
generate happiness. And, as I told you, each one of you will
grow up to achieve your dreams. Your journey began when you
walked through my door, and it is a journey of no return.”
The eight-year-olds sat at attention. Not one child had
yawned. They never, not ever in preschool, kindergarten, first
or second grade, or at home, had ever been talked to like this.
Twelve wonderful children were awestruck; they were falling in
love with Miss Annabelle.
“This week and next, we’ll work hard on the basics. A week
from this Saturday, I’m planning a camp-out at Lake Pinewood
for those who want to enjoy a night in the wilderness. I’ll need
four parents to volunteer to go. Bring me a note by Wednesday
signed by a parent if you’re going. And let me know if your
mom or dad can volunteer to join us.”
Over the next two weeks, the children and their teacher grew
close.

15

The janitor stopped telling the story and started studying
Jake’s face. For a moment, Jake wondered if the janitor were
going to continue.
Finally he said, “When it was all over, she left me her diary,
which included her private thoughts during that miracle year.”
“When it was all over?” Jake asked.
After another searching look and long pause, the janitor
cautiously continued, “I’ll tell you the full story, son, from my
own observations, from things her students told me, and from
her private diary. But you have to promise me something.”
“Sure. What’s that?” Jake said.
“If you tell others the story, you must tell it like it was, not
like the papers told it.”
“Yes…I promise,” Jake said sincerely.
The tall black man seemed so careful and caring, Jake forgot
to ask, “Why? Why did she give you her private diary?” But
the janitor anticipated the question and asked it for him:
“Do you know why she gave me her diary?” he said.
“She didn’t…die, did she?” Jake asked.
“No! Well, not physically anyway. She gave me her diary
because she wanted my wife and me and her students to know
how much she loved us.”
“What happened here? What happened to her?” Jake asked.
“To understand, you need to know everything from beginning
to end.”
Then, the janitor continued telling Jake the story…

*

When Saturday came, it was a beautiful September day for
the camping trip. Miss Annabelle felt flattered, for all twelve
students showed up by noon at the school with eight
parents…quite a turnout for a Saturday overnight excursion!
They loaded two Vans, two Suburbans, and a pickup truck
with sleeping bags, blankets, food, and people. They brought
tents, but only as a precaution, for Lake Pinewood Campground
was famous for the soft beds of fallen pine needles. They had
decided to sleep tentless under the stars.

16

The forty-minute drive
to Lake Pinewood Campground passed quickly. The children
barely noticed the green countryside and farm animals as they
played rock, scissors, paper, or sang with the radio or, for most
of the drive, told the scary ghost stories they had planned to tell
later when it was dark.
When they arrived at Lake Pinewood, the windows came
down as cheers trumpeted from the five vehicles, announcing to
the campsite the kids had arrived. Miss Annabelle took a deep
breath of the fresh air. She loved the minty smell, the green
pine trees, the brown bed of soft pine needles, the lake and its
cool breeze. Everything here was soft — the soft smells, soft
ground, soft sounds of fish jumping, birds chirping, and little
waves breaking.

*

That night after roasting marshmallows and telling ghost
stories, they lay zipped tight in their sleeping bags. As they lay
on their backs and looked above into the cloudless night, their
vision seemed to skip right past the invisible sky and into space,
filled with big bright stars. The night was still; Miss Annabelle
talked in a relaxed voice, “The first day of school you each told
me your dreams in life. I wonder if any of you can think of a
common denominator beneath those twelve dreams?”
“What’s a common denominator?”
“Something in common. What’s something in common
among your twelve different dreams?”
The parents were a bit surprised by the deep level of the
discussion with their eight-year-olds. And they were even more
surprised by their children’s responses that were perhaps more
thought out than the parents’ own thoughts about their own
dreams:
“They all made us happy,” Sally said.
Miss Annabelle smiled in the dark and whispered, “Yes, and
what else?”
“They all were valuable to others,” Danny added.
“Yes!” Miss Annabelle said, her voice radiating with pride,
“I am impressed with you children. Those are two common
denominators beneath your different dreams.

17

Achieving your
dreams involves building values for others, which in turn brings
pride and happiness to you. Now, I want you to know that your
specific dream may change someday. Dreams sometimes do that.
And sometimes, when we get close to going out on our own after
high school and college, we’re not sure what we want to do,
and no dreams step up to bat as they did for you the first day
of school. If that happens to you, I want you to remember that
sometimes life gets very complicated. When you are almost
grown up and aren’t sure what to do with your life, remember
back to when you were in Third Grade…you already knew the
answer, which I will repeat: Achieving dreams comes from
building values.
“In whatever you do, put full effort towards building values
— not just getting the most for doing the least like so many
people today. Put your focus on building values to get on the
winning path in life. Building values for society, no matter what
you’re doing, will bring you success, pride, and happiness. As
your momentum grows, you’ll naturally form new dreams; then,
as your momentum grows, you’ll achieve them.”
When Miss Annabelle stopped talking, no one said anything
because they were still listening to her words in their minds.
After a stretch of silence occasionally broken by a few young
people’s yawns, Miss Annabelle read a number of the campers’
thoughts when she said, “Isn’t it beautiful up there?”
“Have you ever wondered where it all came from?” one
mother said.
“From God,” another mom softly said.
“Miss Annabelle, would Charles Darwin say that God created
the Universe?” Ian asked.
“Yes, Ian, he probably would have,” Miss Annabelle
answered. “Charles Darwin desperately wanted to keep a place
for God and a place for Natural Selection. …By the way, the
kids have been studying Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution
by Natural Selection the past week,” she explained to the parents.
“But there’s something I haven’t told you about Natural Selection.
“Before Natural Selection, the whole world believed that the
beautiful animal kingdom, including man, was God’s creation.
Before Darwin and Natural Selection, there simply was no other
rational way to explain intelligent man, beautiful animals, and
perfectly complex ecosystems.

18

When Darwin released his Theory
of Evolution, the world was stunned. There, before them, after
thousands of years of thinking a Majestic Creation made man,
was overwhelming scientific evidence that told us man, animals,
the ecosystem came not from a divine plan, but merely by
chance. Before Darwin, a scientific explanation for the world
around them was simply beyond their scope of knowledge.
“When I look at the stars above, I feel that our knowledge
about the Universe is sort of like our knowledge about the world
before Darwin. Majestic Creation is perhaps our best possible
explanation now, yet I wonder if someday science will explain
it all. Throughout all of history, when something goes beyond
man’s scope of knowledge, humanity always turned to God
as the explanation…until science caught up and solved the
mystery.”
Miss Annabelle had just questioned the existence of God
before twelve students and eight parents, but her voice, with
traces of English accent picked up from her English nanny while
growing up, was so sincere and lovely; even the adults seemed
to find solace in her wandering thoughts, and no one objected.

*

Miss Annabelle was singing as the children came into the
classroom and sat in their chairs. They enjoyed watching their
teacher; she was an image of beauty with a sweet voice. She
stopped, which broke the enchantment. “How old are you?” she
asked.
“NINE!” Seemed to drown out the eights, although she knew
the ratio would certainly favor the eight-year-olds.
“So, you’re eight or nine already. You’re growing up fast.
Who of you have ever thought about love?” Four or five hands
went halfway up, but came down quickly in reaction to the
snickers and giggles. Miss Annabelle could not hold back her
own giggle, delighted by the children’s innocence.
“Someday, love will become one of the most important events
in your lives. So today, I’d like to talk just a little about love.”
She looked around at the twelve little blushing faces. After a
moment, their nervous giggles turned to curiosity.

19

They want
to know, she said to herself; they’re ready to hear this, and I’m
going to tell them.
“I hear more and more these days that men and women have
to be equals at everything they do. But let’s see through to the
essence of things.”
“But shouldn’t they be equal, Miss Annabelle?” Nattie asked.
“When talking about life in general, you’re absolutely right.
But when in love, everything changes.”
“Let’s go to the essence,” wide-eyed Teddy requested. That
expression had become a sort of motto in Miss Annabelle’s class
over the past couple of weeks. When teacher or student wanted
to fully understand something, someone usually said, “Let’s go
to the essence.”
“OK, let’s do,” she said. “What is the essence of love? I
know you kids can get this one.”
A number of answers filled the room:
“To tell each other secrets.”
“No…to have someone to pick out your clothes.”
“To be together — like going to the movies.”
“Someone to grow old with.”
“To have babies.”
“To take care of the kids.”
“You’re all on the right track,” said Miss Annabelle, “but go
down to the common denominator that makes all those things
happen. Remember, common denominators can help us get down
to the essence.”
Cathy, who silently suffered the toll of witnessing frequent
fights between her parents, somberly said, “The essence of love
is to be happy.”
“Yes!” Miss Annabelle shrieked, startling Cathy, causing a
tiny smile to crack her face. “To be happy! Don’t ever forget
that. Now, I’ll tell you what is needed to be happy.”
At this moment, the door to the classroom opened, and in
walked Mr. Burke, the school’s guidance counselor. He walked
to the back of the room and sat at an empty desk.

20

The
children all got tense, but Miss Annabelle quickly removed
their anxieties:
“Are we not talking about the essence of something here?
Remember what I’ve told you: once you get through to the
essence of something, then no outside force can be of any
influence. No one can change the essence of love, no matter
what they might say or do.”
Mr. Burke looked surprised by the subject matter and
ironically became tense himself, while the kids relaxed. A voice
then floated through the air, “Miss Annabelle, I want to know
what love is.”
“Of course, Nattie. Love is your reward in life — your
reward for making values. Love is your way to be happy. Who
remembers how you make happiness?”
“Building values for the world!” Teddy shouted.
“Yes, Teddy! And true love is the time two people take
together to feel that happiness. Do not fall in love for any other
reason than to be happy. No matter what others say about love
and what it should be, the essence of love is to be happy. The
person you fall in love with must be someone with whom you
can celebrate your life and be happy.
“Whereas men and women both make or build values, they
sometimes do so differently. A man will be happiest building
values for the world through his work. A woman can be happy
that way, too, and by making values for her husband, even
helping him build his values.”
At this moment three hands went up.
“Yes, Sally?”
“Isn’t a man happy from helping his wife build her values?”
“Sally, when you grow up, you can go as far as any man in
any career you choose. Your mind can do what any man’s mind
can do. But when you get married, you’re going to want a man
you can look up to and admire…someone driving on his own
value production, not someone who depends on your value
production. It has to do with the nature of man and woman,
and, no matter what we are told, never deny your nature. You,
as a woman, want to fall in love with your hero, not your
assistant.”
“Yeah,” Sally sighed, getting lost in a dreamy fantasy.
In the back of the room, Mr. Burke sat with his arms folded.

21

Miss Annabelle could not help thinking how the boys, at that
moment, looked like mature little men while Mr. Burke looked
like an immature big boy.
“That’s enough about love today,” Miss Annabelle announced,
but she was surprised by the moans of disappointment among
her little audience who obviously wanted more.
“But Miss Annabelle, what about, you know…” Reggie said
shyly.
“Yeah, like going all the way,” a more confident Danny said.
Miss Annabelle was shocked to see the class looking at her
seriously. Some of the kids knew what Danny meant, some did
not. But no one was giggling. Things sure have changed since
I was a girl, she thought; I didn’t even know what getting to
first base was for another four or five years. …Kids grow up
so fast these days.
Miss Annabelle studied her students’ faces. They really
want…and need…to know from me, she realized. Although
romance at any level is several years away, she thought, they
need to understand romantic relationships from me in order to
shape and be ready for their futures and to protect themselves.
The children knew that whatever Miss Annabelle told them
was different from what others told them. What she told them
cut through appearances to what was real, what was best. After
a long pause, she said, “OK, kids…” But before she could
continue, an amazed Mr. Burke in the back cleared his throat
loudly. His obvious disapproval, however, did not stop Miss
Annabelle. One sweeping glance across the twelve sets of eyes
transfixed on her told her they were crying out for competent
knowledge about future intimacy. They needed to know now
to prepare psychologically for their futures.
“Romance. That one word opens a whole new world to you
when you’re older. Its emotional repercussions and physical
consequences throughout your life are major.” Miss Annabelle
liked to throw big words at her eight and nine-year-olds from
time to time. “The older you are, the better you’ll handle the
vast world of romance. You must always treat romance as
important, especially you girls.” “Why?” one little girl
named Debbie asked, trying to remain anonymous.

22

“For one thing, you can become pregnant. But you’ll hear
a lot about that from others. What you will not hear about, I’m
going to tell you now: When a woman has romance with a man,
she’s giving herself to him physically and emotionally, which
means she’s giving her body and heart to him. She’s saying,
‘Take me…I’m yours.’ The man she chooses must be a man
she looks up to and admires…or she is devaluing herself.”
“Do men give themselves to their women?” Al asked
innocently.
Miss Annabelle smiled affectionately and said, “They do give
all of their love to their true love, darling. But a man does not
physically and psychologically surrender himself, not like a
woman does. For one thing, when they have romance, the man
is larger and stronger, and the woman allows herself to be taken
and gives her body and heart to that one man who deserves her
— that valuable man building important values for society whom
she looks up to.”
By now, Mr. Burke would not stop writing down notes in
the back of the room, but Miss Annabelle would not stop talking
until she felt the essence of a romantic relationship was planted.
She thought, if I don’t do this, no one ever will.
“The man she chooses to give herself to reflects back every
day her own self-image and self-worth. Now, maybe you can
see why a woman is deeply happy with a man she looks up to,”
she continued. “And now, maybe you can see why she can be
happy helping him build his values. The more he accomplishes
for the world, the more her happiness grows.
“On the other hand, it is very important for you men to find
the woman who understands values, for she will love you deeply
and devotedly for being a man who builds values. She will look
up to you as the real catch.”
Of course, Miss Annabelle knew that many of the kids did
not understand everything she said and that most probably did
not even know the details of lovemaking. But she felt she said
enough to plant a sense of man/woman physical/psychological
relationships and their life-changing importance. So now, she
wrapped up the love discussion and tied it back to where they
started today:
“So, back to what I said earlier, do not get confused by what
you might hear about how love should be. The mixed-up world
around you will take away your nature as man and woman.

23

For instance, do not listen to that women lib talk. That talk is the
first to balk at the idea of a woman giving herself to a man in
an intimate relationship. Women’s lib causes millions of women
to deny their nature, which takes away the deepest happiness in
a woman’s life of being in love with a man she can look up to
and admire, a man she can privately surrender to. Of course,
girls, remember you can go as far as any man in any career,
but your husband must be someone special — that productive
man you can look up to.
“Now, boys and girls, I want you to get out your Math books.
It’s time to get into numbers…”
Mr. Burke got up and left the room.

24

————————
Chapter
Two
————————

Jake had planned to drive back to Boston that first night. But
he knew the janitor’s story about Miss Annabelle had just begun.
And from what Jake heard so far, the three heroes of the new
century had their start right there in the third grade, twenty-seven
years ago in Miss Annabelle’s classroom. Indeed, the three
heroes made radical shifts from grooved-in appearances in their
fields; they cut through to the essence in physics, medicine, and
business.
Jake asked the janitor if they could spend some time together
over the next couple of days.
“Sir, in honor of Miss Annabelle, I’d find it a privilege to
tell you the whole story, ’cause if I don’t, Lord knows the world
will never know what happened here.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asked.
The janitor’s face seemed to be full of emotions as he gazed
at the horizon; he said, “My god, I sometimes imagine what
could have been. …Yeah, we’ll spend some time talking; you’ll
find out soon enough. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Thank you, Mister…”
“Jessie…call me Jessie.”
“Thank you, Jessie. My name’s Jake…I’m attending Boston
University.”

25

“Are you writing a story for the college paper?” Jessie asked.
“You know, Jessie, I’m minoring in journalism, but I came
here only out of curiosity. Now, it seems to be more than
that…like I’m going to discover powerful ideas about life. But
whatever I do with this story, I’ll split the credit and, if the story
sells, I’ll split the money with you. We’re partners, OK?”
“Ah, that’s not necessary, Jake. I’m happy with my life here.
I don’t need nothin’. If you sell a story, my only price is that
you tell it like it happened.”
“You really care about Miss Annabelle, don’t you?”
That statement seemed to surprise Jessie. He paused,
remembering her, then said, “Yeah, I really do.” A somber look
came over his honest face. He hesitated as if he were going to
say more, but instead gestured for Jake to come along.
They walked back inside the school, down a hallway lined
with red lockers to the first door on the right.
“Tomorrow, I’ll show you Miss Annabelle’s old room,” Jessie
promised.
“Whatever happened to her?” Jake asked, feeling the urge to
meet the former third-grade teacher.
“Ah, you’ll find out. But ya gotta hear it in order, my man.”
Jessie was smiling. “Oh, and Jake, you’re staying with me and
the Mrs. We’re going to need to spend some nights doing lots
of talking to get you back to school in time for next semester.”
They turned into the little room with the time clock. Jessie
said he didn’t have to work on January 4th, but he came in for
a few hours to wax the floors while no one was in. He walked
past the time clock without punching his time card, for he hadn’t
clocked in. They walked straight through the small room to the
back door. Jessie lifted his worn red and black flannel jacket
off the only hook on the wall, and they left through the back
door. The temperature had fallen, and the condensation from
their warm breaths blew back into their faces. They walked
through the school’s side parking lot to Jessie’s old beat-up
Plymouth Fury parked alongside three other newer cars.
“I’ll drive you around to your car,” Jessie said.
Jessie unlocked the passenger door first, saying something
about the lock only working with the key, and went around to
open his own door. Jake stood next to the car looking at his
new friend.

26

“Jessie, I really appreciate what you’re doing.”
“No, I appreciate what you’re doing, Jake. For twenty-seven
years, I’ve waited for someone like you to come along.” Then,
Jessie looked down at his hands fumbling with the keys, and
added, “I only hope it’s not too late for Miss Annabelle.”
“What happened to her? What happened to Miss Annabelle?”
But Jessie only smiled and whispered, “You must hear her
story, first.”

*

Jessie followed Jake to the motel. Jake got his things and
checked out. Then he got in his car and followed Jessie. After
a five-minute drive through the suburbs, they pulled into Jessie’s
driveway. Jake looked at the small but nicely manicured house
and lawn: new paint, trimmed bushes and trees, a recently raked
lawn. Jake could see that Jessie was a proud man.
“Yeah, this is where I’ve parked it for over 30 years. House
and car are paid for. Me and the Mrs. drive to Florida for a
week every year. We’re happy.” As Jessie said the words we’re
happy, Jake felt as if those two words summed up the meaning
of Jessie’s life. Without a lot of monetary success per se, Jake
sensed the summary of Jessie’s life, ‘we’re happy’, had come
from a life of honesty.
As they stepped inside, a pleasant lady’s voice called out,
“Darling, you’re home!”
Instinctively, Jessie leaned over and removed his shoes. Jake
followed his lead. The house was warm, and taking off the shoes
felt cozy.
In a moment, the pleasant female voice was followed by the
appearance of Jessie’s wife. “Oh, hi there. I’m Angie.”
Jake looked up from his shoes at the slim, tall black woman
with long straight hair, and he quickly stood up. “Hi, I’m Jake,”
he said while reaching out his hand to shake hers.
“Honey, Jake’s from Boston University,” Jessie said. “He’s
my new friend. He’s doing some research, and I asked him to
stay with us for a few days.”
“Oh? What kind of research?” Angie asked Jake.

27

As Jake started to answer, he noticed he already felt at home
around Jessie and Angie. They were old enough to be his
parents. Jessie was an honest, salt-of-the-earth working man.
And his wife, who had wrapped one arm around Jessie’s waist,
struck Jake as the jewel of Jessie’s life. She was attractive,
loving, and she obviously took good care of Jessie.
“I’m looking into the schooling of Theodore Winters, Dr.
Sally Salberg, and Dr. Ian Scott,” Jake answered.
“He’s the first one to know,” Jessie almost whispered to
Angie. Jake noticed Angie’s expression change.
“He’s figuring it out?” Angie quietly said back to Jessie. He
nodded.
After a moment of looking at Jake, Angie took a deep breath
and smiled. Her face was so smooth and sweet that Jake thought
it could outcompete two-thirds of the young girls’ faces back at
Boston University.
“Yes…we know a lot about them,” Angie said to Jake. “I
was wondering when someone out there would figure it out. Are
you writing an article?”
“No…no, I’m just a student,” Jake explained, “but I think
something big is going to come of this. …Angie, when you said
you wondered when someone out there would figure it out, what
did you mean by ‘it’?”
Angie looked at her husband.
“A few of the townsfolk know about the roots of the three
heroes,” Jessie offered. “I’m glad someone like you is here to
find out more. The school has hushed it up. But when the three
kids…I mean alumni…had their big breakthroughs, the few of
us who remember…we knew it would only be a matter of time
before someone would show up here.”
“A cover up? What happened here?” Jake was confused.
“Let’s have dinner, dear,” Angie said. “We can talk then.”
She turned and took Jessie’s hand. From behind, they looked
like a couple of teenagers, Jake thought as he followed them into
the kitchen and to the adjoining dining room.

*

“The pot roast was delicious, Angie,” Jake announced.

28

“Yes it was, baby,” Jessie agreed. “She takes good care of
me, always has. I love ya, baby.”
Angie, who was cleaning the table, looked at Jessie and
moved her mouth, without speaking, in the unmistakable three
motions declaring, “I love you.”
Feeling right at home, Jake said, “Jessie, do you think Scott,
Salberg, and Winters remember Miss Annabelle?”
“They’ll never forget her,” Jessie said without hesitation.
“But I really don’t know if they remember each other. Twenty
seven years is a long time ago, especially for those giants.”
“Well, then,” Jake said, “Can I write them each a letter
tonight to let them know?”
“No, dear,” Angie jumped in, “let Jessie tell you everything
first. You need to know everything. …Why don’t you two go
into the living room. Jessie darling, light a fire, and you two
get comfortable. I’ll bring you coffee.”
Jessie nodded at her affectionately and then led the young
visitor into the living room. Jake rested back in the love seat
as Jessie stuffed newspaper under two dry logs in the fireplace.
“Son, I’ve lived long enough to know that a spectacularly
wonderful thing can be too good for this world. If you put a
beautiful work of art like a Michelangelo sculpture in front of
people, someone will eventually attack it with a hammer.”
“What happened?” Jake asked.
“Well, it didn’t go bad all at once. It started slowly late
one Friday afternoon, but it grew like a cancer. The students
had been out of school for about two hours, and the faculty had
also gone home. The school was empty, except for Miss
Annabelle, preparing lectures for her class. She often stayed late
like that, which is how I got to know her. About six o’clock
Friday evening, I was cleaning the hallway floor around the
corner from her room when I heard Miss Annabelle talking loudly
in her room. Something was wrong — she sounded afraid. I
rushed to her room and opened the door. Mr. Burke turned
around. Miss Annabelle’s face looked frightened. ‘Is there a
problem here?’ I asked. ‘No, Jessie,’ Burke replied. ‘We’re
going over some issues here about the kids. You can go on
about your work.’

29

“But I could see Miss Annabelle didn’t want me to leave.
So I said, ‘Your room’s next on the agenda; I’m here to clean.’
Burke then left. While he was leaving, he said to her ‘We’ll
continue this discussion later,’ and he bolted past me.”
Jessie paused.
“Go on,” Jake urged. “What happened next?”
Jessie continued his story, taking Jake’s imagination back to
the time and place twenty-seven years before…

*

Miss Annabelle was speechless after Burke left the room.
She looked shaken and scared.
“Are you okay?” Jessie asked her.
She searched Jessie’s genuinely concerned eyes for a moment
then said, “Yes. …Thank you for showing up.”
“I heard you all the way from the other hall; you sounded
upset.”
“I was. That man…he was threatening to get me fired if I
didn’t…never mind.”
“I’ll call the police, ma’am.”
“No, no…please don’t. You stopped him before he could
do anything. No, I’m just in shock over his behavior. Thank
you. Please, tell me your name.”
“I’m Jessie. I’m the custodian.” But seeing her still
breathing hard from the adrenaline released in her system, Jessie
added, “Miss Annabelle, are you sure we don’t need to call the
police?”
“No Jessie. I am okay now.”
Jessie tried to point out that Burke left saying he would
continue this discussion later, which was a threat. Miss
Annabelle listened to Jessie and thought about what he said,
weighing it heavily against another thought in her mind. After
sorting through her own thoughts, she said, “Jessie, with this kind
of thing, who knows what kind of psychoanalyzing and rumors
can get started. In the end, I might find myself in the middle
of a scandal and not be allowed to continue teaching my class.”
Her voice trailed off. She was unaware that she was muttering
her own reaction to that last thought, “I couldn’t bear to lose
my kids.”

30

At that moment, the young black man understood, for he saw
a look on her face he would never forget: the greatest infliction
on Miss Annabelle would be separation from the twelve children
she now loved. Her drive in life, he realized, was to educate
those children her way — toward a new and limitless mind.
Jessie knew that Burke’s threats were sexual, which were very
difficult for a woman to prove and could backfire and cause the
worst kind of scandal for a third-grade teacher. She could not
risk something like that, which could interfere with, or worse,
end her year with her pupils.

*

The following Monday afternoon, after the children had gone
home, Jessie slipped into Mr. Burke’s room and shut the door
behind him.
“Listen up, Burke: When it comes to Miss Annabelle, I’m
your judge and your jury.” Jessie’s eyes were wide and looking
down, his nostrils flared open. “You continue that discussion
with her again, and I’ll come after you.”
Something inside Jessie was driving him to the edge of
violence, and Burke could sense it. He was afraid, but he tried
to act fraternal, for a moment. “Now Jessie, come on, I’m single;
she’s single. You know? I was just playing with her. Come
on, you’re acting like you’re her father.”
Jessie grabbed Burke’s sports jacket and pulled him close,
“You threaten her; I hurt you. You hurt her; I cripple you. Do
you know what I’m saying?” Jessie stared at Burke who was
nodding, too scared to talk. Then Jessie pushed Burke away.
Jessie left Burke crumpled and humiliated. Next Jessie went
to Miss Annabelle’s room. Her door was open, and he knew
the moment he saw her that she was nervous. “Miss Annabelle?”
he said as gently as he could. She jumped nonetheless. “I’m
sorry, ma’am. May I come in?”
“Please do, Jessie. I’ve been on edge all day.”
“You don’t have to worry about him. I’ve put a scare into
him. He’ll stay away from you now.”
“What did you do?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“Let’s just say he won’t touch you if he respects his own life.”

31

“Thank you, Jessie. Thank you. Now I can get back to
developing my lectures.”

*

Early October brought cool mornings to this northeastern
town…as well as increased absenteeism of the student body. But
not a single student had missed a single day in Miss Annabelle’s
class. She gave more homework than the other teachers, lectured
the basics more as a college professor might. But during those
lectures, she would go off on important, related subjects, and she
would uniquely dig past appearances to the essence of things to
reveal startling new ways of looking at things. She showed her
students how to begin to dig deeper by seeing common
denominators.
Common denominators helped them dig past confusing
appearances while pulling information together. Those daily
“digs” into life were like delicious treats to the children. Her
children loved to learn and understand, so for her students to
miss a day of her class would be to miss out. Their young minds
were putting together the exciting puzzle of life…and they did
not want to miss a single piece to the puzzle! They had already
learned the meaning of life and love…and there was something
exciting about hearing long-standing beliefs, appearances, and the
status quo routinely batted down by their teacher. Was she a
rebel…or just very smart?

*

By mid October, Miss Annabelle was delivering startling
lectures. When the cold and flu season began and some of Miss
Annabelle’s kids got sick, they argued with their parents to go
to school, at least to first period. Parents were amazed at their
children’s new love for school.
At the parents’ request, Miss Annabelle started recording her
General Lecture, her first lecture of the day, so sick children who
missed school could listen to the lecture at home. The General
Lecture snapped exciting new puzzle pieces into the puzzle of
life.

32

The children loved those unpredictable morning lectures.
That same month, some parents began asking Miss Annabelle
if they could make copies of her General Lectures for themselves.
They really enjoyed her first lecture each morning before the
specific lectures on math, science, history, and literature. But
the parents’ enthusiasm, as with all adults in this world in which
dreams fade, never reached the level of their eight and nine-year
olds. For, their children, who were learning to see through
appearances and illusions to the essence of things, sensed they
would someday make their dreams come true.
Some adults had not given up, however. One evening when
Miss Annabelle was walking toward her car, she noticed Teddy
and his dad in the playground adjacent to the parking lot. They
were throwing a football when they spotted Miss Annabelle.
“There she is, dad,” Teddy said, giving away his father’s
ulterior motive for being there.
“Isn’t it a little dark for football guys?” Miss Annabelle said
with a chuckle, putting him at ease. “Hello, Mr. Winters.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Miss Annabelle. My son has
never loved school like he does now. I want to thank you for
that…and for myself, too. I listen to the tapes of your General
Lectures. Miss Annabelle, you have a special gift to see things
differently.”
“Not really,” she said. “I just learned how to see through
appearances to the essence of things. And your son is learning
how to do this, too. My hope is that someday he makes
wonderful values for the world and lots of money and happiness
for himself.”
“He believes in you. I can see your gift growing in my
son…growing every day.”
Miss Annabelle stopped walking; she turned and looked
directly into Mr. Winters’ eyes. “I normally don’t say this to
parents…but, it can happen to you, too.”
“Yes…I want more. My life is like a trap of stagnation. My
job is a routine rut…year after year. There’s got to be more!”
Miss Annabelle studied his eyes further. Then she said,
“There is more, and I’ll tell you how to get it. I don’t know
your specific situation, but in general, success in every area of
life comes by piercing through whatever appears to be, to what
is — to the essence

33

Take your job and mine, for example.
From what I’ve learned in my job, I would tell you to look past
the stagnant responsibilities of your job, because they’re
misleading and not, in the end, what makes the business work,
not what the business really demands. Forget about the
managers, just as I forget about my staffs. They’ll lead you
either to miserable stagnation…or failure. I ask myself, what
does educating a child demand, what’s the essence? Let me tell
you: it’s not what meets the eye or what staffs or managers tell
you. When I started teaching, I was told, more or less, to teach
the children to integrate effectively in society. Sounded good,
like what appears to be good education, but the year of my
awakening I learned to look past appearances to what is…in my
case, to what teaching really is: to teach the children how to
someday build magnificent values that a lot of people want to
buy, which starts by teaching them how to think for themselves,
how to see past appearances to the essence of things. By doing
that, my students will start integrating substantial thoughts that
hold together because they’re down past powerless illusions, down
to what is…where the power is. There, they’ll have the power
to build clusters of substantial thoughts and ideas to eventually
create values for the world and experience the excitement and
happiness of their accomplishments, not to mention the wealth
from selling their values…just as you can.
“So, just as I asked myself, you must now ask yourself, what
does the business demand, what’s its essence? You must look
past the stagnant responsibilities handed to you, past all that to
the essence of the business, which can always be reached in any
job. What is the essence of the business? I’d say, to make
money. How is money made in the business you work for? You
must learn and absorb those responsibilities, Mr. Winters. Then,
you’re where the power is. Instead of just doing your boring
routine rut and dreaming about a better life, you’ll start putting
together potent thoughts that count, that stick together and grow
because they have to do with making money. At the essence
of business — where the money is made — you’ll feel the
excitement of creating values and really living.” Miss Annabelle
noticed that both Teddy’s father and Teddy, too, listened intensely.

34

Then Mr. Winters spoke in the tone of a man who just experienced
an epiphany, “Learn and absorb the money-making responsibilities.
Why, yes! What I do now at work has nothing to do with making
money, nothing at all. …But how do you suppose I’d take over
those money-making responsibilities?”
“Go to where the power is — down to the essence,” she said,
so simply. “The essence of each money-making responsibility
would be the nitty-gritty details it’s made of. From my
experience, most people don’t like doing nitty-gritty details. If
some eager, capable person came along, willing to soak up those
unpleasant details, I’m sure he wouldn’t be stopped. Before long,
once he’s got the details, he’ll soak up the entire responsibility,
too. No one even needs to know what’s going on as you ferret
your way to where the power is.”
Mr. Winters and his son both looked as if they were thinking
some daring thoughts. Miss Annabelle smiled at the two of them
and concluded, “None of this is too difficult to do if you
remember to answer to the essences. That’s what I answer to,
and that’s why I am who I am and why Teddy’s so motivated
in my class.”

*

“I feel as though I’m gaining the keys to success and learning
the secrets of life,” Jake said, interrupting the story being told.
“How could anyone have a problem with that!”
“That toad started it all,” Angie said in disgust.
“Burke?” Jake guessed.
“Yeah,” Jessie said, shaking his head. “While Miss Annabelle
was creating little geniuses for the world and helping their
parents, one jerk was quietly spreading cancer seeds throughout
the staff. Seeds grow, you know. In retrospect, had I known
it back then, I would’ve scared that loser right out of town.”
“My husband’s right. Being rejected by Miss Annabelle,
Burke went on a quiet mission of revenge; none of us knew it.
He quietly told a handful of staff members, privately on an
individual basis so no one could pinpoint the source that started
those rumors, that Miss Annabelle had been talking about the
act of sex to her students. He took her valuable discussion out
of context and made it seem perverted.”
“What a bastard,” Jessie said under his breath.

35

“It’s hard to recover from this type of accusation, you know,
even if it’s completely false,” Angie continued. “Soon, the staff
started talking among themselves. Miss Annabelle came under
suspicion. The principal summoned her class recordings, which
unfortunately had not started soon enough to have captured her
valuable lecture on love. With tainted, preconceived notions, the
principal concluded that the new teacher was strange and needed
to be monitored.”
“The thought that Miss Annabelle had done something wrong
made everything she did that was brilliant with the kids seem
as though it did not belong — like something weird, something
too different,” Jessie said.
“After all, the public school’s definition of an education was
to prepare the children to fit in,” Angie said. “And Miss
Annabelle was different — she was not about to teach her kids
to conform.”
“Besides, the principal of the school at the time was a meanspirited woman who seemed to hate kids,” Jessie said. “I noticed
she didn’t like Miss Annabelle. How could she? Miss Annabelle
represented the child. She was everything good and wonderful
the principal was not. Miss Annabelle was the essence of
happiness. The principal was the essence of misery. Miss
Annabelle reflected the beauty in life. The principal reflected
the ugliness in life.”
“So, Ms. Minner was quick to dig into the rumors with ‘grave
concern’,” Angie said. “The rumors now escalated into an
investigation and got on the agenda of the school board meeting.
The negative thoughts about Miss Annabelle were spreading fast.
And envy fanned the flames. Here was an opportunity to tie
down her free spirit.”

36

————————
Chapter
Three
————————

Miss Annabelle seemed unfettered. She had no idea,
however, of the dangerous sexual theme simmering beneath the
gossip.
The more the gossip spread, and the more strange looks she
got from staff and faculty, the more she pulled out all the stops
and poured her love and free thinking into her lectures and onto
her students.
The growing disapproval of her actually freed her to cut the
disapprovers out of her constant considerations that tended to
make her lectures a bit conservative. Removing them from the
equation was like taking the last impurity out of a chemical
solution needed to set off the power-reactor explosion. Her
lectures now freely blew apart the matrix of illusions that trapped
adults in a suppressed anticivilization.
She loved her kids, and they loved her. The bond grew so
strong that its positive current swept her students away from
anything destructive. The parents were delighted by their
children’s attitude toward school and life.
Defamed yet unfettered, devoted and determined…that
combination of events and emotions brought out the most
eloquent Miss Annabelle. Her lectures were stirring for her eight
and nine-year-olds, for 39-year-olds, for 69-year-olds.

37

She worked late into the evenings cutting through appearances in this
world of illusions created by the media, academia, the
Establishment, politicized big business, organized religion, the
legal profession, the government…by the many freeloaders, by
those who drain or tear down values instead of contributing to
or building values. She pierced through to the essence of things,
where the real power in life resided. If her students could grow
up with their minds focussed not on appearances but on the
essences of life, they could build powerful puzzles of ideas that
would take them to new levels, to puzzle-pictures never seen
before. They would become the power players, the value
creators, the money/power giants.
She was not going to let anything in this world suppress those
twelve children. Something inside her, something from her past,
gave her a keen awareness of the life-destroying world of
appearances and illusions — something she would catapult her
pupils over and beyond.

*

During the rising controversy at Duncan Elementary School,
a situation arose that made all Miss Annabelle’s problems shrink
by comparison. In early November, a little girl’s parents visited
Miss Annabelle. The mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.
The doctors said she had from only a few months up to two
years to live.
In Miss Annabelle’s classroom that evening, overlooking the
empty, little chairs and desks, Sally’s mother struggled to talk
clearly. “What should we do for poor Sally?” her mother asked
as a large tear, then another, escaped her eyes.
Consciously, Miss Annabelle did not know how to answer
that, but the answer, to her surprise, came rushing out from her
subconscious, “Make every day beautiful. Send her to school
so her mind keeps growing. When she gets home, spend as
much time together as your energy allows. Make beautiful
memories together that will last Sally’s entire life. Of course,
let her be with friends sometimes, which’ll give her some
experience of life without you. Gently, consistently prepare her
for when the time comes…when she must go on without you.

38

The love you give Sally these few precious months must last a
lifetime.”
From that evening onward, Sally’s mom spent almost all her
afternoons and evenings with Sally, making every day precious.
They did everything together and reached a love so special that
they, at times, felt almost lucky.
That night Miss Annabelle could not fall asleep. She lay
awake, knowing she could not protect Sally from the pain she
would endure.
“What is the essence of death?” she sat up in bed, wondering.
“Is there something beyond the appearances?”
She got out of bed and went to her desk. “I must break
through. I must break through…”

*

Miss Annabelle’s heart sank when she watched Sally come
through the door the next morning. Sally knew; her eyes were
wide with fear and lost in pain…a helpless, hopeless burden no
one so young and tender should have to bear. Miss Annabelle
watched Sally walk to her desk, lost in her pain, unaware of the
other children. Sally sat and dropped her head down on her desk.
Miss Annabelle saw her shoulders and back bobbing; she was
crying. She looked so small, yet her pain was so large. Miss
Annabelle, overwhelmed by the sight of the little girl in such
grief, put her hand over her mouth as she herself fought to keep
from crying. She walked over, knelt beside the little girl and
put her hand on Sally’s little shoulder. In one quick motion,
Sally jerked around and buried her face into Miss Annabelle’s
shoulder. They hugged tightly for several minutes. The other
children behaved like little adults, sat quietly at their desks,
knowing their friend was very sad.
The other children silently watched Miss Annabelle and Sally.
“Children, Sally’s mother has an illness called cancer.” Miss
Annabelle felt Sally’s grip tighten as she spoke. “Who of you
here wants to someday discover cures to illnesses and diseases?”
Sally eased her grip and lifted her eyes from Miss Annabelle’s
shoulders to see all her classmates raise their hands.
“I want to save Sally’s mom,” one little girl said.

39

“Me too.” “Me too.” “Me too,” was said in near harmony
by eleven classmates.
The compassion for Sally and her mother removed a little
of the fear for Sally, at least for now. She was able to stop
crying for now and lift her head off Miss Annabelle. Sally, her
face overwhelmed with devastation, looked at her classmates one
by one. Her eight and nine-year-old classmates looked back with
compassion and love. Each child allowed Sally to look at him
or her as long as she needed, without saying a word, as if her
soul were being fueled with a little strength from each classmate.
Miss Annabelle noticed how beautiful the children looked
during this magical moment. Their eyes all looked so big and
round. Their faces looked so sweet, like little angels. She
realized that this was how people looked, all people, both children
and adults, when they were pure…free of negativity and
dishonesty. This was the look of pure honesty and love. People,
in their most genuine moment, are beautiful, she thought as this
magical moment lasted.
With each look, Sally organized something inside her little
head that was in disarray. This is exactly what she needs at
this stage, Miss Annabelle realized. Each look into one of her
classmates’ eyes would warm Miss Annabelle’s heart as she saw
a little bit more emotional disarray put back into order. As Miss
Annabelle watched this phenomenon, she felt so proud of her
eight and nine-year-olds. This is my family, she thought. This
is my life. I love them so much. I will protect them; I will
teach them how to protect themselves to keep their dreams and
to turn them into reality. I want them to have these beautiful
faces when they are all grown up.

*

Over the next two weeks, Miss Annabelle struggled with the
idea of death. What is the essence of death? She could not
seem to break through the appearances. She thought about Sally
a lot. Sally and her mother had discovered immense joy
celebrating life together every day. Sally was doing fine now,
but Miss Annabelle wondered how Sally would be once her
mother took a turn for the worse.

40

When thinking about Sally one evening, how to possibly
protect her, Miss Annabelle could not get over the hopeless
finality of death. She shook her head in dismissal when thinking
about the prevalent belief that death is not final, but just the
beginning. Miss Annabelle was unsure of afterlife ideas and not
sure if she believed in God or if God would someday be a silly
ancient idea replaced by scientific explanations. But whether she
believed or not did not matter. She emotionally knew, for Sally
and her mom, the hopeless finality of death.
In acknowledging to herself the finality of death and its
inescapable tragedy, she suddenly realized the rightness of
happiness when we are alive…the unapologetic rightness of
happiness during our one special flicker of life.
She never thought of her life that way before: the rightness
of happiness. In fact, the more she thought about the finality
of death, the more she felt this rightness of happiness. Ironically,
she realized, the more she thought about death, her own death
and Sally’s mom, the more determined, even “pumped up” as
her students would say, she got to squeeze every drop of
happiness out of every day.
What’s happening here? she was wondering. I feel like
celebrating and savoring each day as a precious gift with my
students. Then she thought about Sally and her mother. Those
two make each day a celebration together. They savor each
moment as a precious gift…even the mundane and minor
moments. They have amplified their rightness of happiness
because of impending death.
Can we all amplify our happiness by acknowledging our
imminent deaths? Can we, too?

*

Two days later, Miss Annabelle handed out to each student
a copy of a typewritten sheet with 30 rows across and 29
columns down, forming 870 little squares.
“Children, you’re just eight or nine years old. You have your
whole futures ahead of you. But I must warn you: that future
— your everything — goes by so fast that it’s easy for time to
flash by without you getting out of life everything that you should.

41

In this world of illusions, it’s so easy to waste so much
of our futures.
“In fact, the appearance to eight and nine-year-olds is that
you have so much time ahead of you. But digging through
appearances to the essence of your time ahead, you realize how
little time we have. For instance, look at the Life Chart in front
of you. That represents how little time we have to experience
everything and to create everything we ever will in all eternity.

42

Each square represents one month of our lives. I invite each
of you to put an “X” through about a hundred squares, leaving
you with just about 770 left. Those 770 open squares represent
your future — 770 months left. As you can see, it’s not some
huge, vast space for adventures untold. No, it’s a confined and
pressing finite period of time. The limited nature of that time
is why our futures seem to fly by us so fast and why it is so
easy to waste those precious months.
“The Life Chart is designed for you to not be fooled by
appearances, but for you to see through to the essence of your
future — just 770 months left! By seeing your future this way,
you’ll squeeze so much more out of life.”
“Excuse me, Miss Annabelle,” Teddy was saying, raising his
hand. “Why 870 squares?”
“Good question, Teddy. Now in the 1970s in America, life
expectancy has risen to 72 and 1/2 years. What’s 72 ½ years
multiplied by 12 months?”
After some pencil work, Teddy said, “Oh yeah, 870 months.”
“And you kids are eight or nine years old. Eight times twelve
is 96. Nine times twelve is 108. Put an ‘X’ through how many
months old you are now.
“By doing this, you’ll become acutely aware of the
preciousness of life. It’s a limited commodity, and that limited
commodity is your everything. I do not expect Sally to do this
because she and her mother know the preciousness of life. They
know it so much more than we do, and they do not need to be
reminded. But we do — we need to be reminded of how little
life we have to experience everything we will ever know in all
eternity.
“How many of you think about or at least feel, on a daily
basis, how precious your life is and the lives of your loved
ones?” One hand went up, Sally’s hand. The expression on
her face was one of awe for Miss Annabelle seeing through to
what she and her mother had discovered.
“All of you will feel the preciousness of life when you start
your Life Charts. I know, because I’ve started my own. I have
a lot more squares ‘X’d’ off than you. In fact, about half of
mine are gone! Every morning when I get up, I think about
how precious my life is. Everything I do now, even routine
things, I savor.

43

I get so much enjoyment now out of things that
before either I never stopped to notice or felt indifference for.
I now celebrate my days. I really feel the excitement in life.
For example, when coming to school in the mornings, I get all
happy inside like I’m going to a big celebration. I celebrate
life every day now. By seeing through to the essence of our
futures — how little time we really have — I’m getting every
bit out of life. I’ve become so focussed and so determined to
educate you to be able to cut through illusory appearances and
obstacles in order to build your dreams and happiness. …I want
to accomplish more. I want to love more. I want to share
meaningful time together with loved ones. In short, I have
amplified my existence, and I savor it.
“You’ll find yourselves enjoying your parents and siblings
more, loving them more while you’re still together. Life together,
and life in general, is precious. You’ll find yourself, as you ‘X’
off those open squares, wanting to learn more, wanting to learn
how to start building values for the world. You’ll find yourself
thinking that every value you ever make is limited to those open
squares, and you’ll find yourself wanting to make more and more
values as you grow older. One thing is for sure: you’ll never
waste a portion of your precious life with the Life Chart.”
Fortunately, Miss Annabelle was recording her lectures now.
When parents first saw their children’s Life Charts, they did not
know what to think. But, Miss Annabelle made twelve copies
of her General Lecture and sent the tapes home with her students.
Hearing the lecture of the Life Charts warmed parents’ feelings
for Miss Annabelle.
The children responded with mature thought and insight into
their lives. They began pondering their futures and their dreams,
which was very advanced for eight and nine-year-olds. A few
days later Danny said in class, “I started Life Charts for my
parents.” Before the week was over, all the children had started
Life Charts for their parents. Seeing firsthand so many squares
were “X’d” off on their parents’ Life Charts, they grew closer
to their parents. Over the next seven months of the school year,
Miss Annabelle would get comments, phone calls, and mail from
parents explaining how thoughtful and loving their children had
become.

44

The most common remark from parents was how their
children were saying “I love you, mom and dad” for the first
time in years…and saying it daily.
Whereas the children’s love for their parents and siblings
grew, so did their love for Miss Annabelle. Her sense of life
seemed to mirror that of the children. She was always seeing
through the gloomy appearances to the uplifting essence of things.

*

The effect Miss Annabelle had on her students was like a
positive, powerful current. A child could swim against the
positive current in rebellion, perhaps, but her omnipresent positive
flow would soon wash the child further toward good than his
or her struggle against it.
Rico, a nine-year-old boy, exemplified the effect of her
powerful current of good. He was born into an unscrupulous
line of male criminals. His father, uncles, and grandfather had
notorious reputations and several years of prison time among
them. Rico was not particularly attracted to crime. He got no
thrill from the idea of stealing, like some other criminals. But
the philosophy he was exposed to ever since he could think and
talk filled his head with the criminal mind: others owe me a
living. Therefore, guilt was removed from crime, greasing the
way to a life of easy money through acts of crime.
But when Rico listened to Miss Annabelle one cold November
morning, he was deeply moved. He was moved along in her
current of good. Perhaps…perhaps he was experiencing his first
love, his first crush…for the wonderful woman.
She was saying, “When we’re young, like you children are
now, life at times seems bigger than life. I want you to think
of something you’ve done that, at the time, was so exciting that
it almost didn’t feel real. At the time, you knew it was a special
experience, and today it might be in your memory as something
spectacular, like a dream. Or, I’d like you to think about
something you have not done but seems bigger than life to you,
something you only dream about, but if you ever did it…wow!”
Rico found himself thinking about being on the big blue
ocean in a beautiful yacht with his brother and Miss Annabelle,
deep sea fishing.

45

He could see a sailfish way out in the distance
jumping out of the water as Rico’s brother and Miss Annabelle
cheered Rico on…to reel it in. As this image teased his thoughts,
he continued listening to the pretty teacher who was gracefully
moving her arms like a ballerina in dance as she talked to the
class:
“Right now, some fancy thoughts must be in those heads of
yours. …Anybody care to give us a peek inside?”
Sally was the first to raise her hand, which pleased Miss
Annabelle. She knew today’s lecture would be an important link
to Sally’s future, perhaps a masterlink to help Sally make the
transition when the time came from life with mother to life
without mother. Coincidently, Sally was also thinking about the
ocean, but Sally’s thoughts were a real memory from a few
weeks before:
“Oh, I’m thinking about my trip to Hawaii with my mom
and dad. It’s like you say…it’s like a dream in my head. The
ocean. The beach. The fields. The mountains. I remember
the motor-raft journey on the ocean to some little island and
snorkeling there with dad and seeing all those tropical fish! Mom
went with us and stayed on the raft. But we took lots of
underwater pictures for her. And you know what, a whole school
of dolphins came to the raft, and Daddy and I and the other
people jumped in, and we swam with the dolphins!”
The room was filled with “wows” and questions for Sally
like, “Did you touch one?” “What did it feel like?” “How
many?” “Were you scared?”
After Sally answered her curious admirers, Miss Annabelle
saw a twinkle in Cathy’s eyes. Her hand was not raised, but
Miss Annabelle had been wanting to reach this quiet student who
sat away from others in class and in the lunchroom. “Cathy,
will you share with us your thoughts? …What seems bigger than
life to you?”
Cathy’s twinkle quickly retreated in fear. Her private world
suddenly had eleven kids and her teacher trying to look inside.
Then, for a brief moment, a flash of courage emerged in her eyes.
It seemed she would open the door, but at that same moment
she turned the lock to close out her classmates.
“No,” she said with much effort; her eyes then darted
nervously around the room at her classmates as her mouth sank
back into her rotund face.

46

Ever since she was a baby, she had
always been obese. Years before her peers would know what
self-consciousness was, Cathy struggled with being self-conscious
and retreated to a life of self-chosen ostracization. …Not since
the first day of school, when Cathy announced she wanted to
be a beautician, had she participated in class.
In the meantime, Rico was lost in his fantasy of pulling in
the sailfish. In his daydream, he now was face to face with his
oversized catch, waving the fragile Miss Annabelle back from
the dangerous ferocity of his catch. Completely caught up in
his daydream, he suddenly cried out, “…stand back, Miss
Annabelle!” Of course, he startled himself along with the whole
class and his teacher.
“Rico, what’s wrong?” Miss Annabelle said.
“Nothing…umm…I didn’t want you to trip over that chair.”
He was trying to recover; he did not want to reveal his private
fantasy.
“I had a bigger-than-life experience with my dad,” Teddy
Winters offered. When he got Miss Annabelle’s nod of approval,
he told of his fascinating tour with his father of the General
Motors car assembly plant. “Everything was so big, like those
big metal arms that moved around and put the cars together! It
was so cool to see the cars form right before you — so many
cars. They told us that every single movement was studied so
as not to waste even a split second.”
Miss Annabelle nodded knowingly and said, “I’ve also visited
a car production line. It was awesome, Teddy. Someday, I’ll
tell you about Henry Ford and his creation of the assembly line.”
Hands were still up, and Miss Annabelle knew she must not
leave any story untold. She pointed to Ian Scott.
“I can’t forget the Observatory. We drove up the side of
this mountain at night to the very top. Up there was a building
and inside was a huge telescope. We looked at planets. The
best one was Saturn. We could even see the rings around it.
When I looked at the planets through the telescope, they seemed
so clear and so close. I wonder when we’ll travel to those
planets.”
After the last raised hand was chosen and the last story was
told, Miss Annabelle was ready to continue her lecture.

47

But Rico suddenly spoke, “I was dreaming I was on a big yacht, and I
was reeling in a monster of a sailfish, and that you were there
looking over the side at the big fish flapping against the boat.
That’s why I told you to stand back.”
Miss Annabelle laughed in her sweet way, and Rico relaxed
and smiled. She laughed some more and said, “Thank you for
protecting me!” And with that, she continued her lecture:
“Those bigger-than-life experiences have a common
denominator: they’re all something new to you, never before
experienced. Brand new experiences spark stimulating new
sensations and carve powerful impressions and permanent places
in your memories. Adults, however, have experienced most of
those things already. So adults go through life deflated, flat,
not feeling the bigger-than-life excitement that children do. But
that boring life does not have to happen for you when you grow
up. Let’s look through appearances that make people believe
that when grown up, we must settle into a boring rut. Tell me,
what is the essence of happiness? Remember back to the first
day of school…and to our camping trip. Do you remember?
What is the essence of happiness? Yell it out…anyone.”
“Making values,” several students said out loud.
“Yes! Making values. And building something never seen
or known before makes adults feel the bigger-than-life excitement
like a child again. Children feel bigger-than-life excitement when
they experience something new; adults feel bigger-than-life
excitement when they build something new.”
As Rico admired Miss Annabelle, he could feel his orientation
to life changing. Does the world really owe him a living? If
so, he thought, then he would miss out on the bigger-than-life
excitement of building something new. He would miss out on
the excitement he sees in his teacher every day. Yes, he wanted
to be excited by life like his teacher, not in misery like his father.
…Later that afternoon, Rico returned an astronaut pen he had
taken from Ian’s desk. And for the first time in Rico’s life, he
apologized to a peer for wrongdoing.

48

At noon, the third-grade and fourth-grade students and
teachers filed into the school’s cafeteria. Miss Annabelle was
grateful that Mr. Burke, one of the school’s two guidance
counselors, ate during the later lunch period.
The teachers ate in a small break room next to the large
cafeteria. The teachers’ lunch room had two oblong tables with
three chairs on each side and one on each end. And there were
two smaller square tables with four chairs around them.
Miss Annabelle felt increasingly uncomfortable in the
teachers’ lunch room, especially since the rumors started. At
first, she was welcomed by the other teachers. But even before
the rumors started, she noticed a gradual change in attitude. The
women started deliberately sitting at a different table. But
because of Miss Annabelle’s attractiveness that made men want
to be near her, the male teachers would all sit at Miss
Annabelle’s table. But she was not interested in any of those
men, and she was in no mood for men after being terrorized by
Burke a few weeks before. So she was not responsive to their
macho overtures or constant comedy.
Without Miss Annabelle applauding their efforts, the men
slowly joined the women in characterizing Miss Annabelle as
someone who “has problems”, someone “strange”, “different”,
and, eventually, as “that introvert child-woman who’ll never find
a husband.”
Moreover, unbeknown to Miss Annabelle, the rumors about
her “sexual discussions” with her third-grade students grew like
a cancer. The other teachers, some subconsciously motivated by
jealousies, began to ask rhetorical questions about Miss
Annabelle. “I wonder if she’s weird or has a thing for kids;
maybe that’s why she’s not married?”
Today, Miss Annabelle could feel the tension as she walked
into the teachers’ lunch room. As she sat at one of the smaller
square tables, alone, she suddenly thought, what am I doing here?
I don’t care about these people who eagerly entertain illusions
without any effort or care to know what is.
Without wasting another moment of her life, Miss Annabelle
stood up and almost ran out of the room. She went to the
student cafeteria and scouted for a seat. The tables were oblong
with attached benches, filled with about eight children per table.
There were a few spaces open at the table where Cathy was
sitting.

49

Perfect! Miss Annabelle thought.
The cafeteria quieted down as Miss Annabelle entered. The
children were surprised to see her. To their memory, a teacher
had never eaten here with the kids. The hush, however, was
not because the children felt tension in front of this teacher. The
majority, those not in Miss Annabelle’s class, were curious about
the pretty lady who stood outside and greeted them the first day
of school. They were merely observing her and enjoying the
contagious smile that lit up her face as she joined the children.
Unlike other teachers who looked tense and unhappy when
approaching a crowd of children, Miss Annabelle was genuinely
happy. This was where she belonged — with the children. And
the children sensed this kinship with the pretty teacher who
always looked so happy.
Her twelve students did not look away as they would with
any other teacher. Instead, they said proudly to those around
them, “Look, that’s my teacher!”
When Miss Annabelle joined them that day — the first time
a teacher at that school had eaten with the kids — her students’
love for her grew even deeper. She was becoming their soul
mate. From that day on, her twelve students wanted to sit with
her at lunch. Within a week, all the children during lunch period
wanted to sit with Miss Annabelle. One of the favorite lunch
activities was for Miss Annabelle to tell a mystery story, and
the kids at the table would try to solve it. She soon had to make
a rotating seating arrangement so she could share her time
somewhat evenly among the children, slightly favoring her twelve
students.
That first day she came into the student cafeteria was a
special moment. She went to the cafeteria line and got a student
lunch while the children watched. She then sat at the table next
to Cathy, the overweight, quiet girl in class. In less than a
minute, the other four spaces at the table were filled with other
students from her class. The table came to life with talk and
laughter. This is where I belong, with these happy people, Miss
Annabelle thought. Cathy stayed quiet, but Miss Annabelle
noticed Cathy observing her. Miss Annabelle looked at the lunch
before her: an open-face hot turkey sandwich with gravy, mashed
potatoes, a dinner roll, and a dessert.

50

Knowing Cathy was watching, Miss Annabelle matter-of-factly
moved the dessert and the dinner roll to the top right corner of
her tray, obviously with no intention of eating them. Out of the corner
of her right eye, she saw Cathy do the same thing. Then, Miss Annabelle
proceeded to slowly eat the sandwich and potatoes. Cathy kept
pace with her. Without warning, Miss Annabelle turned and gave
Cathy a hug. Cathy was shocked — she could not remember
being hugged. She tilted her head down, her chin sinking into
her fleshy neck. But inside, Cathy had taken flight with joy.
Someone had noticed her! …I will free this little girl from her
prison, Miss Annabelle thought.

51

————————
Chapter
Four
————————

The holiday season was approaching, but Miss Annabelle no
longer noticed the other adults at the school except for Jessie.
By now, all the children in the third and fourth grades knew
her from lunch period. Miss Annabelle’s recordings of her
General Lectures now went to a cassette duplication service as
the other third and fourth graders and several of their parents
now listened to those lectures. The positive interest in Miss
Annabelle among the students surged at about the same rate as
the negative interest among the adults at Duncan Elementary
School. But Miss Annabelle did not care. She shut herself off
from the adults and devoted herself to the children.
On a chilly morning the week of Thanksgiving, Miss
Annabelle’s spirits rose when the handle to her door turned, a
half hour before class. Someone’s here for extra help, she
thought. The class had been hard at work on the basics of math,
science, literature, history, and two or three times a week
someone would come in early for a little boost, which Miss
Annabelle always enjoyed. But Miss Annabelle’s spirits sank
when she saw two adults at her door. One she recognized —
Ms. Minner, the gloomy principal with a cold corpse-like look.
The other pleasant lady, Miss Annabelle did not know.
“Miss Annabelle,” the unsmiling principal said, skipping past
common courtesies such as a pleasant greeting, “This is Mrs.
Shaffer. She’ll substitute for you today.”

52

“I don’t understand?” Miss Annabelle said.
“We’ll talk in my office in fifteen minutes. Right now, please
brief Mrs. Shaffer on what she’ll be teaching today.”
Twenty minutes later, Miss Annabelle walked into Ms.
Minner’s office without knocking. The principal was about to
get a preview of the Miss Annabelle none of the adults at Duncan
Elementary School knew: She was more courageous and
emotionally stronger than most men…and her students were her
treasure of love whom no one was to bother.
“Ms. Minner, don’t you ever walk into my room thirty
minutes before the day starts and yank me away from my kids.
Unlike other yahoos you have here who call themselves teachers,
I lecture my class — or have you forgotten about the old
— fashioned lecture method that actually puts knowledge into young
minds? I can’t possibly turn a lecture over to a substitute in
fifteen minutes. So you know what that means? My students
do not get an education today! But that’s probably okay with
you, anyway. Now tell me, just what the hell is going on?”
Ms. Minner, who thought she could intimidate and easily
handle Miss Annabelle, knew she was outmatched. Miss
Annabelle not only was fearless — she was deeply knowledgeable
on teaching. That made the principal nervous, especially when
sensing the inseparable love this lioness standing before her had
for her twelve students.
Miss Annabelle’s gentle looks certainly were deceiving, and
the principal was caught off guard. At this moment she had to
make an instant decision: to sanctimoniously lecture Miss
Annabelle as she had planned…or to just give her the facts.
Overwhelmed by Miss Annabelle’s fearlessness, the principal
retreated and just relayed the facts, “The school board is having
an emergency meeting tonight regarding you being able to
continue teaching here. Until a decision is made, Mrs. Shaffer
will teach your class.”
“Continue teaching? What are you talking about!” Miss
Annabelle was angry…and scared. She put her hands on the
principal’s desk and leaned close, seeing eye to eye. Ms. Minner
sensed she’d better talk.

53

“There’s been talk of sexual misconduct with your students,”
Ms. Minner said. She had not planned to reveal that to Miss
Annabelle, not until surprising her with it in the evening’s
emergency meeting.
Miss Annabelle felt as though lightning had just discharged
from her mind, attacking her heart, burning away everything in
between. Then came the thunderclap behind her bosom, rocking
all her internal organs, making it hard to breathe.
The comment was quick and deadly, like a gunshot in the
heart. The impact was so great and left Miss Annabelle in such
pain, that Ms. Minner, for an honest moment, felt sorry for the
woman. At that moment, Ms. Minner knew Miss Annabelle was
a victim of vicious rumors.
Miss Annabelle turned all white and felt faint. The thought
that someone could even entertain the accusations that she could
be a child molester, and with these children who were like her
own, repulsed her to the verge of being sick.
But then, her repulsion shifted to the adults themselves who
were spreading this rumor — those humanoids in the teachers’
lunchroom who were either women filled with jealousy or men
filled with spite for her constant rejections of their hidden desires
to bed her. Of course, she now knew the humanoid who was
behind this whole thing — Burke!
Without saying a word, Miss Annabelle left the principal’s
office. Ms. Minner was no longer an issue. The school board
was.
Miss Annabelle had a sinking feeling inside her as she walked
through the empty halls; classes had already begun. My god…I
hope the kids don’t hear any of this, she thought. But she knew
they would. And that thought hurt her more than anything else.
How rotten those adults were who put these ugly thoughts out
there that’ll violate innocent children! My accusers, she thought,
they’re the child molesters!
Her color returned now that she was thinking again. She
thought: Do I tell the school board about Burke’s threats? Will
that solve this, or make things worse? Do I get a lawyer, or
will that drag everything out? …One thing she knew for sure,
she had to get back to teaching her students.

54

She loved them,
and she knew that within the one school year, she could plant
the seeds that would grow into exciting creation-driven lives filled
with wealth, happiness, and love. She knew that nowhere else
in public or private education could they get those seeds.
Nowhere else would they learn to see through the matrix of
illusions to the essence of things — to the world of building
never-before-seen puzzle-pictures, creating awesome values for
the world and making lots of money, happiness, and love for
themselves.
Miss Annabelle loved her twelve students as a mother loves
her children. Yet, a mother usually has two decades to raise
her child. Miss Annabelle had just the nine months of a school
year. She had no children of her own. Her love really was
maternal, protective, everything. Her love for her students,
especially now that she could lose them, was all-embracing. She
could neither feel nor think about anything else. Nothing else
mattered. As she walked down the empty hall, she felt as though
she were going to panic. She knew she needed a clear head to
deal with this. But she couldn’t get a clear head.
Although reason told her to stay away, she was pulled to her
classroom door from a force beyond her control. She looked
through the narrow vertical window at her children. Their faces
looked worried. What did Mrs. Shaffer tell them about her? Her
fighting spirit swelled up within. She turned away from the
window and turned inward and did battle with her emotions to
stop herself from entering the classroom and taking over the
lecture to her children. She knew that rash act could get her
fired, and she had to use discipline.
After a moment, she looked through the window again; the
darkness on the children’s faces was unbearable to her. She
would not — she could not — let them worry.
She quietly opened the door. At first, only a couple of faces
looked her way. Those two faces suddenly brightened as if a
brilliant light shown on them. Then another child turned then
about half the children turned to see her standing there. The
faces that were turned toward her were bright and brilliant; the
faces that were still forward toward Mrs. Shaffer were dark,
blending into the background and the shadows. At this moment,
the dark and light contrast of faces was striking — like a
Rembrandt painting.

55

As each new face turned toward Miss Annabelle,
it glowed as if Miss Annabelle were the Sun itself,
lighting and warming those wonderful faces. By the look on
their faces, she knew she had done the right thing. She stepped
inside the room, but stayed by the door.
“Children, I’ll be away for a few days,” she said, concealing
her fears and anxieties. “I’m okay, but I must tend to something
very important. There was a sudden situation that came up this
morning beyond my control. Mrs. Shaffer will be your substitute
until I’m back.” Miss Annabelle hesitated, then added, “Until
then, remember what you have learned about life — always see
past the appearances to what is.”
Mrs. Shaffer did not understand that last comment, but she
noticed the kids obviously did.
“When will you be back?” Cathy, the quiet overweight girl
called out, surprising everyone including Miss Annabelle, yet
asking the question every other child wanted to know.
“Darling,” Miss Annabelle said, looking back at Cathy and
then the others, “I’ll be gone as short a time as is in my power.
I should be back in a few days. …I love you all too much to
be gone for long! Bye, bye.”
“Bye, Miss Annabelle,” the twelve children called out as she
slipped out the door. Standing outside her room, Miss Annabelle
stood with her back against the wall, next to the door. She
sighed deeply and leaned toward the door and peeked through
the window. They’ll be OK, she told herself, but her eyes welled
up with tears.
“They will be OK,” a deep, wonderfully understanding voice
said, as if reading her doubts. Its paternal quality was so
comforting that Miss Annabelle’s fears seemed to momentarily
vanish. She turned around to find Jessie smiling at her.
“Oh Jessie, I’ve got to talk to you!”
“I already know. Talk is everywhere.” Then he purposely
changed the subject. “Thanksgiving is in two days. Do you
have plans? If not, Angie and I want you to have dinner with
us.”
“Oh…” The change of subject in the midst of a crisis felt
refreshing.

56

“Miss Annabelle, spend the afternoon with us. My wife’s
making a big dinner and baking two pies, and there’s just the
two of us. We want you to join us. Angie is looking forward
to meeting you. She’s a wonderful woman. If you feel
comfortable, we can talk some about things with Angie. She’s
also been through a lot.”
“I’d love to Jessie.” Miss Annabelle just realized that Jessie
was her only adult friend here, and for the first time since
moving to this town, she was looking forward to meeting a
woman friend. “I really would like that.” They turned and
walked in the empty hall toward the janitor’s room.
“You’re here early today,” Miss Annabelle said to Jessie,
who normally started work in late morning.
“I’m cleaning the bleachers today, so I wanted to get an early
start.”
Miss Annabelle nodded and looked down. Jessie knew she
was hurting inside. In a moment, she looked up again. Squinting
as though squeezing out thoughts and trying to get some
understanding, she said, “I see something very different in
children. They’re able to see what is, not what appears to be.
Children absorb reality like a sponge. But I can point out what
is to an adult over and over again, yet months or years later,
he or she will never get it.”
Jessie was a good listener; they were now both sitting in his
“office” as Miss Annabelle continued, “In a couple of weeks,
for example, I’ll tell my kids that no person should tell another
person how to live his or her life. The person who tries to rule
over others, no matter what the appearances are or how good
the reasons may sound, is wrong for doing so. My kids will
see right through to the essence…to the fundamental wrong of
politicians and regulatory bureaucrats. But if I try to explain
that fundamental wrong to an adult, explain that politicians and
regulatory bureaucrats are all about ruling over people and that
role is fundamentally wrong, he or she will say, ‘But what about
all the good things they do for us? After all, we elect them!’
So, for centuries, adults keep putting a ruling class over
themselves. But my children, when they grow up, they’ll never
be controlled by others.”
Ever since the first day of school when she sang The
Impossible Dream and he listened outside her room, he’d wished
someone had talked to him like that when he was a boy.

57

Miss Annabelle did not know that Jessie had listened to the tapes
of every General Lecture and loved to hear her insights.
“Looking back over my life,” she continued, “I realize how
little power and control over life I had before I saw through
appearances to the essence of things. The children’s uncanny
ability to see past the matrix of illusions in this world to the
essence of things lets me move quickly. I must get them past
the entire matrix of illusions before I leave. It’ll take me the
full nine months of the school year. I cannot afford to be away
from them for long. Every day, every lecture counts. I cannot
be fired. I must just get back to teaching my kids.”
Jessie understood. He sat quietly thinking.
“If I don’t get back to teach my students, they’ll go on to
live mediocre lives, sinking in silent frustration like most others.
If I get back and teach them, they’ll go on to live the way people
were meant to live…with power, freedom, wealth and love.
They’ll go on to be spectacularly happy. They’ll go on to three
levels of happiness that adults today don’t have, which I call
the celebrations of love every day, the preciousness of every
moment, and a bigger-than-life excitement throughout their entire
lives.”
Suddenly Miss Annabelle’s voice deepened and strengthened,
“Jessie, I must get back to teaching those kids.”
Her love for her children sent a rush through him and made
him long again to have children of his own. For a moment,
Jessie drifted into the unhappy memory of why he and Angie
would never have children: Down in urban Philadelphia thirteen
years ago, when Angie was 17 years old and still living at home,
she was kidnapped and raped by a gang. The internal damage
and resulting infection of her uterus made her unable to have
children. Jessie, two years older and deeply embittered about
his helplessness to do anything about that crime, vowed to take
his childhood sweetheart out of that gang-infested hell swarming
with white, black, and Puerto Rican gang members taking revenge
upon one another through racial attacks on anyone of opposing
color — even girls such as Angie who never associated with
gangs. When he got his job in Cheektowaga, a rural town almost
four hundred miles North, a whole world away from their violent
past, Jessie and Angie had discovered “heaven”. They lived with
a freedom they never knew existed.

58

Their favorite activity was long walks together after dark.
Like children discovering a new sensation, they discovered the night and its peacefulness —
something they never knew existed. Their only empty moments
came when they thought about children and the life with children
they would never have. And now Miss Annabelle brought that
buried longing back to the surface. And it was the depth of
his longing for something he could never have that made him
genuinely understand Miss Annabelle’s crisis. Suddenly, Jessie
wanted to punish Burke. None of this would have happened if
not for that pip-squeak. Burke started the fires that could burn
down the fantastic futures of twelve children and their teacher,
and Burke just walked away from the damage carefree or
laughing. Jessie’s thoughts jumped to the gang members who,
because of their life threats on Angie and her family, walked
away from justice. Burke too, Jessie realized, was walking away
from justice. And whereas the gang members diminished the
futures of Jessie and Angie and erased the two or three children
who never were conceived…Burke potentially diminished the
futures of twelve children and their teacher, even more when
considering their children who would have also grown up with
the life-lifting power of building never-before-seen puzzle —
pictures, and their children and so on.
Knowing the pain of having to live his entire life without
experiencing a daughter and a son to love and to develop…he
could relate to the loss Miss Annabelle would feel if this class
— her children — were taken away from her. He slowly shifted
his eyes back toward her and looked straight into her eyes.
“I understand,” he said, simply. A wave of relief washed
through Miss Annabelle’s purple eyes, and she smiled, forgetting
for a moment her battle just a few hours away. For once, another
adult understood the meaning behind her new life and the
importance of her teaching those children…an importance that,
to her, went beyond her own wants and emotions. As Jessie
watched her smile, he wondered what she had been through in
her past. It must have been a struggle, he thought, something
she broke free of. His own past and Angie’s past were struggles,
which they broke free of. The past, somehow, made the three
of them different from those around them…and was now bringing
them together.

59

Miss Annabelle was nervous when she arrived at seven
o’clock that November evening. Seeing the unnatural sight of
a dozen or so cars in the parking lot in the dark added to her
nervousness. Those are my prosecutors, she thought.
She felt a gush of cold air when she opened her car door,
and she started shivering. The cold night unfairly teamed up
with her nervousness to send this little warrior into waves of
shivers. I hope I’ll stop shivering when I’m inside, she thought.
She walked toward the school, which for the first time looked
imposing. All she could think about was that she hoped she
could stop this uncontrollable shivering. When she entered the
school, she quickly walked into the girls’ room, partly because
she needed to use the rest room and partly to gain composure.
As she warmed up, her shivering calmed down, but it still came
in waves, particularly when she saw in her mind’s eye a table
of twelve school board members questioning her sexual behavior.
She wondered if she would be able to answer their questions if
she were shivering like this. The more she thought about it,
the more nervous she got. What if I can’t even talk? she thought.
She wished she had worn warmer clothes. She started
running in place in the empty rest room. That helped. She was
thawing out, and the exercise caused her to breathe more deeply
and evenly. She started feeling better, and headed out the door,
toward the battlefield.
When she approached the teachers’ lunch room, where the
emergency meeting would be held, she could hear the
congregation of adults talking. Suddenly, she was nervous again,
the cold feeling and butterflies returned. When she saw the
strangers filling two of the oblong tables pushed together into
one extra-long table, she started shivering again. The adults all
seemed excited. After all, they had never been summoned for
a sex scandal, especially involving a beautiful woman. They held
the power of her future in their hands. She never liked this
room; now she hated it.
“Miss Annabelle,” she heard Ms. Minner snap, “You will sit there.”

60

Miss Annabelle spotted the freshly revived principal who
was feeling confident in this den of male wolves. She was
gesturing to the chair at the far end of the stretched table. As
Miss Annabelle walked toward the chair, she could feel some
of the men checking out her body, which made her more
uncomfortable. She noticed how big the men seemed. Maybe
they were posturing like a rooster, but they seemed unusually
wide as they turned their heads to look at her. And the women
seemed to be checking out her body and dress too. They also
seemed big, wide, broad at the shoulders. Ms. Minner could not
help feeling powerful now — the lioness looked caged and afraid.
As Miss Annabelle turned to face her prosecutors from the
far end of the table, her heart jumped in delight as she saw an
oasis, sitting behind the crowd of prosecutors: Jessie and Angie
were there! They both looked fearless and strong — two calm
black folks who had gone through tough times in the big city,
sitting in a room of sheltered, excited rural white folks who never
experienced really tough times. Jessie and Angie looked
confidently at Miss Annabelle. Before arriving, Ms. Minner had
tried to make Jessie and Angie leave, declaring that this was a
closed meeting. But it was Angie who, with a voice not to be
reckoned with, declared that a public school’s school board was
exactly what the name implied: public. She declared that she
and her husband had every right to be there, to observe, to
witness…and that they were not leaving. …No one in the room
challenged her.
Miss Annabelle looked back at Jessie and Angie. The eye
contact was like a fuel-line between them, and Miss Annabelle
felt their strength being pumped straight into her. As strength
filled her little body, the warmth returned and the shivering
stopped. The little warrior sat down, ready to battle.
“Miss Annabelle, sitting before you are the school board
members for the school district by which you are employed,”
bellowed a thick-boned man of German descent, standing at the
opposite end of the table. The tone of his voice made it clear
that she was on trial here. This was not an inquiry; it was an
inquisition. “Facing us are several complaints against you. The
nature of some of those complaints forced us to leave our
families this evening to call together this emergency meeting.”

61

Ms. Minner seemed to settle into a cozy spot, watching her
powerful school-board head, the superintendent, overpower this
righteous little sharp-tongued lioness. He continued, his voice
growing louder, in a barking crescendo, “Do you have any idea
of what those complaints are, Miss Annabelle?”
Perhaps from surviving hard times in her past, the little lady
instinctively knew she needed control right from the start. The
lioness roared back, “You practically yell my name at me and,
what? Do you expect me to address you now as — Sir? If
you want to continue with your intimidation tactics, I can make
this a very public event to get you a bigger audience. Or, you
can cut the show and start by introducing yourselves.”
Jessie and Angie leapt for joy, inside of course. Ms. Minner
and her allies were shaken from their smug seats. The white
folk at the table were looking around, clearing their throats, and
then all fixed their eyes nervously at their leader. He was
embarrassed. He now hated that woman, and she knew it. But
that did not matter. Only getting back to her children mattered,
and she knew this was the only way.
“Please excuse me for that oversight.” He hated to say those
words. “I’m Mr. Hammerschmidt, the superintendent.” The other
school board representatives introduced themselves one by one,
going around the table counterclockwise.
“Thank you. Of course, you all know I’m Miss Annabelle.
Now, Mr. Hammerschmidt, before answering your question, I
have a legal right to know who my accuser is. Who’s making
these complaints against me?”
Mr. Hammerschmidt did not expect this. In fact, he really
did not know the answer since the allegations just sort of swirled
up from a tornado of gossip. He sat, looking at his papers,
stumped.
“Let me ask you another question, Mr. Hammerschmidt. Did
a single complaint come from one of my students or from one
of their parents?” Miss Annabelle had him beaten, and she was
ready to make a swift kill of it. “Since you’re not answering,
I can answer that question: The answer is NO, not a single
student, not a single parent made a single complaint, which
means, Mr. Hammerschmidt, you’re walking on thin ice, about
to fall into a pool of defamation. Your so-called allegations come
from schoolhouse, lunchroom rumors.

62

You people have no idea
how much your giving credibility to such rumors by putting in
a substitute teacher and holding this meeting has cost me
emotionally and professionally. Let me warn you not to jerk
around someone’s life, like you have mine. Next time, you’ll
have a defamation lawsuit to contend with — each of you
personally and the state. Let this be a warning to you. I’ll be
in my room teaching my children in the morning. Good night.”
Miss Annabelle walked out of the room unscathed, mission
accomplished. She had shocked everyone there, including herself.
She could hear Hammerschmidt arguing with Ms. Minner. That’s
good, she thought, that’s perfect. She would be back with her
children the next day — gone for only one day! She was
delighted and wanted to be with Jessie and Angie. They wanted
to be with her. But they stayed behind, for the three of them
knew not to be seen together as allies. As Miss Annabelle
walked from the room, Jessie watched her and wondered from
where did this archangel come? He kept hearing her words in
his head, “Once you see through appearances to the essence of
things, then you have honest power in life.” Power, indeed.
The next morning felt like heaven — the preciousness of
being reunited with the children reverberated throughout her body
all day long. The kids felt it too. Just one day apart — yet
threatened with eternity — brought them closer together and lifted
them together to a new level. The children sensed by now that
Miss Annabelle was a precious gift. They did not take her for
granted. As each child walked into the room, his or her face
lit up upon seeing Miss Annabelle, and so did Miss Annabelle’s
heart as she enjoyed celebration after celebration with each child
who arrived.
All was wonderful on the day before Thanksgiving.

63

————————
Chapter
Five
————————

As Jake listened to Jessie and Angie tell the story of Miss
Annabelle, the college student began to imagine this attractive
couple twenty-seven years ago.
“What did you and Jessie do for fun in those days?” Jake
asked, looking at Angie. She laughed.
“We loved to go dancing,” she said. “We still do. We’d
go to movies, drive to the ocean. But mostly, we had fun every
day just experiencing freedom. Growing up trapped in poverty,
surrounded by crime and danger, lets you feel your freedom once
you have it. And it feels good. We loved going on walks and
bike rides. We still do. Memories of growing up in poverty
and crime never leave you. Enjoying our freedom never stops.”
Angie reached over and held Jessie’s hand. Jessie and Angie
were genuinely happy. Jake smiled at the irony: their stressed —
out childhoods caused them to enjoy life more as adults.
Jake had led a somewhat sheltered life, and he knew it. But
he felt close to Jessie and Angie, unusually close for having
known them for just a few hours. Why? he wondered. Then
he thought maybe he knew why: although he had always been
insulated from hard times, he was nevertheless always a bit of
a rebel…and very independent.

64

He grew up in a nice, middleclass home, but ever since he was a teenager, he always had a job; he paid his own way through
college; he was very honest, made his own decisions, and did not particularly follow the trend. Jake had a tendency to resist authority. These seemed to be some common traits in Jessie and Angie…and certainly Miss Annabelle.
“What did she do for fun?” Jake asked.
“Teach,” Jessie said. “That was her greatest fun, which
included developing her lectures — those masterpieces. I’m a
wiser man today because of her. She would spend hours after
school preparing her lectures — polishing those for the next day,
developing bits and pieces for future lectures. She was consumed
by those twelve children. And, I believe, she did a lot of deep
thinking about those kids’ personal lives…like helping Sally,
Rico, and Cathy, and encouraging budding talent in other kids
like Ian and Teddy. …It’s amazing how I still remember the
names of those kids. I guess Angie and I got pretty attached
to them through Miss Annabelle.”
“And she became our best friend,” Angie added. “We were
her only adult friends at first. The three of us would occasionally
go bike riding, have dinner and long talks, and the three of us
would even go dancing sometimes. She loved her freedom, like
us. She had a hard life before coming to Cheektowaga.”
Jake suddenly had lots of questions. He wanted to know
about Miss Annabelle’s past before she taught at Duncan
Elementary School. He wanted to know what happened to her
after teaching there. Also, he wanted to know why this pretty
lady did not have a man in her life.
But, as the questions were growing in his head, Angie said,
“It’s late guys. We’ll continue this tomorrow. Come on, Jake,
I’ll show you your room. …Oh, wait a minute, I almost
forgot…stay here.” In a minute Angie returned with a photo
album. “We’ll look through this tomorrow, but I just wanted
to show you what she looked like.”
As Jake looked at a 5 X 7 photo, the world around him went
silent. He immediately noticed her gentle features. He studied
her — first her pretty face, her expression, her eyes. They were
vibrant, beyond blue…they were lavender. She looked so full
of life…and so feminine. Her soft auburn hair amplified her
eyes. Now that he knew about her, the picture meant much
more.

65

He tried to imagine her having lunch every day with the
children…and then shutting down the school board. Her body
was small, small bones, but with very appealing proportions.
Most striking of all, however, was looking at her not feature by
feature, but as a whole: she looked happy. …As Jake studied
the picture closely, Angie smiled. Few men could resist the
attraction to that little package called Miss Annabelle.

*

Jake woke the next morning in the little guest room feeling
refreshed. He got up in time to see Angie and Jessie walking
around the house gathering a house key, a water bottle, and some
other gadget. They were wearing matching sweats, and they
looked like a couple of teenagers raring to go.
“Good morning, Jake,” Angie said, spotting him first. There’s
some scrambled eggs and bacon on the stove, and raisin bread
in the fridge.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, wondering what the lovebirds were
up to.
“We’re going riding,” Jessie said. His job did not start until
11:00 a.m. at the school. Every morning Jessie and Angie went
for long bicycle rides through the suburbs and out into the
country. They loved their mornings…and their nights. They
loved their time together.
“Now I know how you two stay so fit and trim,” Jake yelled
after them as they bounced out the door.
He noticed Angie had left the photo album on the kitchen
table for him along with breakfast. He went straight to the photo
album, his curiosity overflowing, and he started at the beginning.
There they were, Jessie and Angie, in their early 30s, looking
just as they did now except Jessie’s hair was a shade darker in
those days and their skin was a little smoother. Otherwise, they
looked almost the same this morning as they did back then. As
Jake turned the pages, he noticed in all the pictures of Jessie
and Angie, they looked happy together, as they did this morning.
After turning a few pages, he saw her again — Miss
Annabelle — standing with Angie, arms around each other like
schoolgirl friends. Right away, he was studying the petite fair-skinned woman. She held the secret to life, he thought.

66

This beautiful woman knew the secret so few people ever know.
She had discovered the key to power over life, which every human
being seeks, but so few attain. He thought about her passing
that key on to her students. Now, I’ll discover that key, too,
he realized.
He wanted to track down the other nine children in that class
to see what became of them. Were they living average lives?
he wondered. Or did they have a little of the magic that caused
their three classmates to become living legends?
When Jessie and Angie returned, Jake asked them, “What
about the other nine kids in her class, do you know what
happened to them?”
“Ambitious people tend to move out of this little town,” Jessie
said. “None of them live here anymore.”

*

At 10:40, Jake jumped in the car with Jessie. He wanted to
spend the day with him at the school and brought along some
books to study while Jessie worked. On the way, Jake said, “I
noticed the pictures of Miss Annabelle with you and Angie
stopped after about a year. What happened to her?”
“Annabelle Barclays,” Jessie said.
“What?”
“Her name’s Annabelle Barclays, but the kids called her Miss
Annabelle. I always addressed her as Miss Annabelle around
the school.”
“Did she teach another class the next year?”
“No, the school board finally got her. They fired her. It
was a mess. She was devastated. But, on the other hand, she
was able to fight them back until the end of the school year.
She loved her twelve students. All she hoped for was to finish
the year, and she got it.”
One teacher, twelve kids, three of whom became the biggest
phenoms of the decade. Jake wondered what dynamos would
have risen and what discoveries the world might have seen if
she were teaching these past twenty-seven years.

67

“Where is she now?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. No one does. The court put a restraining
order on her—”
“A restraining order!”
“Yup. She couldn’t visit the school or any of the kids. To
her, that was like her own children were taken from her. She
couldn’t take it emotionally and eventually had to leave. We
got a postcard from her a few weeks later saying she was okay,
but that she couldn’t come back. She said she painfully missed
us and the kids, but it would be best not to see Angie and me.
There was no return address. Angie tried to track her down with
no luck.”
“But why not at least keep in touch?”
“You’ll understand why she could no longer have contact with
us once you hear the whole story. I don’t know…her world died
here, Jake. She had to go. She was a wonderful part of our
lives. We still miss her.”
The tragedy seemed huge to Jake. “But she handled the
school board so well.”
“Oh yes she did! She was good; man she was good. She
was a fighter. And her fearlessness was the only reason she
lasted the school year.”
“What happened after the emergency school-board meeting?”
Jake asked.
Jessie continued the story, “It all started the Monday morning
after Thanksgiving…”

*

“Good morning, everyone,” Miss Annabelle said, feeling extra
cheerful after having found two adult friends in Jessie and Angie
over the long four-day weekend. “Did you all have a happy
Thanksgiving?”
The twelve children looked different from the other children
at Duncan Elementary School. These twelve children looked glad
to be back to school. Not one child came in late. And in the
hallways, Miss Annabelle’s students could be seen rushing
straight to class, more interested in the lectures in the classroom
than the chatter in the halls.
Miss Annabelle’s students always did their homework and did
it well. After three months of school, parents still could barely
believe their children’s enthusiasm.

68

Her first lecture of each day
was always on a general topic, and the kids were encouraged
to interact during this lecture. This was the prize lecture many
parents and kids not in her class listened to loyally.
The four other lectures that followed each day were science,
math, literature, and history. Although those lectures were more
specialized to the subject, they too were fascinating and sparkling
with broad-sweeping integrations. She designed her lectures
weeks, even months in advance. And it was one of those future-planned science lectures, which she was preparing for delivery
on the last week of school, that was unexpectedly prompted this
Monday morning during her first lecture. She started her first
lecture simply enough. The topic was, fittingly, about rumors
and gossip.
“How many of you know what rumors are?” About a third
of the hands went up.
“How about gossip?” About half the hands went up.
She went on to explain that rumors and gossip caused
appearances that we must see through…to what is. “Rumors and
gossip build a big scenario about something, but they offer no
evidence,” she said.
Ian Scott, who had taken a growing interest in the cosmos
ever since his father took him to the observatory, raised his hand.
He shocked the class and Miss Annabelle when he said, “That
means God must be a rumor.”
Miss Annabelle was in a predicament. She knew that any
more controversy could cause her to get fired and lose these
children. And she knew that Ian, a budding scientist, was right
— there was no evidence but lots of talk, just as she had defined
rumors. All eyes stared at her, waiting for her answer.
She knew that her answer had to be honest, yet an honest
answer that questioned the existence of God could be used by
the school board to stir up discontent and eventually to get her
fired. Yet, she knew she couldn’t effectively not answer the
question.
Without a choice, she started into the science lecture she was
preparing for the last week of school, just before the summer
break when the resulting controversy could not easily build
momentum.

69

“I will answer that question as honestly as I can. First, who
in here believes that intelligent life exists out there on other
planets?” Most if not all the children raised their hands. “When
you consider the size and mass of our universe, and the ease
for lower life forms to develop and start the process of evolution,
it becomes statistically overwhelming that the Universe is full
of intelligent beings like us. Now, I want you to consider where
we are now with space travel and exploration.” Suddenly Ian’s
hand went up and Miss Annabelle nodded to him.
“Oh, it’s nothing compared to what is being planned for the
future. We’ve walked on the moon, but now they’re talking
about commercial flights to the moon and resorts on the moon.”
“Imagine that!” Miss Annabelle said. “Look how fast
progress happens, especially once businesses get involved. In
1936, we completed the technology to control nature on a grand
scale: we completed Hoover Dam to control the Colorado River.
That accomplishment, to control nature on a grand scale, took
man thousands of years — from the dawn of human
consciousness to 1936. But then, it took just another thirty-three
years to travel to the moon. And, as Ian opened our eyes to:
when space development becomes commercial and businesses
learn to profit from it, especially if left free from political
agendas and if able to pursue profits that make capitalism work,
then what was not long ago ‘one giant leap for mankind’ will
become commonplace. …In other words, knowledge and
progress when free of political forces, increase not linearly but
geometrically.” Miss Annabelle went to the chalkboard and drew
both the straight-line incline of a linear increase and the upward-curving incline of a geometrical increase.
“If businesses are left alone by regulatory bureaucrats, and
in several years we are vacationing on the moon, where will we
be in several decades or, with geometrical increases in knowledge,
even a few years after lunar vacations?”
“Vacationing on Mars!” Ian shouted out, sitting on the edge
of his seat.

70

“Or, businesses might be corralling and harvesting asteroids
for our needs — perhaps mining raw materials or setting up
orbiting cities for an expanding civilization. Now, I want you
to stretch your minds a bit: What will we be doing with space
development a few hundred years ahead? What do you think
Ian?”
Ian thought for a moment, then he said, “We’d probably
control everything in our solar system.”
“Goodness yes, Ian…I’d say at least everything in our solar
system. Now, Ian, try this question: What would we be doing
with space development a few thousand years ahead?”
“We’d probably control everything in our galaxy…or maybe
even sooner because of that geometric curve you drew on the
board,” he said without hesitation.
“Now, Ian, what would we — or any intelligent being, for
that matter — be doing with space development a few million
years ahead?”
“Wow, would they control everything in our Universe?” Ian
asked.
“Yes, they would,” Miss Annabelle said matter-of-factly. And
when considering how big and how old our Universe is, there’s
intelligent life out there not just a few years into computer-driven
high technology and space exploration, but millions of years.”
“Do those super-advanced beings control the Universe?” Ian
asked.
“It stands to reason, doesn’t it?” Miss Annabelle said. “They
would have the technology to corral matter and create big-bang
explosions, perhaps creating a galaxy for some beneficial purpose
to balance gravitational forces or for other unimagined reasons.
As far out as I can think, logic seems to dictate that intelligent
beings like us control the cosmos.”
“Wouldn’t there be some bad star wars?” Danny asked.
“Actually, no,” Miss Annabelle said, smiling. “Every planet
inhabited with intelligent beings reaches a point called the
Nuclear Decision Threshold. We have reached that point on
Earth. We have the nuclear power to destroy civilization. Now,
we either learn how to end irrationality and war, or we will
eventually destroy ourselves. To advance significantly beyond
this Nuclear Threshold, our civilization must discover how to end
irrational political power and its wars and terrorism. Once this
is figured out, and only if it is, an intelligent civilization advances
limitlessly and eternally. Those super-advanced beings then join
the pure, benevolent Civilization of the Universe.

71

In that civilization free of irrationality and war, everything and everyone is focused on building values for others. And those values grow geometrically to become enormous values such as eliminating
disease…even death.”
Ian, always so astute, finally voiced it: “So, intelligent beings
like us control the cosmos — not a mystical spirit called God.”
After a pause, Miss Annabelle answered: “It would seem so.”
She felt anxious acknowledging his comment. She was worried
what the school board would do with this lecture. “When you
pierce through to the essence of the Universe, intelligent beings
rather obviously control the cosmos. But if we back down to
the appearances of things, then we could say that God controls
the cosmos.”
“Is there a God?” a little girl named Debbie asked.
“In thinking over and over again about what I lectured today,
I realized that perhaps there is no more need for God. At first,
man needed God to explain things we didn’t know like our
existence and our superior intelligence, our beautiful animals and
our sophisticated ecosystems. Then, Charles Darwin came along.
Remember I mentioned this on our camping trip? His Theory
of Evolution through Natural Selection ended the need to explain
man and animals in terms of a Majestic Creation or a divine plan.
Everything was easily explainable through science. As scientists
prove that intelligent beings take over nature and control the
cosmos on a grand scale, the need for God creating and
controlling the Universe will subside. Something even better and
even more secure will replace the idea of God and heaven.”
“God is man,” Jeremiah said.
“Yes, Jeremiah,” Miss Annabelle concurred.
“Man controls the cosmos,” Jeremiah continued.
“God-Man,” Miss Annabelle added.
Ian sat on the edge of his chair, eyes big, brain busy. The
other children were fascinated by the lecture. Like the first day
of school, never had anyone talked to them like this. They felt
alive, exhilarated, and they understood what their teacher was
saying. In fact, they all had an extraordinarily easy time grasping
that the size, mass, and age of the Universe meant that intelligent
beings long ago took complete control of the cosmos. And as
these children gained more and more control of life, the thought
that their cosmic cousins controlled the heavens stimulated their
desire to learn.

72

“Someday I want to say, ‘let there be light!’ and create a
galaxy,” Ian said.
It’s just phenomenal, Miss Annabelle thought, how in thirty
minutes children can see through to the essence of things,
whereas adults would require years or decades…if they’d ever
see through to the essence at all.

*

Jessie and Jake had arrived at the school. The car was noisy
and in need of repair, but Jake was in a space that no sound
could interrupt; he was deep in thought about Miss Annabelle’s
breakthrough-thinking about the cosmos. Jake felt his skin
crawling as he realized that every major cosmological discovery
in the past twenty-seven years pointed strongly to her hypothesis:
the discovery of abundant water throughout the Universe, the ease
within a planetary system for naturally occurring chemical
reactions that start life and its process of evolution through
natural selection, the older age of the Universe than suspected
as we see further and further into it. Jake knew that her lecture,
as told to him by Jessie twenty-seven years later, was having
an impact on his view of himself and his role in life.
When he and Jessie were walking from the car across the
parking lot, Jake broke the silence:
“What happened to her tapes? They weren’t destroyed were
they?” Jake asked, almost feeling panic.
“No, I have a copy of every lecture,” Jessie answered with
a big smile. Jake stopped Jessie and put his hands on both of
Jessie’s broad shoulders and practically shouted, “That’s
wonderful! Jessie, you’re sitting on a gold mine of knowledge!”
“I know it, Jake. I’ve known it for twenty-seven years.”
“I’ve got to go back to the house. I’ve got to start listening
to her lectures!”
“Be back by seven,” Jessie said with a smile, handing Jake
the keys.

73

Angie and Jake pulled the boxes out of the closet. They were
full of hundreds of tapes. The lectures were all labeled and in
immaculate order. The tapes were old, but Jake could hear her
voice. He fell in love with her voice. It was gentle yet strong,
just as she looked in her pictures. What a gift those children
had, Jake kept thinking as he listened to complex insights into
life and human nature, communicated so simply and so coherently
to her class. …Now Jake understood why Miss Annabelle spent
hours each day preparing those lectures, breaking through to the
essences of life and breaking them down into easy-to-chew bites
for her students. Listening to tape after tape, Jake had no idea
that her lectures would cover such a wide range of subjects,
piercing each one, going down, down, down to the essence, which
usually revealed a whole new way of looking at something. The
breadth and depth of her lectures captivated Jake as the hours
slipped by. Angie had left him alone.
Jake listened to lecture after lecture as Miss Annabelle
systemically broke down illusion after illusion. Then, while
listening to his ninth lecture, it hit him: he knew why she must
finish her year with her students. The sun had gone down and
the lecture Jake was listening to was about false authority when
suddenly he stopped hearing the important words Miss Annabelle
spoke…words he had hung onto, every one of them, for the past
few hours as she knocked down the matrix of illusions. His
thumb pushed the “stop” button on his audio cassette player.
Looking straight ahead, but seeing images from another place and
time, Jake uttered, “Wow…she’s building something huge.”
Each major illusion that was vanished, in turn, revealed and
snapped into place a new puzzle piece to the growing puzzle–
picture that would reveal a world of what is, not ruled by a
matrix of illusions…a world never seen before in which ordinary
people had enormous power. “For, they see only what is,” Jake
muttered, “causing a completely different mentality.” That new
mentality, he thought, that next evolution of man can build mental
puzzles to reveal never-before-seen puzzle-pictures for the world.
In other words, that new mentality enables the ordinary person
to create magnificent values for the world. The mind sees what
is, so its ideas and concepts are real and powerful and can be
interlocked with other real concepts to begin the process of
building mental puzzles that either take values to the next level
or create magnificent new values.

74

Miss Annabelle was building the never-before-seen picture of
the illusion-free world of what is that flourished with a new
mentality — the next evolution of man, the God-Man. A whole
new world, a whole new way of thinking, a whole new way of
seeing everything…my god, Jake realized, that’s it! That’s why
three of her students have gone on to change the world!
Although the new world is not here yet, Miss Annabelle showed
it to them, and their minds had jumped to the next mentality,
the mentality of the new world. With that new mentality, they
created magnificent values for the world.
Jake now knew that Miss Annabelle was building that puzzle-picture of the new world with each lecture. She was
painstakingly fitting each piece into place to give her students
the picture — the jumping off point — to the next evolutionary
leap of man. That puzzle-picture was the secret key to their life
of creation, wealth, and love. And Miss Annabelle knew that
if she could not finish the year, she could not complete the
puzzle.
She knew what she had to do. No one but she knew what
she had to do. She was all alone.

*

“There you are, buddy!” Jessie boomed across the room at
Jake.
“What?” Jake said, pulling off his earphones, looking up at
Jessie who was feigning a crossed look. “Oh…Jessie, what time
is it?”
Jake looked at his watch that displayed 8:55 p.m. “I…I’m
sorry! I lost track of time. …How’d you get home? How long
were you waiting?” Jake really felt bad; he felt he was now
intruding on Jessie and Angie. But then Jessie laughed like a
father who had his son worried.
“I knew when I sent you home to those tapes you wouldn’t
be back to pick me up. So Angie and I planned to make an
evening of it.” Jessie was laughing.
“We went to Berticini’s for an Italian dinner,” Angie said, smiling at Jake.

75

“You needed your time with her.”
Jake felt immediately relieved. “Thank you, guys,” he said
sheepishly.
“Here, honey. Come over here and have some of this
delicious lasagna we ordered for you,” Angie said. She set him
a place at the dining room table.
“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you’re
doing, but I will,” Jake said.
“You’re repaying us by what you’re doing for our friend,”
Jessie said, and Angie nodded. “She was something, wasn’t
she?”
“Yes, she was,” Jake said, his thoughts drifting back to her
lectures, “…yes, she was.”
Seeing the distant look in Jake’s eyes, Angie said, “We’ll
leave you alone tonight, dear.” Angie and Jessie went upstairs
to retire for the night. When Jessie yawned, his wife pinched
him on the cheek, and they giggled like adolescents.
Jake, on the other hand, was full of energy. He would be
awake listening and pondering for another five hours or so. After
saying “good-night” to Angie and Jessie, he started thinking about
this puzzle-picture Miss Annabelle was building.
As Jake listened to lecture after lecture, as illusion after
illusion fell, he watched the puzzle-picture coming together and
growing piece by piece. Miss Annabelle was building the puzzlepicture that would show her students the world of no illusions
in which the next level of the human mind existed — the GodMan.
Late into the night when Jake’s eyes got heavy, he felt a
release of happiness go through his body. The euphoria woke
him up, and no longer felt tired. Then another release of
happiness rushed through him. He had never felt these
“happiness attacks” before. He was alone, but he had never felt
so happy. For the first time, he knew that life had much more
meaning than he or his parents had ever known. Another whole
world existed, an entirely new level of being. The knowledge
that something so much better awaits us sent these releases of
happiness through Jake. The heretofore hidden meaning of life
at the next level would show itself as Miss Annabelle’s puzzle
grew and revealed man’s true potential that had eluded humanity.

76

Jake was young, but during the past year, he was beginning
to sense the stagnation that life had in store for him. But tonight,
he knew the secrets to an exciting life lay in those tapes.
“Man, this is how Miss Annabelle felt — so happy,” Jake
whispered to himself, unaware of the lingering smile on his face.
“She was not lonely or sad. She didn’t feel like a punished
outcast. No, she was experiencing these bursts of happiness
every day as she built her puzzle that would release man’s
limitless potential to those she loved most. She had found that
elusive ‘something more to life’, which humanity searched for,
generation after generation since the dawn of consciousness, but
never found. Now I know that every day, as she enlightened
her students, she would feel and collect the rewards.” Despite
the painful moments, Jake now realized, her life was beautiful.

77

————————
Chapter
Six
————————

The logs in the fireplace were crackling; the room was warm.
Miss Annabelle stood in the middle of her living room. She
looked through the big bay window. Her front yard, driveway,
and the street were covered in a white blanket of snow. The
snow was still falling, and the snowflakes seemed unusually large.
It was Christmas Day.
She opened the front door and stepped outside. The roads
were empty, and she loved peaceful times like this. She looked
at the branches of the pine trees covered with their own blankets
of snow. “It’s so beautiful out here,” she thought. The little
blankets of snow on the branches of trees and on the mail boxes
and on the cars, and the thick blankets on the houses and over
the ground seemed to absorb the normal sounds right out of the
air. …Under growing pressures from the school board and
faculty at school, Miss Annabelle derived great pleasure from this
peaceful moment.
The neighbors’ two boys suddenly cracked the silence with
yelps of joy as they ran outside and instinctively started a
snowball fight.
“Hi, Miss Annabelle!” they yelled when they saw her. Lee
and Todd knew about her enormous popularity among the
students at school.

78

And although they were in the second and fifth grades, they felt as though they lived next to a celebrity. And Todd had high hopes of having Miss Annabelle for his teacher the next year.
“Merry Christmas, boys!” she said. She loved to hear those
two happy children playing in the yard on weekends and
holidays. “I have something for you two.”
The boys came running over, and she invited them in to give
them their presents. When she handed them the wrapped gifts,
she said they could open them now. They tore off the wrapping
paper and, at about the same moment, both said, “Cool!” when
they saw their new walkie-talkies.
Miss Annabelle put batteries in their new toys; Lee and Todd
could be seen the rest of the day, running around the yards,
talking to each other through their walkie-talkies.
Back in her house, she was excited to start working on her
lectures that day. Today was about to become her most exciting
Christmas ever. A few weeks before, Miss Annabelle noticed
her lectures were starting to, unexpectedly, snap together like a
puzzle, building a picture bigger than the sum total of themselves.
What’s happening? she wondered, at first, not yet
understanding the nature of Neothink.
She thought about how hard she worked on her lectures, how
deeply she thought about things and how honest she must be to
cut through what appears to be to what is. The common
denominator snapping together this synergistic puzzle-picture, she
realized, was pure honesty. It was hard work to be fully honest
and get down to the essence of things — past the appearances
to what is.
But what would this growing puzzle-picture of her lectures
eventually reveal? What would it lead to? Today she would
learn the answer.
She knew she was knocking down the complex matrix of
illusions for her students, one by one. But that was all she was
aware of doing — knocking down illusions. But each time she
knocked down an illusion, she was left with something tangible
and valuable — a real piece of a whole new world. Today she
would explicitly realize that a whole new world exists, a world
without illusions, and she was building the puzzle-picture to that
new world. Each illusion she knocked down, she was left with
another piece to the puzzle.

79

Today she would also learn that
in that new world man lives with a different way of thinking,
powerful thinking that yields power and wealth. In that world,
we become the God-Man — the next evolution of man with a
new mentality. Today she would learn that the growing puzzle-picture her lectures would reveal is that new world, and that
revelation would show her students the way to make the
evolutionary leap into the new think.
Honesty is the common denominator building this puzzle, she
thought. Can I see enough of the picture, before I know all the
pieces, to suddenly see what the whole picture will look like
when complete and know what I’m striving to show my students?
That’ll help me know what the missing pieces look like to form
my lectures faster.
Suddenly she knew she needed help from the creative part
of her brain. Excited by her challenge, Miss Annabelle twirled
across her living room like a ballerina, over to her stereo. She
placed two albums on her record player, then the beauty of
Tchaikovsky filled her house.
“That’s better,” she sighed. She filled her bathtub with hot
water and bath oils. Just before she stepped in, she remembered
to light her scented candles. Then, she slid her fair, sleek body
into the liquid warmth as her mind slid into an imaginative,
wonderful world.
I’ll visit the world of pure honesty, where there are no
illusions. Everything is what is…a totally honest world. What’s
it like?
Swan Lake filled the air; vanilla-cinnamon did too as the
warm water wrapped itself around her every mound and filled
her every dip. Her mind slid toward another place and time,
somewhere in the future:
She asked herself, what causes the matrix of illusions all
around us? Why do the illusions exist? In many cases, she
realized, the illusions originated from politics. What appears
good by those who control us is really, at the essence, bad. The
common denominator beneath those illusions? The illusions
support people who do not contribute tradable values to society.
The illusions support politicians and freeloaders. At the same
time, the illusions hurt everyone else, but the people don’t know it.

80

What if there were a place, a world of no politicians? As
absurd as that seems, Miss Annabelle closed her eyes, slid deeper
into her warm bath, and tried to imagine such a place: There,
everyone was happy. Letting her imagination flow, without trying
to figure out the logic behind it, Miss Annabelle noticed major
differences immediately: everyone was wealthy, everyone was
healthy, everyone had a livelihood they loved, couples were
mutually, madly in love, they were all slim and sexy, and
everyone was like a genius building exciting values for the
world.
The more the people built their creations, the happier they
were and the wealthier society became. Everyone’s job was like
an entrepreneurial adventure; they thrived in the careers of their
dreams. They were so happy, they would celebrate their
happiness every day with their spouses of their dreams and their
children. And, with so many breakthrough values coming into
society, the medical field was no exception. The people lived
with near-perfect health.
Somehow, Miss Annabelle knew her beautiful vision of the
future, free of the matrix of illusions, was valid. All the pieces
fit together perfectly. Her vision had everything to do with the
people finally seeing through what appears to be — the illusions
— to what is.
Unexpectedly, she started remembering her past, which was
full of illusions that were impossible to see through. She
remembered her ex-husband who obsessively told her that he
loved her. And she believed him. One day, he hit her in a
jealous rage. But the next day he apologized so genuinely and
articulated how he loved her with such passion, she continued
to believe him.
But things got worse. She believed him…until one day he
battered her so badly that she lay unconscious on the kitchen
floor. When she regained consciousness, the last thing she
remembered was her husband pointing a knife at her, telling her
he would kill her.
Perhaps for self-preservation, at that moment her mind saw
straight through the illusions in her marriage. And her mind did
not stop there. As if the trauma had altered her brain’s thought
patterns, she started seeing through the illusions in society all
around her.

81

No one else seemed able to break through the
spell…until her students.
She had survived a horrible physical beating and severe
emotional trauma. Suddenly, though, she started seeing through
it all — to the essence of things…where the power in life awaits
ordinary, powerless people. For, at the essence, they can take
actions that will change their lives for the better.
Like rising from the dead, Miss Annabelle turned all her
meekness into the strength of ten people. She ran her husband
out of her life, moved to a new state and new life, and started
her year at Duncan Elementary.
As she soaked her body in the tub, she smiled at herself. A
year ago, she was not able to see through the illusions that had
made her a powerless prisoner…not until survival pressures
forced her to. …Survival pressures.
“Ah ha!” she shrieked. “That’s it: survival pressures!”
Suddenly, the mystery started coming together. Could this be
how to cross over from today’s world controlled by a dishonest
matrix of illusions…to the completely honest world of individual
power and prosperity…through survival pressures?
For some time, she had likened politicians and regulatory
bureaucracies to wife beaters. Indeed, they continually battered
down society’s potential progress, which suppressed the people’s
standard of living, and politicians did this harm while telling us
they love us with their “compassionate” programs for the “public
good”.
Like me with my ex-husband, she thought, the people are
powerless prisoners to the politicians’ illusions. And, like me,
the people cannot break free until society suffers enough that the
people face survival pressures. But that won’t happen because
the politicians will not suppress the collective society to that low
point where people will break through the illusions.
I ran my husband and his sweet-talk out of my life, she
thought. But will the people run the career politicians and their
programs for the “social good” out of their lives? Will the
people someday elect value producers instead who’ll remove the
debilitating regulatory bureaucracies that block rapid progress?

82

Without that regulatory web holding everything down, more and
more tender youth would rise into entrepreneurial geniuses who
would bring great new values to the world, especially exciting
new technologies. The computer chips in the new
microcomputers, for instance, have been advancing very fast, she
thought. Politicians and bureacrats have no idea yet how to
regulate that new technology. Without the regulatory web,
thoroughly spun throughout every other industry, technology
would advance really fast in every field, which would start driving
up our buying power, she realized, just as what was starting to
happen to the microcomputers. At that moment, an image of
Sally’s mom flashed in Miss Annabelle’s mind. She sighed and
then muttered, “Technological breakthroughs in the medical field,
especially, would soar when we depoliticize that industry. Sally’s
mom could be cured.”
What a beautiful world that would be, she thought. Buying
power would soar in all industries, making ordinary people
wealthy. Disease after disease would be cured. And to keep
up in that rapidly advancing society, business structures would
have to change to survive, she realized. The typical routine rut
would become a thing of the past as the wealthy people would
no longer need to work from paycheck to paycheck. Instead,
they would search for and discover what they really loved to do
and, therefore, be highly motivated to build their competitive
creations for the world. To encourage that widespread
motivation, the job structure itself would have to change, under
survival pressures, beyond today’s routine ruts. Perhaps jobs
would become little entrepreneurial units to encourage and reward
people’s greatest asset — their buried creativity.
And with such stimulating new jobs, people would become
ever more creative thinkers, just as she had herself since
switching off her former following mode. Moreover, people
would fall in love with their work and goals…just as she had.
And, being so happy, their love and family relationships would
flourish. Like her own wonderful life since cutting through the
illusions and dumping her oppressive ex-husband, the lives of
ordinary people would soar once they cut through the illusions
and dumped their oppressive politicians and bureaucrats.
With nothing holding back civilization and technology, it would
be a new world with super technologies and super standards of
living, she thought.

83

Then, she leaned back in the tub and
scooped the warm water over her breasts. She suddenly stopped
and stared straight ahead. …But how do we get there…to that
new world? How will the people ever dump the politicians and
bureaucrats, for Americans are not fighting for survival?
That question tormented her; it also helped her understand
the nature of her growing puzzle-picture. The puzzle-picture she
was building for her students through her lectures was what she
had just been imagining — a new world free of the matrix of
illusions. In that new world of what is, there would be no more
ruling class of politicians and regulatory bureaucrats who drain
the people through a matrix of illusions, because the matrix of
illusions would not exist. As she imagined that illusion-free
world, she realized that a paradigm shift in the human perspective
occurred: man saw himself as the supreme value — the God-Man. Nothing was above the individual, not government, not
God.
The matrix of illusions was today too powerful in the minds
of adults to see this fundamental shift in the human perspective.
…But as I break down the illusions, she thought, the
children…they’ll see it. They’ll see that as the supreme value
— the God-Man — they don’t need anyone telling them how
to live…they don’t need politicians or regulatory bureaucrats
suppressing them anymore. In that new world, the ordinary
person, seeing what is, has the power to be a self-leader. He
needs no external leaders. He jumps to a new mentality that
integrates knowledge and builds, through mental puzzles, new
knowledge and new values.
As I show them the new world, my students will make the
shift…and it’ll be my twelve children who bring the paradigm
shift in the human perspective to the world.
Over and over, the thought kept going through her head: my
twelve students will bring the paradigm shift in the human
perspective to the world. But how will they do it? She pondered
that question as the album changed and the music of Mozart
filled her house. How will the masses make the shift in the
human perspective without survival pressures? Without the
fear of death, as I experienced with my ex-husband, what
could possibly shatter the matrix of illusions that controls
humanity?

84

Then it hit her: maybe our deaths will be what my students
will eventually use to create the survival pressures needed to shift
the whole human perspective. If my students can show the world
that our “natural” deaths really are not natural — not for
conscious beings — then humanity would feel immense survival
pressures to make the paradigm shift in the human perspective:
to feeling the supreme value of the human life. Human
consciousness is too valuable to fall into the death cycle of
nature, trapped there by government and religion. Human
consciousness is supreme. That shift in perspective would
quickly dump oppressive politicization off the nation’s back and
bring about the freedom, demand, and then supply of: biological
immortality.
The shift in perspective to the supreme value of man — God-Man — would end politicians and regulatory bureaucrats as we
know them. The government could no longer hold back rapid
technological progress in any field, especially the medical field;
the resulting wealthy and healthy people would discover such
rewarding love and happiness they would desire to live eternally;
entrepreneurial businessmen and women would have the freedom
and motivation to rise and respond to the huge demand to cure
the ultimate disease of aging and death. …That all will happen
when humanity shifts its perspective…to the God-Man. Fulfilling
her vision of that future world would begin in her classroom,
with her growing puzzle-picture of the new world populated with
the God-Man.
“Perhaps that’s it,” she whispered, “death. Death certainly
is the ultimate consequence for what’s wrong with humanity.
Human life is the supreme value — not government, not God
— and must not be allowed to perish.”
She paused and thought to herself, I must create this puzzle-picture for my students. They’re the ones who’ll change the
world. With my puzzle-picture completed, they’ll have seen and
will permanently know the supreme value of human life, forever
in their souls. With that perspective, they’ll always avoid
destructive activities. They’ll never do drugs or drift into other
self-destructive activities; they’ll even take precautions such as
never riding with a reckless driver or someone who’s been
drinking. They’ll simply value their lives too much.

85

Miss Annabelle knew this puzzle-picture of the other world
and its supreme value of human life would permanently stay in
her students’ minds. Every decision they would hence make
would be positively influenced by the immense value of their
limited supply of life. Her remaining general lectures would
become the puzzle pieces to complete the puzzle-picture of the
new world and its supreme value of life.
Upon understanding this puzzle-picture about the world of the
God-Man she was creating for her students, Miss Annabelle
realized that the God-Man had an entirely different mentality.
He needed no outside forces guiding him. By seeing the essence
of things, he had the power to guide himself. Moreover, he could
integrate concepts to build puzzle-pictures of his future — puzzle-pictures in which he could see the puzzle pieces he must still
accomplish to fulfill that future picture. So, she realized, God-Man creates his future and guides himself to fulfill that future;
“just as my students will do,” she whispered.
Miss Annabelle finished her bath and wrapped a bathrobe
tightly around her small torso. She was supposed to go over
to Jessie and Angie’s place for Christmas dinner, but the roads
were not plowed. As Miss Annabelle called them, a unique
insight flashed through her head about her general lectures…from
a historical perspective.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi Angie,” said Miss Annabelle, bringing her back from
her insight, “I guess you’ve seen the roads.”
“I know. I’m so disappointed they’re not clearing them. I
don’t want you to be all alone on Christmas.”
“I’m actually excited about working on my general lectures
today. I just realized how to shape them to instill in my students
the supreme value of life. Honestly, Angie, I can’t wait to get
to work on the lectures.”
“Can you tell me some of your ideas?” Angie asked.
“Sure!” Miss Annabelle loved to share her ideas with Angie.
So, she sat down on the couch next to the phone and continued,
“I now understand the power of my general lectures.

86

In fact, I just had an insight while calling you as to why there aren’t true Renaissance men today or great thinkers such as the groundbreaking Greeks 2300 years ago. Those superachievers had what I’m giving my students in my general lectures. Outside of their
strict academic programs, those greats also got general tutelage,
often from great thinkers themselves — as did Plato from
Socrates, Aristotle from Plato, Alexander the Great from Aristotle.
Those tutors would undoubtedly deliver unique insights into life
that would shock their young students into different ways of
thinking about things, teaching their young minds how to break
through boundaries and cut through traditional dogma to the
essence and power in life.”
“Your general lectures do exactly the same thing for your
students,” Angie said.
“That’s right! Outside the fundamental academic training I
give them all day long, they also get my general lecture in the
morning, teaching their minds to cut through the matrix of
illusions to the essence of life. I know now this type of tutelage
was the secret behind the great minds of the famous Greeks and
Renaissance men. My students, with that same boundary-breaking power, can become great thinkers on par with anyone
in history!” She laughed with delight; a happiness attack rushed
through her body.
“Oh honey, you’re a godsend to those children.”
“You know, for years I’ve known that a person’s deep
motivational drive, or lack of it, determined that person’s eventual
success or failure in life. Breaking through boundaries to new
insights on life is exciting and motivating to children. They see
a whole new world — the world of what is, which is a beautiful
world of happiness and value creation, the world in which human
beings were meant to live. By experiencing boundary-breaking
insights during my general lectures, my students gain the ability
to do the same. They see through illusions to the essence of
things. I see their control and confidence grow every day. They
know that they’ll someday make major breakthroughs for the
world. So, their motivation grows. And it is that growing, deep
motivational drive that eventually generates legendary value
creators.”

87

Miss Annabelle and Angie talked for nearly an hour. When
they finished, and Miss Annabelle put the phone down, she heard
Lee and Todd’s mother calling them to come inside for Christmas
Dinner. Those two playful boys, she thought, if tutored properly,
could grow up to be legendary value creators. What if I could
give my general lectures to the entire student body? she
wondered. What if I could spread my teaching method across
the globe?

*

Now, twenty-seven years later, Jake was listening to the tapes
of her general lectures and lamenting over a thought Jessie had
first brought up: what if she had taught these past twenty-seven
years…how many legendary value producers would have risen
from her teachings? Three legendary value producers came from
her one year of teaching at Duncan Elementary.
Jake slipped in tape after tape. Miss Annabelle routinely
made boundary-breaking insights and snapped together the most
compelling picture on the supreme value of life ever presented
to nine-year-olds. Once people experience the shift in perspective
to the supreme value and power of themselves as the God-Man,
Jake thought, this deep-rooted motivational drive will belong to
them. With that natural drive and power, they will steadily
develop into major value producers…no, something even
better, he realized: they will steadily develop into major value
creators, even if they have no advanced education or particular
skills.
As Jake listened to the general lectures late into the night,
he knew he was witnessing a different mentality than his own.
In college, he had studied Julian Jaynes and his classic work
called The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the
Bicameral Mind. The renowned Dr. Jaynes of Princeton
University presented scientifically sound evidence that humanity
existed with a different mentality 3000 years ago. Man lived
through automatic, mimicked or learned reactions, without the
internal mind space needed to think as we do today. Then around
1000 BC, under enormous survival pressures as the bicameral
mind grew increasingly inadequate to handle the mounting
complexities of growing civilizations, mankind started its “jump”
to the self-controlling, self-determining mentality we experience
today with the internal mind space to think and make decisions.

88

But the God-Man’s puzzle-building ability created even
greater internal mind space to “jump” yet again, 3000 years later,
to another mentality, something Jake heard Miss Annabelle call,
during a science lecture, Neothink (for New Think). He realized
that with puzzle-building Neothink, Miss Annabelle created new
mind space and reached new levels previously unreachable within
our mind space now, beyond all our thinking tools today such
as metaphors and analog models of our current mentality. With
the God-Man mentality called Neothink, ordinary people could
take every field of knowledge and every value to the next level;
they could create entirely new fields of knowledge and
magnificent new values.
“Where is this woman taking us?” he wondered as he fell
asleep at the kitchen table while listening to her lectures.

89

————————
Chapter
Seven
————————

During the holiday break, Miss Annabelle planned to make
a visit to each of her students’ homes. She wanted to meet the
other parents she had not yet met and, most of all, she wanted
to know her students’ environments at home.
She wanted to visit Rico’s home first, for she worried most
about Rico’s home life and exposure to the criminal mind around
him. But she could not get ahold of his parents. When she
called, kids always answered the phone and said their parents
were not home. Twice Rico himself answered and said the same
thing.
So, Miss Annabelle made visits and brought little Christmas
presents to the other students. She visited the homes of Teddy,
Sally, Ian, Danny, Natasha, and Debbie…half her students. At
this point, she analyzed what she had seen, and she was pleased.
Their home life, for the most part, seemed normal. Their parents,
overall, seemed positive and supportive of their children. Miss
Annabelle received compliments from their parents, mostly about
how much they appreciated their children’s enthusiasm for school.
Because of her treatment from the adults at school and the
rumors, Miss Annabelle had been anxious about meeting her
students’ parents. But whenever she feared doing something in
life that she knew was good to do, she made herself go through
with it.

90

Now, she felt glad she was going through with this.
Still unable to talk to Rico’s parents, however, her next visit
was Cathy’s house. Miss Annabelle spent a little extra money
on Cathy’s Christmas present, getting her an elegant
jumpsuit…something to feel beautiful in.
When Miss Annabelle went inside, she was at once struck
by the obese size of everyone there. Miss Annabelle had seen
fat before, but not in this way. Every being in that house was
hugely fat; the four-year-old, the eight-year-old, the teenager, the
mom and the dad. They all carried the same ratio of fat too,
just at different ages. For instance, the fat four-year-old looked
like the fat mom, just a shorter version. Usually, Miss Annabelle
thought, the fat doesn’t start showing up until the third or fourth
grade in school, and then the weight gain would be gradual. But
in this house, the preschool child was just as fat as the mom.
This scene made Miss Annabelle very sad. Although the
house seemed neat and clean, Miss Annabelle immediately
noticed two outstanding problems:
First, she could see that the parents continuously pushed food
on their children. In the sweetest voice, Cathy’s mom several
times asked her three girls if they’d like something to eat. The
four-year-old and the teenager ate two substantial snacks during
the thirty minutes Miss Annabelle was there. When Cathy would
not snack, her mother shook her head and said, “I don’t know
what’s wrong with her. Lately, she won’t eat anything, it seems.”
Being as polite as she knew how, Miss Annabelle said, “Mrs.
Solomon, I don’t think anything is wrong with your daughter.
I think she’s trying to cut out snacking, which would actually
be healthy for her. …Maybe she can help lead an example for
her sisters, too.”
“Impossible!” Cathy’s mom said with a smile. “Us Solomons
come from big stock. We’ve been big like this for generations.
It’s just the way we are. It’s in the genes, you know.”
Miss Annabelle looked for a moment at Mrs. Solomon’s face,
then sincerely said, “You have beautiful features. So does Cathy.
I’d, for one, love to see her features come out. I bet she’d be
the most beautiful girl at Duncan Elementary.”
“Do you really think so?” Mrs. Solomon said, her
imagination drifting off for a moment.

91

After a brief escape, though, she shook off the thought and answered her own question.
“No way, José! The Solomons were born to be large.”
With that, she automatically performed an ingrained habit and
yelled out, “Cathy, come get your ice cream sandwich dear. Eat
up!”
The other outstanding problem Miss Annabelle detected was
the tension between Cathy’s mother and father. Miss Annabelle
could feel it the moment she met them. From deciding where
to sit and talk to answering Miss Annabelle’s questions, the
parents constantly went off into little sidebar arguments with each
other. A sense of hatred between mom and dad hung heavy in
the air.
It seemed to Miss Annabelle that the parents saw in each
other what they hated about themselves: out-of-control obesity.
Therefore, they seemed almost as if they wanted to hurt each
other. Even during the thirty minutes Miss Annabelle visited,
they could not stop themselves from taking out their frustrations
on each other.
The tension got so thick, Miss Annabelle could just imagine
what yelling must occur when they are not restrained by the
presence of adult company. Such yelling would frighten little
girls, she thought. Seeing the four-year-old watching television
and eating sugar pop cereal right out of the box, Miss Annabelle
realized that eating, beginning as little toddlers, probably provided
comfort to help soothe their frazzled nerves. As she looked at
the obese teenager watching TV and eating two pop tarts, Miss
Annabelle realized that eating for these girls started as an escape
from tension but turned into a way of life that would haunt these
beautiful children for their entire lives.
Her visit with Cathy’s folks saddened Miss Annabelle. That
poor little girl and her sisters are trapped in such a hopeless
situation, she thought. How can Cathy possibly lose weight, Miss
Annabelle wondered, if she’s constantly surrounded by people
eating, with parents encouraging her to eat, too?

92

Reggie lived in a home of poverty. His father abandoned
Reggie and his older twin sisters just before Reggie was born.
He never saw his father. His mother was a proud black woman
who believed in earning a living. Although she qualified,
Reggie’s mom refused welfare. Instead, she worked full time
cleaning homes.
Reggie did not have the same financial advantages of other
children. He had no father to speak of, and he saw his mom
much less than other children. Reggie’s circumstances saddened
Miss Annabelle. However, she felt his mother set a powerful
example of morals and ethics. In some ways, Reggie’s mom
reminded Miss Annabelle of Angie — a strong, honest woman
who has lived through hard times.
Despite a hard life, Reggie’s mom was one of the kindest,
most loving human beings. Given the luxury of time, Miss
Annabelle knew that she and this woman could be good friends.
Reggie would grow up without material things, but he had a solid
example of productivity and lots of love from his mom.

*

When Miss Annabelle walked into Jeremiah’s home, she was
startled by a lifesize statue of Jesus on the Cross in the small
entryway where a coat rack might otherwise go. The statue was
a hint of what the next 30 minutes would be like. When Miss
Annabelle left, she was not sure if Jeremiah’s mother was just
extremely religious…or what’s been called a “Jesus freak”.

*

Miss Annabelle’s next two visits went well. Both Bobby and
Alan lived in perfectly normal homes with kind and supportive
parents.
She still could not get through to Rico’s parents, though.
Finally, on the last day of the holidays, Miss Annabelle went
to Rico’s home and knocked. Rico opened the door.
“M…Miss Annabelle!” he stammered.
“Rico, why can’t I get hold of your parents?”
“They’re…they’re out.”
“Well, can I come in?”
“No! …Um, my folks don’t let anyone in the house unless
they’re here.”

93

“Ric, who da fuck’s dere!” his father boomed.
“Nobody!” Rico shouted back with the same irritation in his
voice.
“Nobody?” Miss Annabelle said in a tone that demanded an
explanation, although she was still a bit dazed by his father’s
vocabulary.
“Miss Annabelle, please leave,” Rico desperately whispered.
“Are you in some sort of danger?” she whispered back.
“No…I just want you to go.”
“But I want to meet your parents. Rico, let me meet your
parents. It won’t be so bad.”
She noticed when she mentioned Rico’s parents, she saw
panic in his face. But why?
“Rico,” she continued, “I must see your parents. I must come
in.”
But Rico continued protesting. As he did, it gradually
dawned on Miss Annabelle that Rico was ashamed of his parents
and did not want his teacher to see how he lived, as if he were
silently saying, “Don’t worry about me, Miss Annabelle; I can
handle it.” As she stood in the doorway and looked down at
little Rico trying to keep her from this criminal-minded world,
she suddenly realized he was trying to protect her. He did not
want her exposed to the disgust within his home.
Miss Annabelle all at once felt touched, and she felt sorry
for Rico; she knelt down to one knee so she could look straight
in his eyes, and said, “Sweetie, I have gone through some very
bad times in my life. I don’t think anything I see in there is
going to frighten me. I really want to come inside because I
love you, Rico. I just want to know more about you and your
life away from school. However, I’ll give you the decision here.
I want to come inside because of my love and concern for you.
But if you still ask me to leave, I will.”
Rico was moved. Out of both frustration and love, Rico
could not say anything. His eyes still pleaded with Miss
Annabelle to leave. He knew all he had to do was say “Please
leave,” and she would. But he did not say those two words.
Instead, he hung his head toward the floor and stepped aside to
let Miss Annabelle come in. As she walked past the devastated
little boy, she hated doing it, but she knew she needed to.

94

She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, Rico. It’s
really okay.”
Inside, she saw similarities to both Reggie’s situation,
especially the poverty, and Cathy’s situation, especially the
tension. But one trait made Rico’s situation far worse: the
laziness and its manifestations! The house was a pig pen deep
in dirt and junk everywhere. It looked like a filthy repair shop.
“I pick up the garbage, but my dad won’t let me throw out
this stuff,” Rico said.
Suddenly a deep voice startled Miss Annabelle. “What do
you want?” It was Rico’s father who had walked in from the
living room. Miss Annabelle noticed the body odor that followed
this large man.
“Hello, Mr. Rodriguez. I’m Miss Annabelle, Rico’s teacher
at Duncan Elementary School.”
“Is he in trouble?” he snarled, giving Rico a threatening look.
Obviously, this man, who had been in and out of prison more
than once, did not have a concern morally speaking. He just
resented the inconvenience to himself if Rico had been bad.
“No, to the contrary. Rico is a bright child. He has a
promising future.”
That comment shocked Rico. Right then, he felt a
transformation come over him. Never had anyone noticed him
as someone with promise! All he had ever heard is what “a
pain in the ass” he was or how stupid he was. Now, here was
this beautiful woman, whom Rico idolized, telling his father that
Rico was a bright child with a promising future! I’m bright,
he thought. That comment opened an excitement about himself
and his future he never felt before. He relived her comment
over and over again in his head for weeks thereafter.
“Rico’s bright?” his father asked, not sure if he heard her
right.
“He’s more than bright — he’s very bright, Mr. Rodriguez.”
“No shit?” his father laughed, “Imagine dat! …Do you dink
he’ll be rich someday?” He was joking.
“Yes, I’m certain he will be,” Miss Annabelle said, dead
seriously. Rico’s heart was pounding.

95

“You’re not here to tell me I need to start saving money to
send him to college, are you? Because I can tell you right now
lady, dat ain’t gonna happen…”
Miss Annabelle cut him off, “You don’t need to do a thing.
Rico can do it all himself. I just want you to know that he’ll
make it legitimately. He’s that smart. Don’t, please don’t
influence him down a wrong path in life. Don’t let him be
around people who are bad influences. He’s got too much ahead
to waste it.”
If someone talked to Rico’s father this way — telling him
what to do — that person would normally lose a few teeth. But
his father stood quiet for a moment as Rico watched him closely.
“OK,” he finally said, “I’ll respect my boy’s mind. …His
smarts come from me, you know.” That was the only semi-compliment Rico had ever received from his father. But what
made the moment unforgettable for Rico was how Miss Annabelle
felt about him. She turned to her handsome little protector and
handed him his wrapped present. He immediately opened it to
find three books inside: Martin Eden by Jack London, Calumet K
by Merwin Webster, and Fire Hunter by Jim Kjelgaard.
“You’ll like those,” Miss Annabelle said.
“Thank you!” Rico said. He was in awe, not by the present
per se, but by the idea that he was smart enough now to be
considered a reader!
Years later, with his library filled with books, Rico
remembered this home visit from Miss Annabelle as the turning
point in his life. He kept those three books as long as he lived.

*

That evening, Miss Annabelle reflected upon her holiday
visits. Six of her twelve students had quite normal home lives
and supportive parents.
One of her students, Teddy, had a home life that was
financially fragile, that could slip into poverty but was barely
hanging on to “normal”. However, since her talk with Teddy’s
father in the parking lot of the school a couple months ago, he
said he had gotten two promotions and was, for the first time
in his life, moving up into management and paying off his debts.
He said since he was paying off debt he could not improve their
standard of living yet, but he was doing much, much better
financially.

96

Also, he and Teddy said they had a secret project
they wanted to surprise her with later. …Teddy’s father had
turned the corner on a life of stagnation and near poverty and
was on the rise.
Four of her students, however, had serious problems. Reggie
lived in poverty with minimal parental contact; Cathy lived in
constant tension with food as the outlet; Rico lived around the
criminal mind steeped in laziness. And, of course, Sally’s
situation was far from normal, knowing that at any time she could
lose her mother. Four of my twelve students have serious
burdens they carry around, she thought; and they’re just children!
She worried about their fragile existence. …She was not sure,
besides a smothering environment, to what degree Jeremiah’s
homelife was detrimental to a child.
She worked on her lectures that evening, glad she made the
visits to their homes.

97

————————
Chapter
Eight
————————

Miss Annabelle enjoyed the precious moments of watching
each of her students enter her room the day after the holidays.
She was glad to be back with her students. She was loaded with
lectures to start the second half of the school year.
One moment seemed to stand still. Cathy came through the
door. She was a good fifteen pounds lighter and was wearing
the cute jumper. Cathy shyly looked at her classmates, then at
her adoring teacher. Miss Annabelle silently mouthed the word,
“Wow!” Cathy smiled for the first time all school year. She
is a beautiful girl, Miss Annabelle thought.
Her celebration was cut short when she watched Sally come
in quietly, not smiling. Miss Annabelle went over and knelt
down by her, fearing that her mother’s condition took a turn for
the worse.
“Sally, how is everything at home?”
“My mom’s doing OK. But she told me that this Christmas
might have been our last one together.” Sally talked in a low
and controlled voice. Then she gasped and rushed her words,
in a high uncontrolled voice, “I just can’t go through Christmas
without my mom!”
Miss Annabelle hugged Sally and held her until Sally regained
control. Then Miss Annabelle told her, “I’m going to talk about
the value of your life today, darling. And I think it might help.
Okay?” Sally nodded.

98

“Boys and girls, I’m so happy to be back. Are you ready
for your most important lecture so far this school year?”
“Yes!” they cheered. Ian scooted to the edge of his seat,
which he did when he was especially excited about a lecture.
Sally’s eyes looked like two black holes ready to pull in all the
hope that came from Miss Annabelle’s lecture. Rico looked neat
and studious and attentive, quite a metamorphosis from the
unkempt appearance when he started the year. Cathy,
surprisingly, no longer sat in the back; she sat at a desk close
to the front of the room; she’s becoming beautiful, Miss
Annabelle thought. Teddy closed the book he had been reading
and looked charged up and ready to go. Miss Annabelle noticed
he was reading a book on Henry Ford.
What a group, Miss Annabelle thought as she took a moment
to admire the nine-year-olds. They’re still pure and honest, she
thought. I mustn’t hold anything back…not anything. So, here
goes…
“So often have I heard, murmured in a voice of hopelessness,
‘Everyone dies.’ How many of you have heard that haunting
comment?” About half the kids raised their hands in
acknowledgment.
“I’m here today to tell you that human dying is completely
unnatural. It is wrong. And it must be stopped.”
Sally gasped. Miss Annabelle had just encapsulated every
feeling and thought that permeated the little girl’s soul since
learning about her mom’s illness.
“Instead of just accepting that we die, let’s turn it around
and ask, ‘Why do we die in the first place?’ The answer sheds
light on just how bizarre human dying really is.
“So, children, why do we die?”
Ian thought furiously. “I know!” he shouted.
“Yes, Ian?”
“Well, I’m convinced there’s no God or other gossipy rumor
like that ruling the cosmos. I think it’s people like us who have
been around a lot longer than us. So, I don’t believe we die to
go to heaven or anything.”
“You’re a very smart young man,” Miss Annabelle said. “So,
why do you think we die?”

99

“Evolution,” he said, content with his one-word answer. But
when the rest of the kids looked confused, he added, “You know,
Darwin’s Natural Selection…propagation of the species. Every
living thing dies to allow the species to evolve and get stronger.”
He really is smart, Miss Annabelle kept thinking. Then she
said, “You’re absolutely right, Ian. Mother Nature included aging
and death as her mechanism to make the species progress. But
let me ask you, Ian, how long do you think it would take for a
major positive change to occur through evolution?”
“Thousands of years,” Ian answered.
“Now I’ll ask you, class, how long does it take mankind to
make major positive changes?”
“They happen all the time,” Teddy said. “Every day my dad
tells me something exciting that he’s read in the paper or
magazine.”
“Oh yeah,” Alan added. “You should see some of the new
technologies I read about in my magazine.”
“Every day,” Miss Annabelle echoed. “Mankind progresses
infinitely faster than Mother Nature. The original purpose for
dying no longer applies to humans.”
Miss Annabelle looked around her classroom in amazement.
All twelve eight and nine-year-olds were watching her every
gesture. Not one set of eyes was drowsy. The kids were
thinking hard, and Miss Annabelle decided not to say anything
at this point. She was curious who would be the first to ask
her a question and what the question would be.
Sally asked the first question, “Doesn’t that make aging a
fatal disease to humans, just like cancer? I mean, aging kills
us, and we don’t need to die.”
What fascinated Miss Annabelle was the speed at which Sally
had absorbed and fully integrated Miss Annabelle’s concept that
death is unnatural to humans. Sally had already seen the logic
and was using that concept to build further concepts. Adults,
on the other hand, would have to wrestle with the idea of
obsoleting death for their entire lifetimes and still not see the
logic. Sally, however, saw the logic, snapped it into place, and
immediately started building upon it.

100

“I’d call aging nothing other than a fatal disease, too, Sally,”
the eloquent teacher agreed. “And it’s man’s moral duty to cure
and eradicate humanity’s harmful diseases. It’s man’s moral duty
to cure and eradicate human aging and death.”
“Why can’t that be done?” Sally asked innocently. Obviously,
she had wondered the same thing about her mother’s cancer.
“Let’s back up and ask, why can’t we cure other fatal diseases
that are much more simple than curing human aging?” Miss
Annabelle looked across the room, then added, “Let me give you
a clue: the computer industry versus the medical industry.”
The class was silent. Teddy, who had recently read an article
about the developing computers, slowly raised his hand.
“Computers are getting cheaper; medical care is getting more
expensive?” he said. He looked unsure.
“Yes, Teddy!” Miss Annabelle said. “And there’s a reason
for that. The computer industry advances very rapidly at cheaper
and cheaper costs because it’s mostly unregulated. The medical
industry is heavily regulated by the FDA and advances slowly
at huge costs. Those prohibitive costs cut out the millions of
small entrepreneurs working out of their garages, like what’s
starting to happen in the computer industry. Great computer
dynamics are rising from the ‘garage entrepreneurs’. If the
medical industry were self-regulated like computers and not held
down by the FDA, then rapid progress by both the ‘garage
entrepreneurs’ and the huge drug companies would quickly
eradicate most fatal diseases, and eventually aging and death.”
“You mean, without the FDA, then fatal diseases like cancer
would quickly be cured?” Sally asked. Then, she grimaced.
“Yes, darling,” Miss Annabelle answered. She could feel
Sally’s pain.
The room was quiet for several seconds as the kids, who had
already snapped the logic into their minds, tried to comprehend
why the FDA was allowed to exist. Then Sally broke the silence.
“They’re murderers…right?” she asked angrily.
“Yes, they are,” Miss Annabelle answered. She knew this
would get her in trouble with the school board. She already
knew the God discussion before the holidays would get her in
trouble. But she knew today’s talk was the necessary puzzle
piece on which to build the rest of the year’s lectures.

101

After her vision on Christmas Day of the beautiful future world and
the puzzle-picture that would bring these children into that
beautiful world, she knew the key puzzle piece was this lecture
to integrate them with the infinite value of their own lives. To
successfully do this, Miss Annabelle could not hold anything
back, including the destruction caused by politicians and
regulatory bureaucrats, no matter what the consequences.
“They’re murdering my mom?” Sally continued.
“Yes, they are, darling,” Miss Annabelle answered. Her heart
was hurting for Sally, who had tears welling up in her eyes.
“Around Thanksgiving, I asked who in here wanted to
someday find cures to fatal diseases like cancer. All of you
raised your hands. I want you to remember to look through to
the essence of what you’re doing in life — in this case, saving
lives. If there are obstacles that block you here in America
because of certain people in the FDA or Congress who want to
rule over the medical or drug industry, then you take your life’s
work and move to a country where you can continue. If that
were being done today, then Sally’s mom would not be dying.”
Sally started crying, and Miss Annabelle walked over to
comfort her.
“The value of human life is immeasurable. If we have to
go against what bureaucrats deem ‘legal research’ in order to save
human life, then we are morally free to break the law or to go
around it.”
Miss Annabelle stopped to hug Sally. The class was stunned.
No adult had ever told them to break the law. But the children
were deeply moved. Miss Annabelle talked to them at a level
they had never known — the level of fully integrated honesty.
She went beyond “truth” or “legality”. And, having matured
decades during the past quarter hour, the children felt the
responsibility of this level of communication.
“The value of human life is…it is everything. There is
nothing more valuable in the Universe. As we talked about
before the holidays, we are the Gods of the Universe. The value
of each one of your lives is infinite — it is the value of God.
In the world with no matrix of illusions, people never die. Like
Gods, each of you and your loved ones should live eternally. I
want you to start thinking about your right, as an infinitely
valuable human being, as a God-Man, to never die. Dying is
bizarre. It is unnatural.”

102

Miss Annabelle stopped there. The infinite value of life was
now seeded in her students. She knew that seed would grow
and the children would grow up with a whole different
perspective about human life. She also knew they would now
forever scorn anything harmful…from the FDA to cigarettes or
drugs. They would take no foolish chances with life such as
riding in cars driven by reckless drivers or with someone who
has been drinking alcohol.
The longer they live, she thought, the greater their chances
of making it to the future world where people don’t die anymore.
Still standing next to Sally, Miss Annabelle looked down and
put her hand on the little girl’s head and patted it gently, and
said, “The extraordinary value of our lives is why we must go
on and live life to the fullest, even after we lose a loved one.”
“But, Miss Annabelle, if there’s no God, then there’s no
Heaven, and I’ll never see my mom again!”
Miss Annabelle was not surprised by Sally’s comment and
said, “Maybe we don’t need to believe in God and Heaven
anymore. Maybe there’s something better — something real.”
Sally’s deep brown eyes, which were scared and puzzled,
relaxed a little and became hopeful as she looked up at her
teacher.
“Let me tell you a little story first, a true story, then I’ll
explain why something even better than God and Heaven and
something real may await your mother.”
All the children were now sitting on the edge of their seats
and leaning forward like a bed of flowers growing toward their
precious sun. Miss Annabelle had their attention, and she would
nourish their minds. Whether she was right or wrong with what
she was about to say, she knew their minds would forever grow
free of status quo and traditional thinking. She was about to
give them the gift to break outside of boundaries to explore
powerful new thoughts.
“During your history lessons, I’ve lectured about World War
II and the Holocaust. Millions of innocent people died on the
battlefields and in the concentration camps. There was a wealthy
German businessman named Oskar Schindler who acquired as
many Jews as he could to work in his factories in order to keep
them out of the concentration camps and save their lives.

103

“Schindler was a producer of values, an entrepreneurial
businessman. As such, he valued values. He, and others like
him, could not let the ultimate value — human life — perish.
…Could you?”
Sally and the rest of the class shook their heads right away.
They were following Miss Annabelle’s monologue word for word.
“You are the future value producers. Value producers would
do everything possible to never let the supreme value — human
life — perish.” Miss Annabelle noticed Teddy look away, as
though his mind had just taken off and raced ahead of Miss
Annabelle’s speech. She gave him a moment, then asked him,
“Teddy, I just saw a light go on in your eyes. Can you shed
some of that light on us?”
Several children smiled and looked at him. He lifted his eyes
and brushed back his thick brown hair, and calmly said,
“Everyone out there is a value producer. Remember what you
said? To survive beyond their nuclear power that could wipe
out civilization, everyone would have to become a value producer.
So, they’re all value producers out there.” …Teddy was referring
to the lecture just before the holidays that suggested that
advanced humanlike consciousness controlled the cosmos. The
logic was scientifically solid, and these children interlocked solid
logic into their brains in a matter of minutes, whereas adults
might take months or years…if ever.
Ian’s eyes were now sparkling. He turned his chair around
to face Teddy. Sally turned too, blinking her soft brown eyes
more frequently with all the excitement in the air.
“And those value producers have been there for millions or
billions of years,” Miss Annabelle prompted. “Think of the
technology they would have created in all that time.”
Like a levee holding back tons of water, Ian burst: “They
would have learned how to keep people from aging and dying!”
“Very quickly,” Miss Annabelle added. “Even right here on
Earth, we’re but a few years away from some early stages of
averting death, particularly if the medical industry could progress
without the FDA. We’ve had our modern, conscious minds for
only a few thousand years, and we’re close to outsmarting death
itself once we experience unhampered, advancing technologies.

104

What about modern minds that have been around for millions
or billions of years? We have to ask ourselves, what levels of
advanced technologies have they reached?
“Of course, we have no way of knowing their technologies,
but there is one thing we can know for sure. Does anyone want
to venture what that one thing is?” Miss Annabelle looked
around the room. From behind her came a voice so confident,
it sounded almost omnipotent:
“They would not let anyone perish…not even my mom,” Sally
said.
Miss Annabelle’s heart skipped a beat. She twirled around
and locked eyes with Sally.
“How could they?” the teacher happily cried out. “Just as
Oskar Schindler could not let the helpless, innocent Jews perish,
how could those Gods of the Universe let your helpless, innocent
mother perish?”
Sally rose from her chair as though she were pulled from
above. She knew now that some technology existed that saved
our consciousness after our bodies died. She started walking
toward her teacher, then she ran to her and jumped into her
receiving arms. “Oh, Miss Annabelle,” she cried as euphoria
filled her, “mommy’s going to be OK…my mommy’s going to
be OK!”

105

————————
Chapter
Nine
————————

The second week into the new year, Miss Annabelle was
summoned to the principal’s office. The contents in the sealed
envelope centered on her desk when she came in early that
morning was no mystery. In fact, she had been expecting it ever
since her lecture that challenged the existence of God, and
especially since her lecture that challenged the authority of the
government.
There it is, she thought, as she removed her camel colored
coat that reflected the subtle blonde highlights in her auburn hair.
There it is.

*

The first thing Jessie noticed when Miss Annabelle told him
about the summons on her way out that afternoon, was how
different she seemed than the first time. She appeared neither
scared of the confrontation nor overly anxious that she might lose
her teaching position before the school year was over. Quite
worried himself, he asked her how she felt so calm.
“Because now I know my kids can’t be fooled,” she said,
smiling. Then she turned very serious, “I’m not afraid of those
vengeful adults making me look like some kind of monster. My
students will pierce right through that illusion, and that thought
is very comforting.”

106

“If last time was any indication, they are going to try to make
you out to be a monster,” Jessie said, shaking his head.
“Oh, I know. Just listen to this,” she said, pulling the
summons from her purse and reading it: “The Duncan Elementary
School Board will hold an emergency meeting this Thursday, 7:30
p.m., to investigate the recent actions of Miss Annabelle Barclays,
a Duncan Elementary School, Third Grade teacher. Agenda of
topics: 1) teaching hatred toward government, 2) teaching hatred
toward God.”
“Yeah, they’re going to do their best to make you look like
a hatemonger, all right,” Jessie said. Then he grimaced and
added, “After the Burke-induced episode, why do they still go
after you, anyway?”
“Because I threaten their world, Jessie. A year ago, I broke
free from that world of illusions. As I told you and Angie, one
day I saw through illusions not just within my marriage, but
everywhere. Most adults still live in that stagnant world of
illusions. Some, the leaders like Hammerschmidt, live off of the
matrix of illusions. I’m going to end that matrix of illusions,
so I threaten his livelihood.”
“You threaten his smug world,” Jessie said, fully relating to
her explanation. Jessie and Angie were outsiders. They lived
through very hard times and lived outside the Establishment’s
influences. They never got caught up in the world of illusions.
They were deeply honest people who got into each other and
were happy together in their own world. Therefore, they were
the only adults Miss Annabelle knew who were able to honestly
appreciate Miss Annabelle’s work and like her as a friend.
The students’ parents, on the other hand, faced a paradox.
They were very impressed by their children’s new love for school
and for their families. The parents were just as impressed by
their children’s academic achievements, which went noticeably
up two grades in most cases. And their children seemed so
happy all week long. That was quite a smooth-sailing boat to
now have to rock.

107

For, unbeknownst to Miss Annabelle, the school board sent
its summons for the emergency meeting to the parents of Miss
Annabelle’s students. Upon reading that summons, the idea of
Miss Annabelle spreading hate was planted in the parents’ minds
and started growing into uneasiness and concern. Several parents
went back to their tapes and listened to the last couple of months
of general lectures. Some of the parents started worrying, and
some of them started calling each other to ask if Miss Annabelle
seemed a little bit weird.

*

During her science lecture on Wednesday, Miss Annabelle
noticed that Cathy seemed unusually distracted. She fidgeted
continuously in her chair. Finally, Miss Annabelle asked Cathy
if everything was OK.
“I think so,” the trimmed-down little girl said. She talked
louder and with more confidence than the previous semester. “I
just want to come to that special meeting about you.”
“Me too!” four or five other kids added.
Miss Annabelle had to sit down on the corner of her desk.
I’ll be damned, she thought. They notified the parents, too. For
a moment, her thoughts were trapped in a state of shock.
“Are you OK, Miss Annabelle?” Cathy asked, reviving her
teacher from her shock.
“Yes…yes, I’m quite all right,” Miss Annabelle answered,
feigning normalcy. Miss Annabelle remained seated on her desk
and witnessed a half dozen or so children asking each other what
meeting was Cathy talking about. As the teacher let the children
sort out that question, she began to realize that she did not have
to fear the confrontation. For, the two topics on the agenda
merely came about as a result of her piercing through illusions
to what is. As long as she continued to cut through illusions,
she would do fine. She remembered the accusations that
originated from Burke. Although a volatile situation back then,
she came through unscathed. Of course, that time no parents
were involved.
“Children,” she said to the class, “Cathy is referring to a
meeting this Thursday evening here at 7:30 in the evening. The
school board will be reviewing what I have been teaching you.
Some of them seem to be nervous about my recent talks with
you, especially about God and government.

108

Of course, you know that I’m cutting through the matrix of illusions in this world to show you what is. I’m also teaching you how to, on your own, use your minds to cut through the matrix of illusions to see what is. By doing this, you’ll gain the power of God-Man and the
motivation to build wonderful values for the world, someday.
You will not live trapped in boring, stagnant ruts like most of
our parents. You’ll instead live with power, growing riches, and
happiness. You’ll soar beyond the suppression and resignation
that results from God and government. By seeing what is, you’ll
become the God-Man and lead yourselves to greatness.”
The students only half understood, but they loved and trusted
their teacher. Although only nine years old, they increasingly
sensed that she was their life preserver who was holding up their
spirits and enthusiasm for life in the stormy sea of life into which
others sink…into its darkness.

*

When Miss Annabelle pulled into the school parking lot at
about twenty minutes past seven on Thursday evening, she was
surprised to see it nearly full. Is there a parent/teacher meeting
tonight for one of the other grades, she wondered, or maybe a
chess tournament?
She walked up the stairs and entered the front entrance to
Duncan Elementary School. She walked past the restrooms this
time, not needing to stop to calm herself down. In fact, she
was aware that she was surprisingly calm.
When she turned the corner to go to the lunch room, she saw
a small crowd standing outside the room.
There are the parents who showed up, she thought. But when
she walked toward them, she noticed they turned away from the
lunch room and walked away, down the hall away from her.
When she got to the lunch room, it was deserted. A sign taped
on one of the two doors to the room read:

SCHOOL-BOARD MEETING
MOVED TO THE GYM

109

That’s peculiar, Miss Annabelle thought as she continued
down the corridor toward the gym. When she reached the gym,
she peeked through the small oblong window on the closed door.
She did not expect the sight before her: sitting on beige folding
chairs were about forty people, facing her from across the gym.
Miss Annabelle immediately recognized her students…all twelve
came here to support her, she realized. Of course, most parents
were there, too. Obviously, they were concerned by the idea
of “spreading hate”. The chairs were lined up about ten across,
four rows deep. Miss Annabelle took a deep breath, then entered.
Twelve little hands instantly started waving at her. Twelve
little faces broke into endearing smiles. Miss Annabelle imagined
what battles these children must have gone through to convince
their parents to bring them here, too. The sight of the children
warmed the teacher’s heart.
The fuel Miss Annabelle got from Jessie and Angie in her
first emergency meeting with the school board now came from
her twelve little soul mates. “Hi children,” she said as she
walked toward the center of the gym where an empty chair
awaited her.
“Hi, Miss Annabelle,” they said in harmony.
“Thank you all for coming. I can feel your love and support.
Thank you,” she said so sweetly that, for a moment, everyone
present had to ask themselves why they were here.
The stocky Mr. Hammerschmidt, superintendent of the school
district, politely asked Miss Annabelle to take her seat and
gestured to the lone empty chair that sat perpendicular to her
students and faced a smaller group of nine chairs lined up behind
three oblong lunch tables where the school board and principal
were to sit. About half of those chairs were occupied. They
were now waiting for the rest to show.
As Miss Annabelle sat down, she noticed Jessie and Angie
come into the gym. They smiled at her comfortingly. Jessie
picked up two more folding chairs from the corner of the gym
and placed them alongside the audience section, where Miss
Annabelle could see them.
At 7:45, the last school board member walked in, and the
emergency meeting began:
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Hammerschmidt began.

110

“I’m a bit surprised to see all these children at this
emergency meeting. May the parents be aware that we will cover
two sensitive topics here that may not be appropriate for children.
Therefore, I’ve called in Mrs. Shaffer, a substitute teacher here,
to watch your children in the classroom next door while we
conduct this sensitive meeting.” The children’s mouths dropped
in dissapointment…after what they had gone through to be here!
Mr. Hammerschmidt looked directly at the parents and paused.
He was obviously uneasy about the children. But, to his surprise,
the parents were not. They seemed to have accepted Miss
Annabelle’s candid relationship with their children. They seemed
to realize that, because of her, their children were no longer at
the maturity level of children. The parents had been listening
to several of Miss Annabelle’s lectures on tape. Although she
was different, they admired her. Furthermore, they deeply
appreciated what she had done for their children. …And, deep
within each parent was a child of the past full of wonder and
motivation who begged to be free again. Free of what? Free
of the matrix of illusions. At their subconscious level, Miss
Annabelle was a bridge back to their childhood before they had
lost their potential in life to resignation. Miss Annabelle
represented a way out of the matrix and back to their natural,
deep motivational drives. Of course, all those hopes were on a
subconscious level.
The superintendent pressed on with a hard stare at the parents
and, after a tense moment, he said, louder this time, “Parents,
are you going to do the decent thing and remove these children?
Mrs. Shaffer is waiting.” He gestured to the substitute teacher
standing by the door. To the surprise of every school board
member, the parents either defiantly shook their heads or sat in
stone silence.
Miss Annabelle’s heart beat faster. She loved the children
so deeply, and to see their parents respect the children’s needs
over someone’s authoritative voice filled Miss Annabelle with
hope. Tonight, she would learn something uplifting about adults,
something that she never realized before. Tonight, she would
learn about adults who have innocently succumbed to resignation,
but are good people without envy.

111

Such adults can someday make the journey back to recapture their deep motivational drive and the success and happiness that will come from it. …Could it be, she wondered, the children who will help their parents get back home to the real self before the matrix took over? Could it be the children who will save the adults?
Her provocative thought was broken. “Alright then,” Mr.
Hammerschmidt said. “Let’s get started.” He then looked at the
attractive, petite woman sitting about 15 feet directly before him.
“As you know, Miss Annabelle, my name is Mr. Hammerschmidt,
and I’m the superintendent of the school district.” He went on
to introduce the members of the school board. “Today we must
investigate two topics regarding you, Miss Annabelle: 1) your
attacks on government, and 2) your attacks on God in a
classroom of third graders. …So, let us begin. I have two basic
questions I will ask Miss Annabelle on behalf of the school,
students, and parents, and we will let her answer these questions.
“First question: I’m sure all parents here share this
troublesome concern as to why, Miss Annabelle, do you
encourage these children during your lectures to do illegal acts?”
Oh, what a spin doctor, Miss Annabelle said to herself. Then
she said out loud, “Mr. Hammerschmidt, I’ll gladly answer your
question.” The audience turned their eyes toward her. “But first,
I’ll clear up some false impressions you’ve managed to create.
I’ll do this in order to answer within the proper context.”
“Miss Annabelle, no one here is creating false impressions,”
Mr. Hammerschmidt snapped back defensively.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” the petite woman said,
holding her ground. Then, she surprised him by saying, “Aren’t
you running for lieutenant governor in November?”
“That has nothing to do with this,” he answered, obviously
ruffled and not able to fully cover up his hatred toward the pretty
woman directly before him. But about half the audience was
nodding. She was the very image of a woman he could never
approach in the real world, but he now had false power over
this competitive woman with beauty and brains. Of course, that
false power over competitive women and men was the impetus
behind this uncompetitive man’s aspirations to enter politics.
“As I said, I’ll start by clearing up two false impressions,”
Miss Annabelle said courageously, locking eyes with
Hammerschmidt. His eyes darted away, unable to handle the
direct confrontation.

112

“First, I don’t think that all these parents here shared a
troubled concern about my lectures,” she said as she turned her
head to look at the parents. Most were shaking their heads to
confirm Miss Annabelle’s statement, “…at least not until you
put the thought in their heads in the way that you did. That’s
a leveraging technique called: forced teaming.”
Suddenly the burly body before her, unable to take anymore,
moved his hand through the air to indicate he had enough and,
in a tantrum, he cried out, “That’s not true! Now answer the
question, why do you encourage these children to do illegal acts?”
Not the least bit intimidated, Miss Annabelle rolled on, “Well
now, that gets us to the second false impression. You ask me,
why do I encourage these children to do illegal acts? Mr.
Hammerschmidt, every parent would become alarmed if a teacher
were, as you put it, encouraging his or her child to do illegal
acts. You make me sound like a criminal ring leader. That’s
an effective impression, though, that would look good in the local
papers for a would-be politician: Hammerschmidt Hammers Out
Criminal-Minded 3rd-Grade Teacher.”
“Now wait a minute, missy,” he started to raise his voice but
caught himself.
“No, you wait a minute, sir,” Miss Annabelle said, sitting
straight up and then leaning forward in her chair. “I said I’ll
answer your questions, and I’m sure that would be helpful to
these good parents. But you stop your grandstanding, sir, or I’ll
take this whole thing to the press as an example of the
destruction that can be whipped up from illusions created by
agenda-minded, aspiring politicians.”
Overwhelmed by the little woman’s grit, Jessie shouted,
“Yeah!” as he and Angie started clapping, followed by the parents
and the children. Once again, Hammerschmidt had been beaten
and beaten badly by his nemesis.
“Now, to help alleviate genuine concerns for parents, it would
be unconscionable for me to encourage children to blatantly do
illegal acts. I do, however, teach your children to do what is
right.” Miss Annabelle turned her chair and body toward the
parents, talking directly to them and their children. Neither
Hammerschmidt nor the school board was important any longer.

113

The parents and children could feel Miss Annabelle’s genuine,
heartfelt words.
“To teach your children to do what is right requires teaching
them to have a mind of their own. They must learn to think
for themselves and NOT to rely on others telling them what is
right or wrong, including politicians, which I’m sure we agree
on. The scribe of history has shown us that prosperity, freedom,
and happiness depended on people using their own minds, at
times questioning or challenging the world and laws around them.
“I invite everyone to listen to the lecture in question, which
I have on tape. Just let me know, and I’ll be happy to make
you each a copy.”
“So, you’re promoting vigilantism,” Hammerschmidt said
slyly.
Rotating herself forward to face her accuser, Miss Annabelle
said, “You, sir, are lost in your political world, desperately
formulating your out-of-context attacks in order to make someone
a villain and yourself the rescuer — the hero. But I’m not here
to please your world of appearances or the politicians’ world of
illusions. I’m here to teach these children’s minds to work for
themselves. If something is wrongfully illegal, then they can
know it and, if necessary, do the right thing. Let’s ask the
parents, do you want your children to someday be self-thinking
adults or a flock of sheep?”
Since the meeting began, the principal Ms. Minner had been
looking for an opportunity to fire a shot at Miss Annabelle. At
this moment the eerie woman, who was much younger than she
looked, shouted in her enthusiasm, “What about calling politicians
wife beaters — isn’t that spreading hate against our government?
Your students might grow up to be Lee Harvey Oswalds.”
Miss Annabelle could not believe what she had just heard.
But she knew the principal’s technique of using emotionally
charged non sequiturs was very effective. And she knew she
must deal with the non sequitur before answering the question.
“The word non sequitur,” Miss Annabelle began, “is Latin
and means ‘it does not follow’. It does not follow that my
lecture articulating the problem with politicians, which I’ll address
in a moment, leads children into murderous acts. The criminal
mind is dominated by the belief that ‘others owe me a living’.

114

My lecture, teaching children to always question the status quo,
to always use their own minds in order to build important values
for the human race, is certainly moving in the opposite direction
of the criminal mind.
“Perhaps the biggest force moving children toward the
criminal mind is the huge welfare class created by the
government, moving welfare families into the mentality that they
are owed a living.”
Reggie’s mother clapped her hands and called out, as one
does in a prayer meeting, “Amen!” Miss Annabelle looked over
at her, and they nodded to each other. Then the teacher looked
back to the principal and continued: “I’m teaching these children
to someday build great values for the world and a great life for
themselves. For example, the lecture in question, I was
encouraging these children to someday develop cures to life
threatening diseases, such as cancer. The comments I made
against the government referred to those politically ambitious
bureaucrats and politicians with vote-gathering, ego-gathering
agendas that block lifesaving progress. For example, everyone
knows that the FDA retards, even prevents progress on lifesaving
drugs. Now, when a close loved one is dying from a disease
like cancer, and some politically ambitious bureaucrat is retarding
or killing progress through his portfolio-building political agenda,
that makes such a bureaucrat not human. When you realize that
people like that are why Sally will lose her mother, that makes
them worse than wife beaters. That makes them murderers.”
Miss Annabelle’s voice broke, obviously emotionally moved.
Sally and her mother hugged each other as the other mothers
looked at them and felt great compassion. Sally’s mother and
Miss Annabelle’s eyes met. Sally’s mother let go of Sally, sat
up straight, and began to clap. Her clapping was slow and
meaningful. She looked deep into Miss Annabelle’s eyes as she
stood up and continued her ovation. Jessie and Angie stood up
and joined her. The other mothers joined them. Sally and all
the children sprang out of their seats, smiling and clapping fast.
Then, the dads joined the standing ovation.
What is happening here? Miss Annabelle wondered. Those
adults are really behind me and my educational ideas that
challenge the Establishment.

115

Her face grew full of wonder as she looked at the applauding
parents and children. Her eyes moved from Sally’s mom to
Sally, then across the row, making contact with each adult and
child. When her eyes met the last person on her far right,
Teddy’s father, Mr. Winters, she knew. As she looked at his
innocent face, she saw something different than before. She saw
a small fire of hope still kindling as he looked back at her.
These adults are innocent people caught in the matrix of
illusions, she thought to herself, genuinely amazed at this
discovery. The child of the past still lives somewhere deep
within them, and perhaps I offer them hope. They’re completely
different than the dishonest adults who’ve killed that child of the
past. That child within Teddy’s dad, she thought while still
looking into his eyes, strives to live the way man was meant to
live. He still wants to make a difference in this world; he still
wants to build magnificent values for society and extraordinary
happiness, success, and wealth for himself.
Miss Annabelle could not identify what she was feeling at
that moment while realizing those adults were behind her. She
felt goosebumps running up her back and down her arms as she
suddenly realized she was feeling hope, too…hope for the future,
for the new world. She looked for what seemed like a long time
at the parents and children, and they at her; they were like
mirrors reflecting her deepest emotion of hope back to her. …If
not for the change in these children, she thought, I don’t think
I’d see this hope in these parents’ eyes. What does that mean?
In the meantime, the school board was in a quandary. Miss
Annabelle had just gotten a standing ovation from the parents.
The school board superintendent wondered, what do I do now?
Do I call the end to this meeting…or is there still a way to save
the school from this awful threat? …Even after the parents’
confirmation of approval for Miss Annabelle, the politically
ambitious school board president searched for ways to attack and
perhaps destroy this value in hopes to add to his portfolio of
“accomplishments”. He knew that he really could become,
through the voice of the media, the hero who rescued the school
from an awful villain. So he pressed on…

116

“Thank you parents for your enthusiasm,” he said with
feigned sincerity, “but we must now consider something together
on a more spiritual realm. I know we are all good God-fearing
people…all of us but one person here.” His roundish head rolled
from the parents toward Miss Annabelle. To emphasize his point,
he looked at her with exaggerated scorn. “It seems you parents
have an atheist teaching your kids to abandon their faith in God.”
Miss Annabelle knew this would be a tough subject to discuss
with adults, even the innocent ones. The God concept was just
too embedded in their thinking from childhood. But she was
prepared…
“I believe in a creator, and I believe in God,” Miss Annabelle
said confidently.
“Not according to your lecture last November,” the principal
squealed.
“Oh yes I do,” Miss Annabelle said without yielding, “only
I believe in a creator or God that is closer to our own
consciousness. Ms. Minner, listen to my lecture again, and you’ll
agree.
“And remember, Ms. Minner, different religions have different
beliefs and different Gods to worship. I’m no different. My
God rises from a scientific hypothesis. However, anyone who
goes back and listens again to my lecture last November will
see that I wasn’t pushing a belief upon the children, rather I was
teaching the children how to use their own minds and not follow
blindly. My dialogue with Ian during that lecture was a powerful
example on how to use logic to challenge tradition and, perhaps,
dispel illusions that surround us.”
The arrogant school-board leader blurted, “So is that what you
think of God — as some illusion?”
“No, I believe God is very real,” Miss Annabelle said calmly,
“But let me ask you this: If my God is different from your God,
and your God is different from a Japanese man’s God, and his
God is different from an Arab man’s God…then which Gods are
the illusions?”
“Are you saying your God is real and mine is not?” Mr.
Hammerschmidt said, not looking very bright.
“That’s not the point,” Miss Annabelle said, obviously more
intellectually endowed than the wannabe politician before her.

117

“The point is that children’s minds must be shown how to
challenge another person’s ideas in order to become strong
enough to form their own thought-through ideas. Too many
children grow up just adopting the belief system given to them
by society. But I believe children must be equipped with the
ability to challenge and think through any belief system instead
of just blindly accepting it. These children challenging your
personal belief system, Mr. Hammerschmidt, is not a bad thing.”
That last comment moved through the room like an emotional
tidal wave, for the parents did not like the arrogant bully. No,
they did not want his beliefs pushed on their children. Jessie
and Angie had to control themselves from laughing.
“And I don’t push my personal beliefs on those children,”
Miss Annabelle added. “Instead, I teach them how to use their
minds to develop their own beliefs.”
“And when do you teach them all that? We have a
curriculum here teachers must follow, you know.”
“And I do. In fact, we’ll be done with the curriculum by
Valentine’s Day. Remember, I told you I use the lecture method.
My kids not only will have completed the curriculum, they are,
if you’d notice, getting all A’s.”
“Amen,” Jeremiah’s mother called out. “My boy never took
home A’s before. …Does she believe in Jesus Christ our
Savior?”
“I do believe in Jesus Christ. He’s the only true Christian,”
Miss Annabelle answered.
“Amen to that!” Jeremiah’s mother cried out. “That’s all that
matters,” she added, looking at Mr. Hammerschmidt.
Frustrated, with nothing left to say, Mr. Hammerschmidt asked
point blank, “Do you or do you not believe in God?”
Miss Annabelle answered calmly, “Yes, I do believe in God.
As I said before, my God is not the same as your God.”
“Tell me about your God,” he said sarcastically.
“My God is called Zon.” Her students looked at her
curiously. They had never heard that word before. “Zon is the
creator of the Universe. He rises from very advanced
consciousness called God-Man. However, as I said, I do not
push my God on my students. But I will engage in a flow of
logic, as I did in my lecture last November.”
Miss Annabelle was purposefully avoiding a philosophical
discussion on the 2000-year manipulative use of guilt by
Christianity.

118

Such a discussion would be counter productive. So
she kept her answers light, sticking only on the point of not
pushing her beliefs on her students. The parents were a bit
confused by Miss Annabelle’s sort of New Age sounding spiritual
preference, but they also felt her spiritual leanings were harmless.
What impressed the parents was her dogged determination to
teach their children how to use their own minds. The parents
liked that, and they were not about to let the school-board
superintendent have his way with her.
“May I make a suggestion?” Teddy’s father injected fearlessly,
directing his powerful workingman’s voice at Mr.
Hammerschmidt. The protocol of school-board meetings normally
would not allow for outside comments like this, but Mr.
Hammerschmidt was up against the wall. He knew he could not
afford to make any enemies among the parents.
“Sure,” he said, surprising the rest of the school board
members.
“Let’s call it a night,” Mr. Winters said with an air of finality.
He stood up and added, “I want this woman to teach my son,
and I’d probably look into some kind of class-action lawsuit
along with the other like-minded parents here if you pulled any
shenanigans to get her fired.”
Like a daytime talk show, the audience clapped immediately.
Miss Annabelle sat in stunned silence, her mind processing this
new data that innocent adults exist who are still searching for
honesty. She was pleased by the parents’ reaction; she was
ecstatic about her discovery of the innocent adult.
Mr. Hammerschmidt felt rage rising within. But like a
smooth politician, he simply smiled and said, “Ladies and
gentlemen, if you feel comfortable with the job Miss Annabelle
is performing for your kids, then the school board sees no reason
to take any further action.” Then, turning his head to his right,
he said to his fellow members, “All in favor of taking no further
action, say ‘Aye’.” The school board members, some reluctantly,
said, “Aye.”

119

That night Miss Annabelle reflected on the progress of her
grand puzzle for the children. I’m behind schedule, she confessed
to herself. But now that I have the support and trust of the
parents, I can snap together the puzzle-picture of the new world
and its supreme value of human life more quickly, starting
tomorrow.
She felt overwhelming relief as she thought over this
evening’s meeting at the gym.

120

————————
Chapter
Ten
————————

Miss Annabelle noticed exciting changes occurring in her
classroom. One by one, her students were becoming self-perpetuating puzzle builders of knowledge. That meant, at just
nine years of age, they were already evolving into the new
mentality, Neothink! This new mentality belonged to the next
evolution of man, to the God-Man.
Three of her nine-year-olds, in particular, showed signs of
this new mentality. Ted, Sally, and Ian could see through
appearances to the essence of things so clearly now they regularly
formed unique and powerful insights. As their often startling
insights grew in numbers, the three little God-Men began spotting
common denominators and snapping their unique insights together
into powerful, expanding puzzles of new knowledge.
Miss Annabelle had never before felt such euphoria as on the
three separate occasions she knew for sure that each of these
three nine-year olds was building, through Neothink, a neverbefore-seen puzzle-picture of new knowledge. She sat at her desk
one morning, studying the three wonders. She silently
prophesied: with this new Neothink mentality, these three children
will someday catapult civilization as dramatically as their
forerunners Nicolaus Copernicus, Henry Ford, and Alexander
Fleming.

121

The first of the three nine-year olds to show signs of the
Neothink mentality was Teddy Winters. A few months before,
Miss Annabelle had talked to his father. She knew their family
had been financially strapped, and she worried about Teddy who
would come to school in the snow with old sneakers, his socks
showing through the worn-and-torn holes.
But for the past few weeks, Miss Annabelle had noticed a
steady improvement in Teddy’s clothes, culminating this week
with expensive new black leather shoes, new black slacks and
black leather belt and expensive new brown leather shoes, new
brown slacks and brown leather belt.
“How’s your father doing?” Miss Annabelle asked him one
morning before class.
“He’s doing great. He’s been promoted three times and is
now a manager,” Teddy said proudly. “He says that in his
previous seven years he wasn’t promoted once. But now that
he sees through to the essence of things and uses what we call
a mini-day schedule with power-thinking, he’s becoming very
valuable at work.”
Miss Annabelle felt relieved. She would no longer have to
worry about Teddy’s monetary well-being. “I guess that’s why
you’ve been looking so debonair lately in your new clothes.”
“Oh, actually I’m buying these new clothes with my own
profits,” he said, trying to hold back a smile.
Miss Annabelle knew that your basic morning paper route
could not generate the money to buy the shoes, slacks, and belts
he wore that week and the new three-speed bicycle he rode to
school that morning. She had thought his father was spoiling
Teddy a little after a long period of hardship. But she was in
for a surprise.
“I started my own business a few days after you and my dad
talked that one night when we were playing football,” Teddy said,
with his mouth now hopelessly locked in a proud smile.
“What?” Miss Annabelle exclaimed, her eyes wide with
surprise and excitement.

122

Teddy laughed. “It’s true, I started selling two products doorto-door. I got so good at selling them, my dad would drive me
to different neighborhoods and pick me up before dark. Then I
ran out of neighborhoods, and at this point I would have gone
out of business. But I came up with a plan.” Teddy stopped
when he noticed about a half dozen classmates had come in and
were standing behind him, fascinated with his enterprising story.
“Teddy, you’re amazing. I have got to hear everything…if
you’re willing to tell me,” Miss Annabelle said.
“Oh, sure,” Teddy said full of pride.
“Can we hear, too?” Cathy asked while smiling dreamily at
Teddy.
“Sure,” Teddy said.
“Great!” Miss Annabelle said. “Everyone please take your
seats…except for Teddy. He’s going to tell us how he’s making
lots of money by providing lots of values to others!”
“Alright!” someone yelled. The children scurried to their
desks and pivoted into their seats. The excitement in the air
was thick, like an arena before a championship prize fight. Miss
Annabelle noticed the children’s spontaneous response, and she
thought: business, feeling your power to make a difference in
this world providing values to others, all while making money,
pride, and happiness for oneself, is the natural state of conscious
man…just look at these kids’ enthusiasm. Their faces looked to
the front like they were about to be entertained by a Disney
movie.
“Class, I’ve asked Teddy if he would share with us his road
to success. Teddy has become a successful businessman, and
he’s going to tell us how he’s done it.” Miss Annabelle then
turned the floor over to the nine-year-old entrepreneur and sat
down at her desk. When she looked at Teddy, she could not
help thinking what a shy little boy he used to be, yet now he
seemed like a powerful little man.
“A few months ago, I was looking through my dad’s
magazines. One of them was showing lots of different things
people can sell to make money. I wanted to start making money,
so I studied the magazine…there were so many products that
could be sold.

123

“So I started thinking of our town and what everyone might
want to buy. And I came up with a common denominator: just
about every adult I knew, from my mom and dad to my friends’
parents, seemed to be always concerned about their kids’ safety.
So, I looked through the magazine again to pick something that
offered safety, and I picked inexpensive smoke alarms that stick
to the ceiling and warn you if there’s a fire in your house,
especially when you’re sleeping.
“At first it was hard for me to sell the smoke alarms.
Everyone seemed to start closing their doors before I started
telling them about the alarms. It was really embarrassing. I
got stressed out and thought about quitting.
“But before I quit, I remembered Miss Annabelle telling my
dad, when he was down and out, to pierce through to the essence
of things, right in your job. And that was the start of my
success.
“You see, on the surface I was selling smoke alarms and was
just another salesman at their door. But going to the essence,
I was selling them their own lives and their loved ones’ lives,
which no other salesman could do. Realizing the essence of the
value I offered, everything changed. I started selling, and selling
fast. At first I played a little game with myself to see how many
words it took me before a person would take a serious interest
in what I was selling.”
Cathy’s hand went up. “How many words does it take you
now?” she asked him.
Teddy turned somber and said, “Zero.”
“How do you do that?” Danny asked.
“Here, I’ll show you,” Teddy said. He pulled a neatly folded
magazine picture from his pocket. He unfolded it and held it
up for the class to see. The two students closest to Teddy in
the front row gasped when they made out what the picture was
showing: two beautiful little girls ages five and three and their
one-year-old baby brother, three little darlings sleeping peacefully
in their beds and crib, or so it seemed; the caption read: Siblings
Die In Sleep From Smoke Asphyxiation. Teddy’s classmates
wanted him to pass the picture around to take a closer look.
“I get really sad when I look at that picture,” he said. “When
people open their doors, I show them this photo. The unspoken
message brings them immediately to the essence of why I am
there: I plead with them, ‘Never let this happen to you or your
loved ones.’ It makes me feel good to know that I’m stopping
this from ever happening to my customers.

124

“I’m selling smoke alarms so fast I can’t get them fast enough
from the manufacturer. My success came because I cut through
surface perceptions to the essence of my business — the value
of life.
“I realized I bring my customers a value that taps into a
common denominator among all people — the value of their
lives. I believe in my product. I believe in saving lives.
“I started selling so many that I called the president of the
manufacturing company. He was able to knock down my
wholesale purchase price by nearly two thirds, which meant I
was now really starting to make money!”
“How much did you make?” Danny blurted. He forgot to
raise his hand first.
“Oh, in just twelve days I was able to buy the go-cart I had
always dreamed of driving! Before starting this, I always thought
I’d grow up and never once ride that go-cart. That go-cart was
everything I wanted to get from working, but now I have only
just begun. I’m figuring out bigger and bigger ways to grow
my business.”
Miss Annabelle’s heart jumped with Teddy’s last comment
that he was “figuring out bigger and bigger ways to grow my
business.” With that comment, she knew he was discovering
integrated thinking and was snapping together a success puzzle.
As her heart pounded with joy, she contained herself to calmly
say, “Teddy, go on and tell us the bigger and bigger ways to
grow your business. I’m very proud of you and want to hear
more.”
“Okay, Miss Annabelle,” Teddy said innocently. “I sold the
smoke alarms so fast, that I soon ran out of houses to sell to.
My dad drove me to nearby towns, but I sold to every house
there, too. I thought my glorious business days were over.”
“What happened?” Ian blurted out.
“I went nationwide,” Teddy said like a grown tycoon.
Miss Annabelle nearly fell out of her chair. She involuntarily
sat up and leaned forward and nearly tipped over.
“Here’s what happened: I’d lie in bed at night thinking, ‘I
figured out how to be successful; I could keep going and
going…if only I could get to more homes…if only I could clone
myself and be all over the country!’

125

“Then, one day, it hit me: I had already figured out the
common denominator and perfected the formula to sell my
product successfully. Why couldn’t I, in a sense, clone my secret
formula in others around the country to sell in their
neighborhoods? Everyone would win because those I replicated
my secret formula to would make money that perhaps they could
not make before, the customer would get a safer home, the
manufacturer would get more orders, and I would make more
money. All that good for everyone would happen the more I
reached out to more homes.”
Miss Annabelle could not believe what she was hearing.
Euphoria filled her whole existence, but she tried to remain calm
and quiet as Teddy told his story.
“So I ran a classified ad in the Buffalo News. I got eight
replies from people who were interested in selling the smoke
alarms. They were pretty spread apart from each other, especially
the five who were serious enough to meet with me.
“I cloned my secret. I explained to the five sellers the
essence of the smoke alarms: we were not mere salesmen at
peoples’ door; we were compassionate people interested in saving
lives…their lives and loved ones. Then I explained the common-denominator demand for the product was — safety, and I gave
them my formula starting with holding up the picture of the three
siblings in bed who died in their sleep. Then, I took all five
out with me for a couple of days. I did all the talking and
selling. They just watched and picked up how I did it.
“Pretty soon, I had five people in Buffalo selling for me.
Then I tried the same thing in Hartford, Connecticut. But my
dad would not drive me or let me take the train to go out selling
with my four sellers there. So that forced me to put it all
together into a kit. I audio recorded about four hours of me
selling door-to-door. I included those cassette tapes with each
kit, along with the pictures of the siblings. I wrote down the
essence of the product and the powerful common-denominator
demand for the product.
“The start-up kits were enough, and I had four people selling
in Hartford.

126

“I was still trying to figure out how much money I should
get and how much my sellers should get when my dad suggested
I call the president of the manufacturer and discuss what I was
doing with him. I did, and he sounded amazed at what I was
doing. I told him I planned to go national, and he flew my dad
and me to his headquarters in St. Petersburg, Florida, three days
after Christmas. I told him my numbers and my plans to increase
my business city by city.
“But I saw a flaw in my plan: My sellers could go straight
to the manufacturer cheaper than through me as a middleman.
But, without my secret marketing approach, they would not sell
so many.
“When I told my plan to the president of the manufacturer,
he said he could fix that problem. He lowered my purchase price
so low that I could sell my smoke alarms to my sellers for less
than they could get them at their numbers from the manufacturer.
And if I could scale up even more, the manufacturer would lower
my cost even more.
“In fact, if my numbers are right, by the time I have sellers
in one third of the country, the manufacturer will, at that quantity,
provide the alarms to me for free.”
At this point Danny could not restrain himself and cried out,
“How can he give them away?”
Teddy started laughing when he answered, “That’s what I
asked him, too. Here’s how it works: His company manufactures
a lot of products. The smoke alarms cost him less than a couple
dollars to make. But if I give him the name and address of
every buyer, they will buy, on average, ten dollars of products
from his company in the future. He just sends them a catalog
or other advertisements through the mail. So, he gives me a
two-dollar smoke alarm for free, and I give him a ten-dollar name
and address.”
“Wow,” Cathy said. “You’re the main man!”
Teddy’s speech here floored Miss Annabelle. He really is
a man, she thought. He is integrating a major success puzzle,
and he’s only nine years old! And Cathy, the shy, withdrawn
girl is twenty pounds lighter and boldly crying out her affection
for Teddy across the room. The other ten children sat at the
edge of their seats, more into Teddy’s success story than anything
before in their lives. Teddy made super success real and
achievable — to the kids!

127

Their pulses were racing, too. Their
dreams were confirmed and motivation was soaring.
“Thank you,” Teddy said, blushing a little, looking Cathy in
the eye. “But I’ve just begun. I have so much more to build.
At this time, I have sellers in eleven cities. I think I can expand
to about a hundred cities by summer.” Looking back at Miss
Annabelle, he added “This was my secret when you came to our
house after Christmas. But, I wanted to tell you when I had a
hundred cities…”
Miss Annabelle was speechless. She smiled with utter
admiration and nodded.
“But let me tell you about the greatest thing in the world: it
really is making values like Miss Annabelle told us. Something
happened that I’ll never forget: Over the holidays, a house burned
in Buffalo. It was on the news and in the newspapers. The
father said his new smoke alarms woke him up, and he was able
to get his family out. One of my sellers sold him those smoke
alarms. He called the president of the manufacturer, and he
asked to speak to me. He came to our house and thanked me
for bringing the smoke alarms to his home. He told me that
they saved his family’s lives. He brought with him his daughter
who was about my age and his son who was five. Seeing their
faces, alive, happy, and grateful gave me the greatest feeling I’ve
ever had, and I’ll always carry that feeling inside me. Anytime,
for the rest of my life, I can stop whatever I’m doing and know
that that girl and that little boy are still alive because of me. I
really know the value of what I’m doing. I’m really making a
difference out there. I really know where happiness comes
from.”
A sea of admiring faces let out waves of “wow’s” and
“gosh’s”. After a few moments of stunned stillness, Danny raised
his hand slowly and asked, “What happens when your sellers run
out of houses?”
“Great question,” Teddy answered, shifting gears. “I thought
about that and realized that once I figured out one successful
marketing program to replicate across the country, I needed to
develop another. I’ve already done that. I have another product
called The Defender. It’s a tear-gas spray that stops attackers.
To develop a successful marketing program, I hit the streets
myself and sell to my home town.

128

I learn the essence of the
value I’m selling, and I learn the common-denominator demand.
From there, I perfect the sales formula. Then I replicate it to
my sellers. I’ve already done this with the second product, and
I’ve already replicated it to my five Buffalo sellers.”
“What will you think of next?” an admiring Cathy asked.
“Actually, I’m very excited by that ten-dollar per name and
address,” Teddy answered, amazing Miss Annabelle and everyone
else in the class. “Lately I’ve gotten to thinking, since I’m
learning how to sell directly to people, why can’t I transfer that
formula to paper and sell through the mail? I called the president
of the smoke alarm manufacturer and asked him some questions.
He said that for every name and address I have, I will sell to
about fifteen percent another product through the mail at the same
price that I sold them their original smoke alarm. But, from
my own data, well over half will buy a second product from the
same salesman who sold them the original smoke alarm.
“So I’m transferring my sales formula for my second product
— The Defender — onto paper. Next I’ll send that solicitation
through the mail to all the names and addresses who bought the
smoke alarms.
“I’ll have to see what happens. Here’s what I suspect might
happen: First, before I replicate The Defender to my sellers, I
send my offer through the mail and, hopefully, I make a profit
through the mail. Second, I replicate The Defender to my sellers
and, hopefully, my sellers get a better rate of sales because my
mailing piece already introduced their potential buyers to the idea.
When a person stands before them with product in hand, the near-buyers from my mailing piece will now convert to buyers.
“I’m so excited to get my first test mailing out. It’s costing
me some money to get everything printed and for the postage.
But I like taking a lot of my profit and putting it back into my
business. …I guess that’s about it for now.”
All eleven classmates burst into a mighty applause. As Miss
Annabelle clapped too, she realized that Teddy was moving too
fast to be held back by a slow education, particularly once he
left her class. She predicted, in her mind, that Teddy would
never finish school. He’ll leave school early, she thought, to
put all his energy into his burgeoning success puzzle.

129

He’ll leave school somewhere between eighth and eleventh grade, she silently predicted. Then she asked,
“How do you have time for all this?”
“I’m busy,” Teddy said, “but I learned how to break down
my day by mini-days. I get a lot done that way.”
“What are mini-days?” his teacher inquired.
“Oh, I was reading a book on Henry Ford. He developed
the assembly line by breaking labor into physical movements.
Production soared. I decided to break my day into physical
movements, and my production soared. I have a numbers mini-day where I go over the data, costs, profits, and inventories. I
have a sales-writing mini-day where I work on my sales pitch
or sales piece or classified ad. I have a quick phone call mini-day. I have a selling mini-day for the periods I go door to door.
Each mini-day is a physical movement, and I allot a strict ‘time-station’ to each movement. I get so much done this way, you’d
hardly believe it!”
Miss Annabelle could hardly believe it. Witnessing Teddy’s
forward leap into Neothink was overwhelming. Danny raised his
hand and asked, “How do you figure out all these ideas as you
go along?”
Flattered, Teddy answered, “I do power-thinking…that’s what
I call it. I think into the future to the finished image of my
program, like taking my sales program to all houses in America
and maybe beyond, and then I figure out the steps I need to take
to get there. I write down those steps. Then I put those steps
straight into my mini-days. That’s how I move forward so fast.
Before I started power-thinking, I had reached the end; I was
stuck with no more houses to sell to. Then I broke through to
the next level through power-thinking.”
Miss Annabelle listened to this amazing success story
unfolding before her from her nine-year-old student, and she
wondered, could geniuses like this be in all children, waiting to
be sprung free? With proper, boundary-breaking education, would
geniuses like this rise up in nine-year-olds regularly?
“I’ve started tracking my sellers now. I have them send me
weekly reports on how many houses attempted, how many sold.
I closely watch their ratios and call anyone who starts slipping.
I also just started a motivational letter with tips and figures and
congratulations that I’ll send my sellers once a month.”

130

As she listened, Miss Annabelle was aware of two things
going on inside her: First, this was the greatest reward in her
life. This was what she lived for — to send her students into
this new mentality of integrated thinking and Neothink. She
could feel her body trembling from an adrenaline rush, and her
skin was tingling. Second, she could see by the look in her other
students’ eyes that they would break through to Neothink and
rise to the next level of life and happiness soon. …This is what
I live for, she thought.

*

Thank goodness she turned on the tape recorder to get that
presentation by Teddy, Jake thought as he switched off the audio
cassette player. Listening to the great Theodore Winters, now
the world’s richest man, as a nine-year-old first discovering the
limitless power of his mind, had given Jake a body full of goose
bumps. Man, that gave me a rush, he thought, I hope there’s
more of Theodore on these tapes. With Miss Annabelle,
Theodore Winters, Sally Salberg, and Ian Scott in the same room,
there’s going to be a lot of secrets to success told on these tapes,
Jake realized. There’s a treasure in here, for me…for everyone.
He knew he would have to dig out that treasure and bring
it to the world. His trip here to Duncan Elementary started
because of his curiosity. Now, it was turning into an adventure
of self-discovery…if not a mission for humanity.
Lying in bed that night, Jake felt a growing, burning desire
to find out what happened to the other nine children in that
amazing class.

131

————————
Chapter
Eleven
————————

As Jake listened to more tapes, he seemed to be pulled into
another world, a world that seemed so natural yet so different
from the world he had always lived in.
By any outside measure, this world would seem strange: kids
going national in business, kids questioning the validity of God
and sitting on the edge of their seats in discussions about the
Universe, politics, medicine, and love. Kids running to get to
class and not wanting to leave. Kids compassionate to each
other’s feelings. …Even adults cannot begin to exist at this level,
he thought.
Yet, when Jake listened to the tapes, it all seemed so natural.
When he turned off the tapes and thought about it, however, that
other world seemed bizarre, for his mind would try to measure
it against this world’s standards.
Using Miss Annabelle’s technique to see through to the
essence of things, he tried to grasp what constituted that different
world where he felt so at home as he listened in on it. He really
felt he belonged there.
He remembered Miss Annabelle saying to search for common
denominators to help see the essence. What is the common
denominator in that third-grade classroom, he pondered over and
over.

132

He noticed how alive and motivated the twelve students
became as the year went on. He also noticed that their minds
did not seem at all like children — not one of them. Their
voices were high and sweet like nine-year-olds. But their minds
worked in concepts that reached out far beyond most adults and
made clear understandings of complex ideas. Their young minds
worked much better than adults’ minds. No, Jake thought, those
children’s minds worked beyond adults’ minds; those children are
in some other world.

*

Angie was calling Jessie and Jake to the kitchen table. She
always fixed a substantial breakfast. She believed that breakfast
was the most functional meal of the day and was put to good
use, so she never skimped.
She scooped three poached eggs, several sausages, and cut
cantaloupe onto their plates. Jessie buttered a piece of toast.
Jake took a biscuit and poured some white gravy over it.
Angie and Jessie wanted to ask Jake what he had heard thus
far. But Jake stared at his plate as he slowly ate. He was trying
to figure out what constituted that other world. The breakfast
was quiet for about three minutes. Then Jake looked up. Seeing
Angie and Jessie looking at him, he smiled and apologized for
his absentmindedness.
“What are you wrestling with inside your head?” Jessie asked.
Jake, suddenly buoyed by the thought that Jessie and Angie
had listened to the tapes too, said, “When you listened to the
tapes, one after the next, did you get, uh…a feeling like some
other type of life exists…that everyone is missing out?”
Angie and Jessie looked at each other and Angie sighed.
“It’s like, when I listen to those tapes…” Jake continued,
grasping for an analogy, “…it’s like going through some kind
of space-time jump to another place, a special, secret place very
few have ever been, but everyone belongs.”
“Yes,” Angie said. Then reaching over to hold her husband’s
hand, she added, “We’ve talked about that many times. It’s like,
in that world, everyone is learning. They just keep building those
amazing thoughts.”

133

“Everyone is doing the right thing during that one year,”
Jessie said emphatically. “Life out here is just not like that.”
“But why not?” Jake asked, never so sincere before in his
life.
“Honey, we don’t know how to make it like that,” Angie said
with noticeable maternal feelings for Jake. “I wish…I really wish
we did.”
“I think I do,” Jessie said, surprising Angie and Jake. “My
head’s been spinning with memories ever since the day before
yesterday when Jake arrived,” he said looking at Angie. “And
I think I’ve spotted the common denominator behind every
moment in that classroom that year, especially after the holidays
when things really started happening fast.”
Then Jessie turned his gaze to Jake and his voice dropped
into the most serious tone Jake had yet witnessed: “Jake, have
you heard the talks by Theodore Winters, Ian Scott, Sally
Salberg, and Danny Ward?”
“Only the talk by Ted,” Jake said.
Jessie continued, holding Angie’s hand while bouncing his
eyes back and forth from Jake to Angie, “Those amazing learning
curves and those amazing thoughts you refer to…and everyone
doing the right thing…it seems so miraculous, so impossible. But
what is it we witness when we hear those kids putting together
those amazing thoughts? We witness people who, as far as their
knowledge reaches, are completely honest with reality. Those
kids become incapable of hedging on honesty. They could not
rationalize away what is, regardless of what anyone else said,
regardless of what everyone else said.”
“Yes!” cried Jake. “Remember what Ian started saying about
God being a rumor. When he had enough knowledge to see God
as an illusion, he did. Nothing held him back, not a thing.”
“And that’s why they always did the right thing,” Jessie
added.
“They became so loyal to honesty, they couldn’t be held back
by the many illusions in this world built on a dishonest matrix
of illusions,” Jake added enthusiastically. “Therefore, they
soared.”
“It’s because of their profound honesty that they so rapidly
cut through to those huge insights,” Jessie continued.

134

“I remember Miss Annabelle telling me how she could explain a
very complex idea to her children, an idea that cut through
illusions to the essence of things. She told me that her children
could immediately get it, whereas adults would take much longer,
if they would ever see through the illusions at all. …Well, now
I know, that’s because the children used profound honesty in
dealing with logic and reality.”
“That’s it!” cried Jake. “That’s it. Those kids and their
teacher had a powerful but elusive tool: they were able to see
reality — see through the many illusions to the essence of things,
which takes profound honesty in dealing with reality. Like you
said, Jessie, as the year went on, they seemed to actually become
incapable of being dishonest in any way. Therefore, they always
did the right thing.”
“Yeah, they really soared. Just wait till you get to Danny’s
talk,” Jessie said while nodding.
“What about Danny’s talk?” Jake asked.
“You don’t know who he is yet, do you?” Jessie asked; his
eyes were smiling.
“Should I?”
“Yeah, if you follow the news.”
After a moment of thought, Jake blurted, “No…not Daniel
Ward. I love him! …He’s not the same person as Miss
Annabelle’s Danny…is he?”
“Yup, that’s him,” Jessie said laughing, “and you thought
there were just three greats. Nope, there’s at least four.”
Jake was stunned. Daniel Ward had surprised the nation with
his figures in polls as a third-party presidential candidate who
came out of nowhere running under his new political party called
the Twelve Visions Party! He did not lead in any poll, and he
was not second. But he had captured the attention of the nation
and his numbers were rising.
“My God,” Jake said. He shook his head in disbelief. More
missing pieces to the puzzle inside Jake’s mind were snapping
together. “Daniel Ward today represents that other world of
profound honesty. That man blasts through all the political
illusions that have existed since the beginning of civilization. He
opens my eyes to illusion after illusion that even I couldn’t see
through.”

135

Jake had been interested in the Twelve Visions Party after
hearing Daniel Ward deliver a campaign speech at Boston
University a month before. Jake had never been interested in
politics before Daniel’s speech and his new Twelve Visions Party.
Daniel Ward, who never held public office before, was a
wealthy self-made businessman. He was a developer who
revolutionized luxurious yet affordable planned communities
throughout the western United States. He personally designed
the homes and the tall condominium buildings. He was known
for his enormous conceptual reach and, paradoxically, for his
enormous capacity for tracking the details of his sprawling
empire. He possessed a rare dynamism that let him smoothly
handle huge situations. He was a lover of life; he knew how
to succeed, and he had enormous energy.
He financed his own presidential campaign. His platform was
simple: depoliticize America. His platform was built on two
premises: 1) He would free the existing geniuses and the many
more potential geniuses of society by ending most government
regulations, 2) in turn, new technology would soar in all
industries as already happened in the mostly unregulated computer
industry, sending consumer costs to fractions…making the
consumers — the people — wealthy.
He honed Six Visions from his Twelve Neothink Visions.
Those stimulating Six Neothink Visions drew standing ovations
at his campaign stops. His Six-Visions Campaign attracted the
man in the street and caused escalating support. Daniel packed
auditoriums wherever he spoke; he had become a rising star.
Jake could not get a seat in Boston University’s overflowing
auditorium, so he stood with others along the back wall and
listened closely to Daniel:
“In my First Vision, I saw all people’s needs taken care of
by the geniuses of society, rising by the many millions as I
removed most government regulations. Those freed geniuses
rapidly drove technologies into new dimensions that brought
undreamed of values to the people.
“My Second Vision showed me that those soaring new
technologies, in turn, plunged toward zero costs like the computer
revolution.

136

That Great Technological Revolution made ordinary
people more and more wealthy, like millionaires, as costs in all
industries kept plunging to fractions.
“In my Third Vision, I saw that the new technologies racing
ahead in all industries also raced ahead in the medical industry
without the destructive FDA regulations holding the geniuses
back. The geniuses eradicated disease after disease, and their
soaring new technologies drove down medical costs. People lived
with nearly perfect health well into their hundreds.
“In my Fourth Vision, businesses strove to keep up with the
rapid progress of the Great Technological Revolution. So
everything changed as businesses, to stay competitive,
concentrated on bringing out their greatest asset — the unique
creativity of their employees. Ordinary people experienced
extraordinary entrepreneurial-like jobs; they loved going to work,
and they shared in the profits they created.
“My Fifth Vision showed me that the wonderful falling-in-love feelings in the early weeks of romantic relationships did not
fade over time. Why? People were no longer sinking in
stagnation. Instead, they were successful and soaring in the
livelihoods of their dreams. With that ongoing source of
happiness inside, filling them and overflowing into their romantic
relationships, they could forever feel the power of love.
“My Sixth Vision showed me ordinary people becoming
smarter than today’s richest people. Heretofore, ordinary people
awaited their instructions in life from work, from the media, from
the government, the church, the Establishment. In the new
Twelve-Visions World, however, instead of being told how to
live, ordinary people began integrating knowledge to lead
themselves. They began snapping together knowledge into
growing success puzzles at work and life in general. They could
see through the matrix of illusions and no longer needed or
wanted to be led by false authorities. The need and desire for
a government ruling class and its regulations became repulsive.
The old structure of government could not exist with that new
mentality.
“In total, I had Twelve Visions that showed me a new world
of wealth, health, and peace. I am here to take you into that
new world — the Twelve-Visions World.”

137

The large crowd of college students burst into applause. The
intensity of the applause forced Daniel to stop talking. Someone
in the overflowing room yelled out, “Why does your political
campaign keep rising in the polls while the other third parties
remain just a small percentage of likely voters?”
Jake listened in awe as Daniel described a new political
structure for a new mentality:
“I’m becoming a contender in this political race because my
campaign has nothing to do with political ideas,” he proclaimed,
befuddling his college audience. “I’m becoming a contender
because I represent the next evolution of man, which has already
begun. Political structures, ironically, are not based on political
ideas; they’re fundamentally based on man’s mentality.
Heretofore, our political structure along with the other basic
structures of civilization like religion, education, marriage,
enterprise were based on mankind’s mentality from the past,
known as the bicameral mentality. The bicameral mentality goes
back to over 3000 years ago when people’s minds regularly
hallucinated the voices of the gods emanating from statues, tombs,
pyramids or other awe-inspiring objects of worship, telling man
what to do and how to live his life.
“Today’s mentality still functions in that bicameral fashion.
Instead of voices of the gods, however, people let the voices of
the politicians and regulatory bureaucrats tell them what to do
and how to live their lives. In short, the current and past
mentalities seek to be told how to live by some outside authority.
“But the next evolution of man has begun. The dawn of a
completely new mentality has arrived. That new mentality seeks
no further than one’s own mind for direction on how to live.
Man’s new mentality no longer looks toward external authorities.
He needs no authorization from outside. The mentality of the future
looks inside to one’s own honest, integrating mind for authority.

138

“All those government programs for the so-called ‘public
good’, with politicians telling us how to spend our money, and
all those regulatory programs with bureaucrats telling us how to
run our businesses…none of those programs could survive in the
new mentality that no longer accepts being told what to do.
…Perhaps now you can understand that the Twelve-Visions
Platform of 1) removing all government programs that are on
the offense telling people how to live their lives, and 2) reducing
government to programs of defense only, protecting individuals
from physical aggression…is not a platform based on political
ideas per se. The platform is simply a new political structure
based on the new God-Man mentality of no external authorities
telling us how to live our lives. Therefore, as mankind makes
its next evolution, the Twelve Visions Party will be the only
political survivor.”
Jake joined the thunderous applause. Holding his hand up
to quiet the crowd, Daniel Ward continued.
“That, my friends, is the secret to this campaign. Our next
evolution into the new mentality has begun. Now you can really
understand where the issues of my campaign are coming from:
the Solar-Eclipse Budget that eclipses over half of the typical
budget in order to eliminate the solar-high spending programs
for the ‘public good’ and to eliminate the regulatory
bureaucracies, leaving money for national defense and paying off
the debt…well, now you can see that such issues are much more
than mere political ideas; they represent a new political structure
for the new mentality of no external authorities telling us how
to live.
“The results of eliminating a government of offense and all
its burdensome regulations will be spectacular wealth for the
people as the freed geniuses of society rise up. In this day and
age of high technology, they’ll drive technologies through the
next level to create spectacular new values for us, and the cost
of those spectacular new values will plunge toward zero as we’ve
already seen with the computers and communications. Ordinary
people will live like millionaires — healthy millionaires who
rarely get sick as the geniuses eradicate disease through soaring
new medical technologies.
“Businessmen and women who have no interest in political
careers are joining my Twelve Visions Party across the country.
I call this phenomenon the Great Replacement Program as we’ll
say good-bye forever to the career politician. There’ll be no such
thing as career politicians telling us how to live our lives in the
new mentality of no external authorities.

139

“Government programs for the ‘public good’, including the
regulatory bureaucracies, will now go to the private sector. Now,
instead of politicians serving themselves and their political
agendas, millions of geniuses of society will be serving you —
the consumer. I call this phenomenon the Great Displacement
Program as we say good-bye forever to so-called political ‘public
good’. There’ll be no such thing as bureaucrats telling us how
to spend our monies or run our businesses in the new mentality
of no external authorities.
“As we displace those programs and services to the private
sector, the Federal government will have a huge sale — selling
off everything that has nothing to do with defense. The trillions
of dollars generated from the sale of big government will repay
every American’s past contributions toward Social Security with
interest. Then, when everyone is repaid with interest, the Social
Security program for the so-called ‘public good’ will be
terminated. Social Security telling us how to save our monies
could never survive in the new mentality of no external
authorities.
“The only government that could survive the rapidly
approaching new mentality is a protection service, a government
of defense protecting individual and property rights from physical
aggression. A Protection-Only Budget less than half the typical
budget is all that is needed to do that. The other money that
goes to government on the offense, telling individuals how to
live, will not survive the new mentality of no external authorities.
“Of course, the budget today is bound by existing law that
needs to be weeded out with new law. That won’t actually
happen until the Great Replacement Program sweeps through the
mid-term elections. Then, Congress will appropriate funds for
physical protection only.
“The new government structure of defense will serve one
Prime Law of Protection. In fact, it’s so short, clear, and
indivisible, anyone can memorize it as his or her anchor to
freedom and can recite it in about two minutes anytime, anywhere
to uphold it and forever protect it:

140

Daniel Ward slowly emphasized every word of Article 3 of
the Prime Law. The crowd broke into whistles, clapping, and
loud young men shouting, “Yeah!” and “ou! ou! ou! ou!” with
their arms gyrating. Jake’s face turned red as he felt his blood
throbbing through his neck. He was moved and thought he might
get involved with the Twelve Visions Party. …This all happened
a month before Jake knew anything about Miss Annabelle.
Daniel Ward waved to the roaring crowd and left the
platform, thinking to himself that someday soon the idea of
campaign rallies will seem weird, like ancient history, as
government of defense will fairly quickly run like a business
based on people’s performances, not elections.

141

Returning to the present from his memory of the moving
campaign speech, Jake said to Jessie and Angie, “I’m still in
shock. But it makes so much sense now. Daniel Ward is driving
for a fully honest society. That society provides the ultimate
conditions for happiness for everyone.”
“Doesn’t it fit Miss Annabelle’s classroom?” Angie said.
“Daniel is using widescope honesty to blast through illusions like
political ‘good intentions’ for the ‘public good’.”
“Yes, yes it does all fit together,” Jake echoed.
“Yeah,” Jessie said. Then his voice trailed off as he mumbled
a tormenting, unanswerable question, “What could have been if
that woman had been teaching over the past 27 years?”
That thought, indeed, haunted Jessie, Angie, and Jake. What
could have been? Jake kept hearing, in his head, the word he
had heard Miss Annabelle mention a handful of times on her
tapes — God-Man.

142

————————
Chapter
Twelve
————————

The winter weeks following Miss Annabelle’s second school
board confrontation were not only good weeks for her, but
surprising ones as well. Each week, more teachers at Duncan
Elementary School approached her to offer their support.
Furthermore, more and more teachers showed genuine interest
in her successful teaching methods and even complimented her
lectures.
Miss Annabelle was deeply surprised by this support. In fact,
she had no idea that teachers were actually listening to her tapes.
She knew some of the progressive general lectures were too much
for those adults to begin to comprehend after exposure to a
lifetime of illusions. But, they obviously sensed something
wonderful.
During these winter weeks, Miss Annabelle learned more
about adults than in her previous thirty-five years. She observed
these supportive adults trying to comprehend some of her
radically different ideas. They tried hard to cut through illusions
to the essence…to what is. …They’re good people, Miss
Annabelle thought, but they’re guided along by the matrix of
illusions created by the small minority of bad people.
That observation would, of course, prove to be her fate at
Duncan Elementary School.

143

She pondered how just one person with power, in her case, Hammerschmidt, could create and successfully carry forth illusions that would have destroyed her career if she were not so unusually effective at defending herself.
She thought how just one person with power can cause
extensive damage, for ordinary good people cannot pierce through
the matrix of illusions on their own to the essence of
things…because they put authority outside their own minds.
That’s the problem, she thought. Until the ordinary person learns
how to become a self-leader and no longer looks outside himself
for leadership and guidance…and instead turns inward to his own
mind for self-leadership and self-guidance by seeing what
is…until his jump to that God-Man mentality, he will ultimately
give his power away and blindly follow his leaders. Those
leaders, like Hammerschmidt and like most politicians, are
generally dishonest people who thrive on usurping people’s
power.
Miss Annabelle also thought about her students “jumping” one
by one to that new mentality, the God-Man mentality where the
authority resides in one’s own integrating mind. She sensed the
change could someday come to society, for she observed a small
but growing core of people rebelling against authority, particularly
against the politician. Those people, she noticed, were not just
complaining about specific politicians. Instead, those people were
rebelling against the idea of the agenda-driven politician, period.
Slowly, one by one, people were beginning to turn down the idea
of external authorities directing human life beyond the basic laws
of protection.
Of course, the basis of her educational program was to teach
her students to seek no further for authorization than their own
minds honestly integrating reality to see the essence of things
and know what is. She thought about how the majority of
people, on the other hand, inherently know they do not see
through to the essence of things and cannot integrate knowledge
needed to guide their lives with any degree of power. Therefore,
they turn their guidance system and broadest decision making
over to the authorities — the external “authorities”. Her students
would never do that. They saw through to the essence of things
and were beginning to integrate knowledge needed to guide their
lives with power. Indeed, they had the power and would never
turn it over to someone else.

144

They would never be dependent
upon and would never accept external “authorities”, for her
students were already jumping to the God-Man mentality.
But, she wondered, why are my peers showing interest and
support? They have sunk so deeply into the beds of quicksand
hidden by illusions. …Why do they seem to want this?

*

About a half dozen teachers actually started joining Miss
Annabelle with the students for lunch. It was during one of these
lunches when Miss Annabelle got her second glimpse since the
parents’ support at the second school board meeting at why these
adults were drawn to her and her ideas. Ian Scott was talking
when she got this second clue.
“All that enormous data that’s been collected on our Universe
has always been studied while assuming mass and energy were
the controlling factors,” Ian said to the amazement of the group
of teachers. “But, what if we look at all that enormous data
while asking another set of questions based on: ‘What if humanlike consciousness controls the Universe?’ Physicists might find
a whole new set of answers.”
Miss Annabelle felt that same jolt of euphoria that she had
when Teddy told his story about his burgeoning fire-alarm
business. Ian has started building his knowledge-puzzle, too, she
realized. …The fascinating thing about this God-Man mentality,
she thought, is that a person, using his own mind as his guide,
can build these knowledge puzzles; he or she can see out further
and further by piercing through illusions to the essence, lassoing
and pulling together common denominators into growing success
puzzles…a new way of thinking that she witnessed in Teddy and
now in Ian, which she called Neothink.
One of the teachers, Mr. Melbourne, a healthy-looking man
originally from Australia, had a strong interest in physics; he
turned to Ian and asked him what made him, in the first place,
think intelligent life controlled the cosmos. Ian elaborated on
the talk he and Miss Annabelle had during the year before about
how intelligent life naturally and very quickly takes control of
nature and then reaches out into space exploration and space
colonization, cultivation, and control of the cosmos.

145

Ian
explained how, given the logistics of the Universe, intelligent life
has existed for millions or billions of years before earthlings.
Rapid technological progress would tend to intercept the cosmos
and, a long, long time ago, taken control of the dynamics that
control the Universe.
Mr. Melbourne became fascinated with this hypothesis. The
two of them talked the entire half-hour left to the lunch period.
As Miss Annabelle watched them, she noticed how Mr.
Melbourne seemed like an excited kid again — full of enthusiasm
and wonder. He seemed to have rekindled his child of the past.
That child of the past so full of life and wonder has died long
ago in most adults, killed by the adult world of lost dreams and
stagnant routine ruts. But here she saw the beautiful wonder
of the child fill Mr. Melbourne’s expression, and she knew this
wonder is what draws these adults to her.
“It’s that child of the past within,” she thought, answering
why these teachers were drawn to her. “Those adults see me
as their bridge to the child of the past buried within every adult.
I’m their hope; their bridge to that lost child of wonder and
happiness.”
While Miss Annabelle was making this observation, suddenly
Mr. Melbourne turned to her and asked, “Can I get a copy of
that lecture of you and Ian last year? I want to listen to it and
talk to Ian some more on this.”
“Why, sure you can,” she said. And for that brief moment,
his eyes and hers locked; they both felt something urgent inside,
like a tugging feeling. A wave of energy from some unknown
source swooped through Miss Annabelle.

*

That evening, Miss Annabelle went for a walk just before
dusk. During her walk, she saw in her mind’s eye that moment
again…his eyes. Whatever was drawing him to me, she thought,
was drawing me to him. What is it about him? Is it his good
looks? she wondered. No, she realized quite to the contrary, she
had become very suspicious of good-looking men since she broke
away from her abusive ex-husband, who had exceptional looks.

146

If anything, John Melbourne’s healthy outdoorsman looks backed
her off. So, what was it, she wondered, that tugged at me during
that moment when I looked into his eyes?
She relived the moment in her mind. She gazed into his blue
eyes, again. Yes, it has to do with his eyes. Oh, the innocence
in those eyes, she thought; they’re like a child’s eyes. But, then
again, his eyes carry the strength of a man who’s been around
the world, figured it out, and has no fear. Then, all over again,
the feeling of attraction rushed through her.
She stopped walking. “I like his innocence and strength,”
she confessed out loud. “I see in him beautiful life; he hasn’t
been pulled under by the negative forces around him. He’s too
strong.”
Suddenly she laughed at herself, thinking about a man. She
was still too wary of romantic relationships to acknowledge the
romantic feelings stirring within her. On the surface, she thought
she was simply admiring his character.
“Why did I just laugh?” she asked out loud, amused at
herself. She didn’t admit it, but it felt good. She involuntarily
laughed again, and as she laughed, she saw John Melbourne’s
face smiling at her.

*

Another blissful week passed; Miss Annabelle arrived to
school early Thursday morning. It was an unusually cold day,
but she forgot about her chill when she approached her desk and
saw the envelope with her name on it.
Many thoughts raced through her mind: Sally’s mother,
another summons, a private note from one of her students. …She
took a deep breath and opened it.
What she saw made her gasp and place the note back on the
table. John Melbourne had listened to the lecture about the
cosmos. He wrote,
“Miss Annabelle, I was intrigued by your lecture. I have a
thousand questions. Will you be my guest for dinner Saturday?”
Her heart was pounding; her palms were sweating. She felt nervous.

147

She was gathering her thoughts when she heard a light
knock on her door. Before she could answer, her door cracked
open and John Melbourne poked his head in and said in his softspoken Australian accent, “Good-day, ma’am.”
Not knowing what to say, she managed to echo his greeting,
“Good day,” she said gently.
“Well, will you have dinner with me?” he asked, flashing a
handsome smile that, like his eyes, carried innocence and
strength.
Miss Annabelle decided to say “no”. Besides, she thought,
my life is devoted to my twelve students and to preparing my
lectures for them. She had no time for distractions, particularly
with the growing possibility that this could be her last and only
year as a teacher here. She had to equip her students with the
ability to forever, without her future help, see through the matrix
of illusions to the new world of what is.
Her mind was made up that she would not join Mr.
Melbourne for dinner; she looked directly in his eyes and said,
simply, “Yes.”

*

Moments later the click of the door handle turning brought
Miss Annabelle out of her daze. The door opened, Miss
Annabelle saw a beautiful girl and realized it was Cathy. Cathy
was still a little chubby, but beautiful and headed toward
gorgeous.
“Come here, you pretty thing,” Miss Annabelle commanded
in an elated voice. “Look at you!”
Cathy grinned with poise and confidence. Miss Annabelle
could hardly believe her eyes. She remembered how just a few
months ago Cathy couldn’t even smile. Now she smiled
effortlessly.
“Miss Annabelle,” Cathy said, her smile not yielding, “Is it
possible to be, you know…in love at my age?”
“By the way you’re glowing, I’d say it must be possible!”
They both laughed and talked for twenty minutes. Miss
Annabelle loved this moment with Cathy. The little girl had
become alive and interested in life. Miss Annabelle soaked up
the little girl’s giggles as precious gifts.

148

Cathy, too, had been starving for conversation with someone
who cared about her. Her parents were not interested in happy
subjects. They got excited over long-winded complaints.
After the twenty-minute chitchat, Cathy gave Miss Annabelle
a hug. Just then the door opened. The stern faced principal
stared at Miss Annabelle as if she were caught doing something
wrong.
“Yes, may I help you?” Miss Annabelle asked.
“Certainly you can, Miss Annabelle, by following school
policy. You keep your door open when you have a child in there
with you, henceforth!”
“Oh? I didn’t realize that was a school policy,” Miss
Annabelle said.
“It is now!” Ms. Minner snapped back.

*

The sun had gone down; it was Saturday evening, and Miss
Annabelle noticed she was getting nervous. Her date would
arrive in less than fifteen minutes, and she had tried on four
different outfits and was still trying to decide what to wear.
While putting on makeup, she stopped and looked in the
mirror into her own eyes and, for the first time, asked herself,
do I like him?
She confessed to herself that she was attracted to him. Yet,
wise from her first marriage, she knew her feelings were but an
initial attraction.
She calmed down a little and looked forward to their dinner
together…just in time, for the doorbell was ringing. She put
her lipstick on in three smooth strokes and went to the door.
“You look stunning,” John Melbourne said. His comment
was a genuine, knee-jerk reaction upon seeing Miss Annabelle.
She was wearing a one-piece red sweater-dress that contoured
her small, curvaceous frame. He was helpless to stop his eyes
from roaming over her body. Her auburn hair belonged with
this dress; her purple eyes radiated with feminine mystique. The
dress seemed to shrink around her tiny waist. Then, looking
down, he saw the dress stop about four inches above her knees,
revealing just a peek at her slim thighs.

149

“Miss Annabelle, it’s just that I’ve never seen you so…so
ravishing.” He was speaking in all sincerity of a man taken
aback by a woman’s beauty.
“Thank you, Mr. Melbourne…”
“Please, call me John,” he said, not sure whether to be
embarrassed by his reaction or whether she took it as a
compliment.
“Thank you, John,” she said, “and call me Anna.”
She gestured for John to come inside and went to get her
purse. When she pulled her coat from the closet, John took the
long white overcoat and helped slip it over her shoulders.
Outside on the steps Miss Annabelle nearly slipped on the ice.
John grasped her arm firmly to keep her from falling. They both
laughed, which broke the nervous tension, and enabled them to
relax.
They drove about twenty minutes to a restaurant with a
“down-under” theme. When they walked through the front door,
two pleasing sensations greeted them: the relief of warmth from
an open, circular fireplace crackling right in the middle of the
restaurant, and the sweet smell of fresh baked bread. The dark
wood tables and walls glowed with reddish reflections from the
big fireplace and the individual candles on each table. It was
rustic and romantic inside. She was excited to sit down and get
to know him better.
The hostess sat them at a table close to the fire. Miss
Annabelle looked radiant in her red dress, the red sequins
sparkling in the fire’s glow, her auburn hair blending with the
warm wood furnishings, her purple eyes reflecting the fire itself.
They ordered steaks and a bottle of cabernet.
“I was so impressed with your lecture, Annabelle,” he said.
“I’m going to listen to all of them, and I’m compelled to tell
you something I’ve never told anyone but one other person.
First, I’ve done a lot of reading, research, and writing over the
years…” Miss Annabelle loved his intense eyes and sexy accent.
“And I’ve concluded that everything we do originates from one
of two fundamental minds: from man’s mind functioning as it
did in the distant past or from early glimpses into man’s mind
functioning as it will in the future.”

150

Miss Annabelle’s eyes suddenly ignited. She knew exactly
what he was saying.
“In fact, the basic structures of civilization today like
education, religion, politics, business, science, marriage, and the
arts were built by our mind of the past, but I can see that all
changing over the next few years.”
Miss Annabelle leaned forward in her chair and rested both
arms on the lacquered wood table. The flame from the candle
illuminated the beauty of this woman’s face when interested in
a man. For the first time, she sensed that this man saw the world
from a much wider perspective than she ever suspected, possibly
surpassing her own perspective.
“You’re the first, Annabelle, from all that I’ve read and seen,
who’s taking education to the next structure…for the mind of
the future.”
He stopped talking, catching Miss Annabelle off guard. She
was just starting to let herself feel her physical attraction for him
and was noticing his full lips, masculine jaw line, sandy hair and
matching whiskers, and soft blue eyes…when he suddenly
stopped talking. She had to momentarily gather herself and her
thoughts.
Miss Annabelle pulled back a little and said, “Tell me, John,
what is this mind of the future like?”
He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “Annabelle, you
know what it’s like. Humanity never stopped looking for a voice
to guide us. All structures of civilization today are set up that
way — for us to be guided. But you teach children to guide
themselves. They use their own minds to pull together and
structure knowledge like structuring a map. They build a
knowledge map and use that mental map to guide themselves.
They sidestep outside guidance. They see, as you say, what is.
They guide themselves. Outside voices can never control your
students now…or ever.”
If a man could ever get Miss Annabelle’s attention, he had
just done it perfectly, but sincerely. Miss Annabelle felt pure
joy in hearing this reflection. “That’s why they’ve begun
building new ideas that will affect the world,” she said proudly.
“Yes, I know,” Mr. Melbourne said, “like Ian and the amazing
hypothesis he’s putting together.

151

He’s advancing into the mind of the future that integrates and builds knowledge to lead himself and create new knowledge, which is what happens with the mind of the future. Most people don’t know how to lead themselves or create new knowledge, but I believe the day is coming when everyone will shift to that mind of the future, and we’ll live to see the day. All the structures of civilization will change.”
Miss Annabelle could not believe what she was hearing.
First, here was someone who knew, as she did, that a new
mentality existed. Second, here was someone who possibly could
see even beyond herself into what this new mentality would mean
to humanity. And here he was, living in Cheektowaga and
teaching at Duncan Elementary!
“How will the structures of civilization change?” she asked
as calmly as she could.
“Politics, religion, business are fundamental structures of
civilization, and currently they tell us what to do and how to
live. Imagine politics not telling us how to spend our money
and run our businesses. With us running our own lives, the
government would reduce to one of protection only. Progress
and prosperity would be phenomenal.
“Imagine religions without a ‘higher’ authority, a guiding
voice telling you how to live. Instead, your own mind becomes
your guide and god by efficiently integrating knowledge together
into pictures of the future. Suddenly, religion would focus on
the greatest value in the Universe — human life in the here-and-now.
“Imagine businesses without external ‘authorities’ dictating our
work day, such as one’s routine-rut delegated down from
management above. Instead, with integrating minds like Teddy,
the entire business structure would have to change to something
radically different to accommodate so many self-thinking
entrepreneurs.
“I don’t have clear answers to how those new structures will
function, but I know they’ll be far superior to what they are
today. In fact, I predict your students will discover some of
those new structures. For example, Ian’s ideas about the
Universe, at nine years of age, are the most exciting ideas I’ve
heard or read in years. And his ideas are very sound. His whole
concept of humanlike consciousness controlling the Universe and
intercepting the course of nature is fascinating and logical.

152

In fact, I can’t find a flaw in the logic. All the existing and new
data will have to be looked at again, as he said, asking a different
set of questions. Some completely new understandings will come
out of that data, a superior understanding than we have
today…because of that one little boy using this new mentality,
bringing us a whole new structure of the cosmos.”
When Mr. Melbourne brought her here, she just thought he
was going to ask some questions about the lecture she and Ian
had about God. She had no idea…
“And there are other things on the horizon like your
discussion about medicine and the plight of poor Sally’s mother.
A superior structure of the medical world will come when the
external ‘authorities’ like the FDA are gone.
“Annabelle, your students are starting to make absolutely
startling breakthroughs. Ian and Teddy have gone beyond any
nine-year-olds I’ve ever been aware of. They both, frankly,
shocked me with their reach of concepts…and it takes a lot to
shock me. …I would not be at all surprised to see others in
your class break through, too, to the mind of the future.”
Miss Annabelle knew all along he was right, but it felt so
good hearing it from him.
“I see the media structure changing from power in the elite
few external ‘authorities’ to power in the hands of everybody.”
Mr. Melbourne continued. “I even see the arts changing from
power in the hands of a few key players or external ‘authorities’
to the marketplace of consumers. Again, I can’t tell you how
it’s all going to change. I just know that the mind of the future
will no longer let external ‘authorities’ guide our lives.
Therefore, everything has to change.”
“And what about love?” Miss Annabelle asked. Her eyes
softened. She had never had a conversation like this with a man,
and she never thought she would.
“Ah, love,” he said. “I’ve read that only a beautiful woman
really understands love. So, please, you tell me.”
Miss Annabelle felt her heart pounding. “I…I’ll tell you.
But…I love listening to you talk.” She suddenly felt vulnerable,
“Please, go on.”
“Well, I know people will be much happier with the mind
of the future, in its new world,” he said.

153

Then he added, slowly,
“And I know happy people are the most romantic people…and
the best lovers.” He stopped. He looked into her eyes. She
felt that rush of energy go through her again.
“Are you a happy person?” she asked sensuously. Her eyes
involuntarily looked down slightly at his lips then back to his
blue eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, yet with a
firmness that gave away his desire for her.

154

————————
Chapter
Thirteen
————————

The children in Miss Annabelle’s class were changing fast.
They were changing from little children to powerful thinkers.
And they loved it!
She asked Mr. Melbourne to speak to her class. She wanted
him to reveal to her students what he had told her at the romantic
restaurant. She wanted him to compare their open-ended future
through the new mind versus the dead-end future through the
“normal” mind. She felt he would enlighten her students to the
major breakthroughs they could someday enjoy using the new
puzzle-building Neothink mentality.
The very next day, Mr. Melbourne delivered his lecture: “A
few of you have advanced to the mind of the future. Oh, what
power you possess. Let me tell you about it.” All twelve
students sat up and listened closely. They liked what they heard,
and they would discover that Mr. Melbourne was one of them.

*

That night, Miss Annabelle whispered in his ear, “You were
beautiful today with the kids.”
Like a proud father, he asked if she saw the look in their
faces. For an hour, they talked about the looks and reactions
on each child’s face.

155

“Talking to your students today was an honor,” he told her.
“I’ve never, never experienced an atmosphere like that. …Thank
you.”
Miss Annabelle melted when she heard those words of
admiration.
“John, I want you to know…I’ve never known real love
before,” she heard herself saying. She felt her eyes fill with
tears. “I haven’t known you long, I know. But I’ve never felt
like this before with anyone.”
They talked late into the night. They shared their dreams
and ambitions. Miss Annabelle, of course, was focused on a
very near-term goal: to make it through the school year and equip
her twelve students with the power to see the essence of things,
to see through the matrix of illusions to what is. She was achieving
startling success, but she was terrified that any day the school board
could issue an emergency substitute teacher for the remainder of
the school year. Such a measure would destroy everything. Miss
Annabelle knew she would not be teaching here again.
She told John everything, from the incident with Burke to
the showdown with Hammerschmidt. She also told John that
she feared people at the school discovering their romantic
relationship.
“The school board will use it against me, and against you,
too,” she insisted.
John Melbourne had a strong, fearless personality. He was
also sweet and supportive. “I’ll do this any way you wish,” he
assured her. “But, I want you to know that I’ll step up to your
defense instantly when it’ll help you, no matter what. It’s not
something that can be controlled. …Yes, we’ll be smart and
play our cards to outsmart those dishonest people. But when
the time comes, I’ll be there and will be a force to deal with.”
Just listening to his strong voice made her feel better about
things. She knew the school board would not leave her alone
as long as Hammerschmidt was in charge. She lived with anxiety
every day, dreading another summons…particularly now that
some of her students were articulating extraordinary ideas. She
feared that some of those brilliant ideas could, ironically, grow
into more accusations against her such as teaching blasphemy and
hatred toward the government.

156

But she felt strength in John Melbourne. He was a
remarkably bright man who had spent the past sixteen years
teaching by day, researching and writing by night. He told her
about his goals, too, which were broad and long range.
He was the son of a self-made entrepreneur who invented
products that made people’s lives more efficient. At first, his
dad sold his inventions through direct mail. His products sold
well, and his business eventually grew into a chain of retail
stores. He searched the world for inventions that made life more
convenient. He would advance promising inventions into
commercial products that sold only in his stores.
John Melbourne developed a deep appreciation of the effort
that went into creating and providing affordable values to others,
known as business. He admired self-made businessmen.
He told Miss Annabelle that eighteen years ago he was sitting
in the University of Sydney, Australia listening to his economic
professor when his whole life changed.
“There I was, a nineteen-year-old kid listening to the esteemed
Professor Rosewall,” he said, “when I leapt from my chair, ran
to the front of the class and started putting big black X’s through
his stack of overhead transparencies! One after the other, I’d
place a transparency on the overhead projector, put a big X
through it, and loudly proclaim, ‘Bullshit!’”
Miss Annabelle laughed. “Whatever inspired you to do that?”
she queried, very interested in the rebel she was seeing in him.
“Professor Rosewall seemed to have a relentless dislike for
business — especially the self-made businessman. I put up with
his attacks for awhile, but that particular day, I looked around
at my classmates while he lectured. I remember their faces —
openly watching and listening…innocently absorbing his envy.
Then I looked back at Rosewall. He looked so worn and sinister
as he put up one overhead after the other showing facts and
graphs that were out of context, building toward some conclusion
that self-made businessmen were greedy people who were out
to hurt society. Day after day, he made his way through his
career sanctimoniously denouncing people like my dad. All those
students absorbed his attacks without the victims able to raise
their voices. In the stream of young minds that passed through
his class year after year, he destroyed in their minds people like
my father who worked his tail off to bring a lot of values to a
lot of people.

157

Even worse, he destroyed their desire to be like
my dad…he destroyed their dreams. I just couldn’t sit there any
longer and let him so dishonestly destroy good people. So, I
X’d off every overhead image and got suspended for one week.
But I know that I brought a few of those kids out of Rosewall’s
spell. Their lives could be totally different today.”
“I like what you did, John,” Miss Annabelle said, putting her
hand on his. “I like to see people do what is honest and
courageous.”
“That moment was the turning point in my life,” he said.
“During my week out of school, I started reading like I never
read before. I wanted to figure out exactly how civilization
prospered. I started reading history to learn about the prosperous
civilizations versus the poor ones. I started reading economic
theories. I even started reading different philosophies. And you
know what? In the end, the answer was elegantly simple: the
businessman creating and efficiently distributing values and
employing people makes society prosperous. Now I was
explicitly understanding what I implicitly knew before.
“So when I returned in one week, instead of humbly
apologizing for my actions, I boldly challenged Dr. Rosewall to
a debate! You should’ve seen the look on his face! ‘Me for
the businessman, you for the politician,’ I said. He was shaken,
but he couldn’t back down in front of his students. So we set
the date two weeks from my challenge.
“The debate quickly became the buzz. The next day I saw
posters everywhere with a headline that read: Challenger Johnny
‘Badboy’ Melbourne versus Reigning Champ Dr. Kelvin
Rosewall. The debate became a major event at the University;
everyone was talking about it, like a championship prize fight.
The magnitude of it spurred great motivation within me to dig
into the books as I never have before. For the first time, I was
putting in sixteen-hour days of intense research studying
economics for theory…and history for proof. I was determined
to defeat that dishonest academic who was destroying young
people’s minds.

158

“As it turned out, I really enjoyed those two intense weeks
of research so much that I didn’t stop after that. I gained so
much knowledge and power in such a short time that I decided
to keep going. I just kept on studying and pulling together more
and more information from all subjects on economics, history,
philosophy, psychology, biology, physics. All that knowledge
kept building, and I kept integrating it all together into a giant
3-D picture about life, which is what I’ve been doing ever since,
researching and writing around my teaching job. I’m nearly
ready to publish my work.”
The more Miss Annabelle learned about Mr. Melbourne, the
more fascinated she became. There was so much more to him
than she ever imagined.
“I had no idea you’ve been developing this,” she said.
“No one does. Well, of course my ex-wife knew about it,”
he answered, suddenly realizing he brought his ex into the new
relationship.
“You mean, you’ve been putting this enormous energy into
this book for eighteen years and no one, besides your ex-wife,
even knows it?” Miss Annabelle said, not affected by his
previous marital status, although inwardly curious about it.
“That’s right,” he said matter-of-factly.
Miss Annabelle’s appreciation of this man soared again. Here
was a man so dedicated to a goal and yet so modest that he
rarely talked about it. She was also flattered that he was telling
her. “What is the underlying theme to your work?” she asked.
“Prosperity,” he simply answered, “prosperity in every way:
financially, personally, romantically. The final three chapters of
my work fell into place as I listened to your lectures. Witnessing
the state of your students gave me the living proof of the
naturalness of the new mind, which I’ve been hypothesizing. I’ll
always be grateful to you, as you’ll see when you read my book.”
Miss Annabelle felt a floating sensation inside as she realized
she contributed to her lover’s lifetime work. She also felt a
burning curiosity. She wanted to read his book, starting now.
It was the fastest and deepest way into the heart, mind, and soul
of this man she loved.
“Can I start reading it tonight?” she asked.
“In about three months it’ll be ready for you to read,” he
answered. As the author, he was not ready to release it, even
to his lover, until he was satisfied.

159

“Did your ex-wife read it?” Miss Annabelle asked, feeling a
little jealous.
“No, not a page,” he said. “In fact, I never even discussed
it with her. She was a nice person, but she was never interested
in my work.”
“But this project is you. It’s your life and what you’re all
about. What could be more exciting to your woman?”
John Melbourne wanted to take her and make love to her
right then and there; he wanted to make her his woman. But
he stopped himself. That would come later. Right now, this
beautiful woman before him wanted to know more about him,
and he let her ask her questions:
“Can you tell me more about your book?”
“I could, but it would be best if you read it first, because
it’s so different and built on so many years of foundation. I
can tell you this much: no publisher will touch it. It’s too anti-Establishment for them.”
“So, how are you going to get it out there?”
“I learned the direct mail business inside and out, growing
up in my father’s company. I’m going to publish and market
the book myself.”
“Oh John, that’s exciting. …Will you still teach?”
He hesitated, then answered, “I’m really not there yet to try
to answer that. I love teaching; I’d miss it if I had to leave.”
Miss Annabelle snuggled up against her man and said, “I’d
really love to stay up and talk all night about your book if you’d
let me! …But since you won’t talk about it yet, tell me what
happened in your debate with Dr. Rosewall.”
“Oh, what a night!” he laughed. “Looking back at it now,
I was like a young and tender amateur boxer stepping into the
ring to fight a ferocious professional prizefighter. I was the
underdog who trained for this ‘fight’ beyond human expectations.
My mouth dropped open when so many people showed up that
we had to move the debate from the student union to the
University’s theater, which delayed the start for about 45 minutes.
A number of students shouted out things like, ‘Clean him out,
mate!’ Some were chanting, ‘No more bull…no more bull!’ I
remember someone, I think he was a professor, yelling in my
face, ‘Now you’ll know what it feels like in the slaughterhouse!’
I just tried to stay calm and focused.

160

“When things finally settled down and the audience was
seated, Rosewall and I took our places behind two podiums on
the stage with microphones hooked into the PA system. This
debate had no rules, unlike those you see on college deate teams.
So it got interesting right from the start. Rosewall came out
swinging. He put on a forceful, lawyer-like voice that seemed
to rock the building: ‘Businessmen, if left unattended and
unregulated by government, will rip you blind!’
“I was shocked when a huge cheer boomed back at us.
What’s this? I thought to myself. I was intimidated, but I
refused to show it. In the middle of the cheer, I bellowed back,
‘Yes, businessmen will rip you blind. In fact, I’ll show you how
they’ll drive you into poverty!’
“The crowd went silent. Even my supporters didn’t know
what to do; they couldn’t very well cheer for what I had just
said. They must have thought I cracked. Astonished faces stared
back at me or looked to their neighbors for some answer. Was
I here to support…or to bash the businessman? Even Dr.
Rosewall looked bewildered. At that moment, I said calmly into
a stone-silent room that gave me its full attention, ‘Don’t you
know, two types of businessmen exist: 1) market businessmen
who survive by creating and marketing increasing values at
decreasing prices, and 2) political businessmen who survive by
aligning themselves with political clout to receive advantages and
special rights of way over competition. Those political
businessman are the greedy money-mad sleaze who rip you blind.
They flourish because of the laws and regulations Dr. Rosewall
will try to tell you are needed to protect you! Dr. Rosewall’s
argument today is an ironic joke. The very regulations he argues
for create advantages for the big-business political businessmen
who, in turn, line the politicians’ pockets. It’s a nice relationship.
The politicians’ litigation and resulting regulations choke off
competition from the value-producing market businessmen,
especially the smaller entrepreneurs. I urge all students to keep
their own minds working in overtime as Dr. Rosewall serves up
his hodgepodge of socialism. And that goes for you who take
his class, because his class is, put politely, a sucker trap!’

161

“Rosewall snapped, ‘Now that’s enough, young man!’ I could
hear him on the stage’s sound monitors, but the crowd cheered
so loudly for me that I don’t think they heard him. He had no
choice but to let them quiet down some, which took a good
minute or so. Then he said, ‘Alright, Mr. Melbourne. You used
a very clever debate technique. My hat’s off to you. But while
they applaud you, I laugh at you. You argue in the face of
centuries of philosophers and economists who devoted entire
lifetimes to their studies. You, at your young age, speak in
sophomoric simplicities. You’re a novice at how things work
in the complex world of economics and politics. You have a
lot to learn still, and your argument can be dismissed as simply
too naive.’
“Rosewall was a skilled debater. By taking away my
credibility, he could take away my entire argument in one fell
swoop, no matter how sound. I was inexperienced, and his
approach caught me off guard. I stood there with nothing to
say. I thought, how do I answer him? Everything he said about
me being young and naive was true, although I still knew I was
right. But how would I continue? Everything I’d say would
now seem naive and too simplistic. While I stood there
wondering, he took advantage of my uncertain state and said in
a rich, paternal voice, ‘It’s only natural at your age, to think you
can come along and change the world for the better. I only
commend you for your brave effort, Mr. Melbourne. But life
is so much more complicated than that, as you’ll discover,
unfortunately, with age. Remember, there must always be a
balance of power between business and government. I’m not
saying business is bad or that government is good. I’m just
saying, like anything, you must have balance. Without balance,
you’ll have unregulated drug companies putting out drugs that
could hurt people. And, to the other extreme, you’ll have
excessive regulation with no life-saving drugs reaching those who
need them. …Johnny, you need balance.’
“He was good, as good as any politician I’d ever heard. He
sounded fair and objective, but I knew he was creating an illusion
of objectivity to block, as you would say, the essence of things
or what is.”
“I’m getting goose bumps listening to you,” Miss Annabelle
injected.

162

“I wish I had been there! Whatever did you do now?”
“I remember struggling with the illusion. I could feel drops
of sweat breaking free and running down my back and down my
sides over my ribs. I started thinking, the world really is
complicated, and I really am young and inexperienced. My
confidence started to wither as Rosewall kept working his spell,
‘Come back to my class, Johnny, and give me another chance.
You’re free to disagree at anytime, but let’s discover together
the faults that make this an imperfect world we live in. I
understand you hold businessmen on a pedestal. And I know
you genuinely believe that in your own mind. I was once like
you, Johnny, but then over the years I learned reality versus my
own fantasies. Businessmen are people. They’re not perfect.
They succumb to temptation. And officials elected by the people
are needed to keep them in line. That’s reality, son.’
“The veteran professor had broken my spirit, and he knew
it. Now, with no resistance from me, he really poured it on,
saying, ‘Johnny, come back to my class. When I look at you,
I see myself thirty years ago. I’ll show you the real world, son.
Let it be known, you won here, tonight, Johnny. You won the
battle to journey forth from the innocence of childhood into the
harsh real world. Come back to my class, and we’ll journey
that road together. Let me shake your hand and welcome you
to your future.’ He started walking toward me with his hand
out, wearing a warm, infectious grin. The students, overwhelmed
by the niceness of it all, started to clap. I didn’t know what to
do as he stood before me with his hand out while the students
clapped for us. I didn’t know what to say. I felt overwhelming
pressure to reach out and shake his hand. I raised my hand
toward his and looked once more out into the audience. The
young men and women seemed to be clapping almost robotically.
Their faces seemed eerie…blank. I flashed back to the sea of
innocent faces in his classroom three weeks before that sent me
rushing to his overhead projector. I looked back at Rosewall,
and suddenly his gracious smile seemed like a mask. It was
covering a monster, and I knew it! All at once, my confusion
and anxiety evaporated.

163

“I dropped my hand that I had half raised toward his in my
weak moment, then I turned away from him and addressed the
crowd, ‘Thank you, Dr. Rosewall, very much for everything
you’ve done here tonight.’ He was still smiling. ‘You have
created a real-world anecdote for everyone in here to observe
and to learn our lesson.’ He still wore his smile, but it was
getting stiff. ‘You, sir, in your support of politicians and
bureaucrats, represent the politician. I, teenage son of a wellknown self-made entrepreneur, represent the up-and-coming
businessman. Like the other students here, I’m at a young and
naïve age, as you yourself put it. You graciously approach me
with your hand out, your mouth grinning, your voice hypnotically
endearing, and you encourage me to join you on a journey. You
and me together. You the politician and me the young
businessman, we team up and tacitly become partners in this
complicated real world…made complicated by people like you
— by agenda-driven politicians and regulatory buraucrats! Sure,
I can surrender my innocence and my drive to create greater
values at cheaper prices like my dad, and I can come into your
world of dishonest collaboration between politicians and political
businessmen. The politician gets his monetary connections and
unearned power; the political businessman gets his political
connections and unearned advantages. And together we could
reap easy money and power and make the world a very, very
complicated place for everyone else with all those regulations
and taxes that choke off the real competition. A nice and happy
team we’d surely make, politician and businessman. But through
our joint journey of feel-good smiles and seemingly
compassionate regulations, we’re the bloodsuckers! Let there be
no mistake! Dr. Rosewall is right: the real world is very
complicated. The more complicated, in fact, the more opportunity
for politicians, bureaucrats, and political businessmen to multiply
and flourish. All I ever wanted to do was to get out there and
work my tail off to create exciting values and to figure out ways
to get more and more of my creations around the world through
creative marketing and price reductions. But you come along
and seductively say, come with me innocent youth; there’s an
easier way to go through this harsh, complicated world. To make
it out there, you must join with me. Then you reach out to me.’
“By now Rosewall had gone back to his podium. He lashed
out, ‘You’re putting words into my mouth, mister!’

164

His mask of niceness was off and the monster was out; he lost his cool and snapped, ‘You try your sophomoric thinking in the real
world, and you’ll be sunk you little punk…er, I mean, society
will be sucked dry by you bloodsucking businessmen.’
“I said, ‘That’s right, millions of tender youth do sink or
never even get started, especially the lone entrepreneur who is
the seed of all future jobs and values. He or she cannot make it
against you and your parasitical collusion of politicians and
regulatory bureaucrats and political businessmen. Furthermore, you
scare everyone into believing that the politicians and regulatory
bureaucrats are needed to keep those so-called bloodsucking
market businessmen in line. That way, with a willing public,
you’ll always have your bogus jobs, easy money, and unearned
power. You’ll always have your parasitical ruling class.’
“Rosewall was mad. He was also scared. He cried, ‘You’re
just a kid — you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a
tenured Professor, and I’ve spent my whole life studying this!’
“I saw his hands were shaking as I said, ‘And how many
thousands of innocent spirits have you broken?’ He turned
toward the audience and, recovering from his outburst, said, ‘It’s
obvious Mr. Melbourne is stuck on a fantasy about the almighty
businessman. It’s very understandable, for his father is a famous
businessman, and Mr. Melbourne obviously idolizes his father
and stands to inherit his fortune. It’s obvious I can’t enlighten
this young man. But let me tell you, without your public
servants, you would be the subjects of a world of greed. Respect
your elected officials. They, not the businessmen, are your true
friends.’
“When he finished, I said, ‘Earlier I warned you to think for
yourselves. Less than five minutes later, Dr. Rosewall overcame
your minds with his generous offer to take me on a journey with
him…a journey, it turns out, into dishonesty and parasitism. Yet,
you felt his embracing grin, as did I, and you clapped for his
emotional generosity. He’s a politician; he’s one of them. And
he’s taking all of you for a ride into his world of envy and
dishonesty against those who are good, honest, hard-working
people. Don’t go on his journey. Abandon him. Without you,
his usurped power dries up. His soul mates — the politicians
and regulatory bureaucrats — lose their unearned power. They’ll
become powerless to live off of us, the producers.

165

See him for who he is — a man seething with envy against innocent value producers. If you can’t see through his smiles and charm, hear
his envy. Every day in class he attacks the businessman — the
good — as someone evil who needs to be supervised. He attacks
the successful person you once hoped to become. Journey with
this man, and he’ll destroy your spirit to succeed and replace it
with envy to destroy those who succeed. To rekindle that spirit
to succeed is why I’m standing before you tonight—’
“Rosewall cut me off and said, ‘Knowing the way
businessmen think, I wouldn’t doubt that your father put you
up to this to drum up some sales.’
“I snapped back, ‘When you talk like that, you demonstrate
that you are the naive one. It takes a lot more than a mere
debate to, as you put it, drum up sales. I grew up in my father’s
business and know the enormous effort that goes into creating
and marketing values. You certainly would never make it as
an honest market businessman, and you know it. That’s why
you envy businessmen so.’
“Rosewall laughed nervously and said, ‘Son, I’ve studied, in
depth, everything from Plato to Kant. Who have you studied?
I could have argued their works, but I knew you’d be lost. Do
you want to try me?’
“I responded, ‘You’re the academic; you’re not the market
businessman. In many ways, you’re the one who’s lost, not me.
I grew up as a first-hand witness of the market businessman. I
saw how hard my father worked to create wonderful values and
to find ways to cut costs to bring those values to more people.
In the ways that count, I’m not so lost. People like me, like
my classmates — we’re young. We’re just starting our lives.
We want to go out there and make values for the world that
people want. That’d make us successful financially and
emotionally. But before we get our chance, you pollute our
minds by making us think the very person we dream of becoming
is someone bad — that greedy businessman who’s destroying
society. So, you break our spirit, Dr. Rosewall. Year after year,
you break hundreds of young adults. You fill these young adults
with shame for those people they strive to become.’

166

Rosewall started categorically denying everything I was saying, but I turned to the students and raised my voice over his and shouted, ‘Even if you cannot see through Dr. Rosewall’s clever tactics, ask
yourself if he’s attacking or putting down the value producer.
If he is, then no matter how convincing he is, say one word
silently in your head: envy. If that word seems a little too
academic, then when Dr. Rosewall puts down the creator of
values and jobs, say one other word silently in your head:
bullshit. …That’s all I have to say on this matter. I hope I’ve
helped rekindle some snuffed-out spirits in here tonight. Thank
you for coming. Thank you!’
“I was prepared for an applause, but not for the thunderous
ovation that rocked the theater. Rosewall was trying to object,
but the power of the students overwhelmed him. He suddenly
looked like a nervous, guilty little man. About five students
rushed onto the stage carrying a tall trophy. One of them rushed
to my microphone and blurted out that he was the captain of
the University’s debate team and that I had performed one of
the most convincing debates he’d ever witnessed. The debate
team unanimously declared me the winner and, to my surprise,
presented me with the four-foot victory trophy. Dr. Rosewall
stormed off the stage and out of the building. I accepted the
trophy, but explained to the crowd that the key to my strength
was not a focus on winning, but a focus on honesty. I said,
‘Even if it means losing the debate or embarrassing myself, I
would not hesitate to change if I realized I was out of focus
with reality.’ The crowd gave me a standing ovation. I was a
hero. I never again attended Rosewall’s class, and about half
his students dropped his class. The next year, he transferred to
another, smaller, city college.”
Miss Annabelle had been curled up next to him on the couch,
listening and imagining herself as a college girl in the audience
that night. She smiled at him and asked, “Why didn’t you ever
sit near me when I used to eat in the teacher’s lunch room?”
“Because you’re so beautiful,” he answered smoothly,
sincerely.
“Oh? You avoid beautiful women?” she said, laughing.
“Beauty and emotional maturity never seemed to go together,
until I met you. Wow, had I any idea who you were!”
“Make love to me, my darling,” she whispered.

167

————————
Chapter
Fourteen
————————

It was the fourth day Jake had spent at Jessie and Angie’s
home when Angie told him about Miss Annabelle’s romantic
relationship with John Melbourne.
“When John came into her life, of course, we didn’t see her
as much then, but we were so happy for her. She was really,
really happy.”
“But then?” Jake said. He was anticipating the irrational
world they lived in.
“But then…just when her students and her romance — her
life — started soaring, her world started tumbling toward
something terrible,” Angie said. She looked away, deep in
reflection, and she added, “I don’t know if she ever fully
recovered.”
“It all started at Sally’s birthday party…” Jessie said,
continuing the story…

*

Everyone was singing “Happy birthday to you! Happy
birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Sally! Happy birthday
to you!”
The dark haired little girl leaned forward and blew out the
nine candles on her cake in one gallant breath.

168

February 12th
was Sally’s birthday…her favorite day. Her eleven classmates
were all there. So was Miss Annabelle; she would not miss it
for the world. They all felt extra close to Sally and her mom,
and they wanted to be with them on this special day. There
was so much love in Sally’s home; everyone was hugging
everyone. They were soul mates. They all felt deeply for Sally
and her mother’s fate. But this was a day for happiness and
love.
Sally’s mom was filled with warmth at the sight of these
special little friends together with Sally. Each birthday card Sally
read from her classmates went so much deeper than the usual
happy-birthday greeting. The children wrote things like, “I feel
like you are a sister to me,” and “Let’s always be friends,
wherever we might go,” and “I admire your strength and your
positive attitude; I want to be your friend forever”. Those were
powerful messages from these little children, Sally’s mom
thought. She’ll have a lot of support when I’m gone.
While Sally laughed and played the games at her party, Miss
Annabelle noticed that Sally’s mom was right there next to Sally,
but sitting most of the time. Her energy was going, Miss
Annabelle realized.

*

The next two weeks at school were the two best weeks of
Miss Annabelle’s life. Sally’s party seemed to have pulled
everyone closer. They seemed more like a family than a class.
Instead of the usual “hi” and “good-bye”, the girls would greet
each other with a hug when they arrived and a hug when they
left school. They’d do the same to Miss Annabelle, who happily
obliged. Some of the boys started to give Miss Annabelle a hug,
too. The class always sat together at lunch. Miss Annabelle
liked it most when she sat with her class during lunch hour.
They would arrange the table so all twelve of them could be
around Miss Annabelle, John Melbourne, and the other “cool”
teachers.
Miss Annabelle would always fondly remember those last two
weeks in February, for she never knew such pure love and
happiness as during those winter days.

169

Her life was fulfilled
in every way. She had found the love of her life. For years
she had given up on the idea of falling in love, yet now she
felt like a teenager again. And, she was beside herself in her
passion to develop her students’ minds to efficiently see and
integrate reality so they could always rule their own lives and
never be ruled by the illusions of politicians, regulatory
bureaucrats, journalists, professors, idols, Hollywood producers,
clergymen, the crowd, the Establishment. Miss Annabelle knew
that most people, including her students’ innocent parents, did
not know how to efficiently see through the matrix of illusions.
Therefore, they could not integrate reality to rely on the authority
of their own minds. So, they turned that authority over to the
“experts”. Those “experts” fleeced an easy, prestigious living
from the innocent working person, leaving him suppressed and
stagnant. Life could be so much more for these children than
it was for their parents, she thought. For, her twelve students
would never turn their power over to others.
The final two weeks in February confirmed their developing
self-leadership and growing power, which boosted Miss
Annabelle’s happiness beyond anything she had ever known.
She heard mouth-dropping integrations of new knowledge
coming from her students, particularly during the lunch hour,
which had become her students’ discussion hour as well. A
couple days after Sally’s birthday party, Miss Annabelle, Mr.
Melbourne, and the handful of other teachers sat amongst her
twelve students and listened in amazement to their lunch-hour
discussion. The other teachers either implicitly or explicitly knew
that these twelve children were entering a new mentality of
puzzle-building, self-leading authority. Moreover, with their
ability to see and integrate reality on their own into these growing
puzzles, they were already, at nine years old, developing puzzle-pictures seen by no one before. Both Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne, in particular, knew this group of children would
produce the next great scientist, businessman, doctor,
psychologist.

170

Mr. Melbourne smiled knowingly at Miss
Annabelle as she basked in the children’s lunch hour discussions
this particular winter afternoon:
“Remember when Miss Annabelle explained to us that our
lives are the greatest value in the Universe, and therefore the
super smart people out there would not let us perish?” Ian
started.
“Yes!” Sally answered. “I believe in that. My mom’s going
to be all right.”
“I believe in that too,” Ian responded. “I really do. I’ve
been reading lots of books about our Universe. Scientific theory
has it that our Universe started from a big bang, and is moving
outward. Eventually, though, it will run out of energy…and
someday the Universe will reach something called entropy death,
which means there is no more energy, no more life. But I’ve
been thinking…I don’t think any Universe ever reaches entropy
death for the very reason your mother will be OK, Sally. The
super advanced people out there wouldn’t let entropy death
happen. In theory, every Universe moves toward eventual
entropy death. But in practice, I don’t think it’s ever
happened.”
Mr. Melbourne looked at Miss Annabelle, his eyes as big as
quarters. His mouth dropped, and he wanted to yell out, “Jesus
Christ, Annabelle…what geniuses you’ve brought out of your
kids!” But he said nothing because he did not want to disturb
the amazing discussion.
“You know what, Ian,” Jeremiah, a quiet, tall boy in Miss
Annabelle’s class said, “Talking about not dying, I’m tired of
going to church with my folks. They’re always talking about
after you die…like I’m living to die. And the preacher’s always
talking about how we sin, like we’re bad people or something.
I mean, what’s the deal with that? My mom and dad are good
people; I’m a good person; all of you guys are good people. I
don’t know, my brother and I call that place the Church of Death.
Maybe someday I’ll change all that and create the Church of Life.
Yeah, we’ll talk about immortality…but not after you die. We’ll
join up with the scientists and doctors who are trying to make
us stop aging and dying.”
Miss Annabelle felt that jolt of joy again in her heart.
Jeremiah was thinking completely on his own now. Illusions
and external influence did not stop him from using the authority
of his own mind to see and integrate reality.

171

“All right, Jer!” Sally said. “I go to the library a lot with
my mom; I’ve been learning as much as I can about her cancer.
It seems so simple: cells multiplying too fast. Can’t they be
shut off somehow?”
“They could be,” Danny said, “if the FDA were stopped.
Then the drug companies and entrepreneurs could really advance
fast. They’d figure out how to shut off those cancer cells in
no time.”
A new boy at Duncan Elementary, who was a year or two
older than Danny, sitting at the next table, snickered at Danny’s
comment.
“You doubt that?” the confident younger boy challenged.
The older boy turned around and said, “Yeah. My dad works
for the EPA, and without him, your businessmen would end up
killing our beautiful Earth. And without the FDA, your
businessmen would end up killing people for a buck. Next thing
you know, more and more people would get sick and die from
some new drug or something.”
“Have you ever had a paper route?” Danny asked the older
boy.
“Yeah, why?” he answered, puzzled.
“Did you go so fast on your bike that you broke the windows
on several houses every day because you wanted to get done
quickly?”
“Of course not!” the bigger boy said, agitated at Danny.
“You didn’t because you wouldn’t have lasted; you would’ve
been fired. That’s not to say that you didn’t break a window,
once maybe, by accident. But you would’ve learned from your
accident and learned your limitations and stayed within them.”
“So, what’s your point?”
Seeing the older boy was confused, Danny said, “What about
cutting grass? Have you ever done that for money?”
“Yeah, I cut three lawns; one of them has expensive flower
beds overlapping the lawn, so I take extra care of that, too,” the
older boy said. He shook his head at Danny’s line of
questioning.
“OK then, do you just mow right over those expensive
flowers that overlap the lawn because you want to spend as little
time to make the most amount of money?”
“Of course not, they’d never let me come back!”

172

“I’m not saying you didn’t once, maybe, run over a flower
by accident. But you learned and corrected your technique,
right?” Danny winked.
“Yeah, right…why?” The older boy was lost.
“Because when you deliver your papers and when you cut
your grass, you’re a businessman…and you sound like a good
one, too! See what is with your own eyes — not through your
dad’s stories. Businessmen have to do good jobs at what they
do, or they lose the business! They can and will make mistakes.
This is not a risk-free world. But they quickly learn and correct
their mistakes…you’re living proof.”
Several kids at the older boy’s table made acknowledging
sounds like “hummmm…yeah …he’s right”. The older boy
shrugged his shoulders and turned back around. Miss Annabelle
and Mr. Melbourne saw a special skill in Danny Ward. His mind
was so fast…and at nine years old. This speed of thinking was
possible because he, too, now efficiently burned through illusions
to see reality. Miss Annabelle sat back and enjoyed the
metamorphosis occurring among her students.
“I have a little real-world experience on what you’re saying,
Danny,” Ted offered. “I never think of ways to make more
money by sticking it to my customers. It just doesn’t work that
way. Instead, I think in the total opposite. Remember when I
told the class how I want to learn to sell several products to
my customers? I have to make them feel they got a great value
so I can sell more to them in the future, which is where the
real profit is. So, the more value my customer gets, the more
money I can make from him. Every businessman has to work
that way — or he’ll go bust!”
“How’s your business doing?” Cathy asked Ted with an
admiring look.
“Oh, Cathy, I keep improving it. I’ve improved my data
tracking reports. I get so much more control now, I’m going
to bring in two more products to sell.”
Mr. Melbourne and Miss Annabelle looked at each other,
amazed. Teddy was always going to the next level.
“I’ve been reading a lot about the greatest businessmen
who’ve ever lived,” he continued. “The latest book I’m reading
is about Henry Ford. He’s my hero.

173

He invented the assembly line, which enabled mass production and much higher standards of living for everyone because suddenly costs went so much lower. Henry Ford mastered something called the division of labor with this assembly line. Labor was cut to its shortest and fastest possible movements by the assembly line that brought the work to the employee and not the other way around. Perfecting
the division of labor and mass production was wonderful then,
but I think it’s all going to change again to something even
better.”
Mr. Melbourne leaned forward. He could not imagine what
Teddy was about to say.
“In all that we’ve been learning in class lately about the
supreme value of human life, doesn’t the idea of physical labor
seem a little like being short-changed? We are the greatest value
in the Universe, for what? To drive a rivet into the rim? No,
our whole business structure is going to change.”
Mr. Melbourne couldn’t wait to hear what this little genius
would say next. “What, Teddy…what do you see coming?”
“I see all jobs of labor changing to jobs of the mind. I’ve
experimented with this idea in my own business, and I’ve proved
it. At first, I trained my sellers, then paid them on a per house
basis, no more, no less. They did the labor, and my company
like most others functioned through this division of labor. Then
I tried something different. I wanted to bring out the creative
powers of my sellers’ minds. So I replicated what I knew, then
I set them up as their own entrepreneurs within my company.
They built their mini-companies within my company and shared
in the profits they made. Suddenly, they started thinking
creatively to sell more…and sell more they did — they nearly
tripled sales!
“The next evolution of business will be businesses
restructuring from jobs of labor into jobs of the mind. Our
workers will no longer be so stagnant like our parents. They’ll
become the value they’re meant to be. I call it the Division of
Essence.”
“Teddy,” Mr. Melbourne said with both hands raised, knowing
he was about to hear something precious, “Why do you call the
next paradigm of business the Division of Essence?”
“The essence of business is to make money. I remember you
telling my Dad that, Miss Annabelle.

174

By setting up workers in
profit-making entrepreneurial jobs of the mind like I have, you’re
no longer dividing business by labor…you’re dividing it by
essence. I believe the reason I’m doing so well is because I’m
using the Division of Essence, a leap beyond the Division of
Labor.”
“Brilliant!” Mr. Melbourne shouted, unable to contain himself.
He knew these kids had normal IQ’s, but they were making
breakthroughs that went beyond other child geniuses with the
highest IQ’s. …He knew he was witnessing the next mentality
of man — Neothink. He silenced his mouth because he did not
want to disrupt this discussion.
“I wish there were some way to bring people to those new
jobs of the mind, right now,” Bobby Chapman said passionately.
“I’d love to see my dad and mom doing something they love
to do. They hate their work. They have most of their lives —
all day long, all week long…what a waste!”
“Teddy, I have a question for you,” Debbie Kirkland said.
“My mom and dad own Kirkland Burger. But they’ve never been
able to expand beyond their two small restaurants. I know they
want to, but they’re stuck. They run the restaurants well, but
they say there’s just not enough profits to expand. I don’t think
they make enough money to even think about franchising. What
do you think they should do?”
“I really can’t say, Debbie,” Teddy answered. “I’ve eaten
there a few times, and they seem to run well. …Maybe the
problem is not the management. Maybe they need a creative
new product or marketing idea. I know that no matter how wellrun my business is, I need to introduce fresh products or fresh
marketing ideas.”
“Man, I love cutting-edge products,” Al Patterson chimed in,
“especially now with so much new stuff coming out with all the
new technologies. Did you read about those microprocessors
they’re coming out with?”
“I’m really excited about what they might be able to do for
my business,” Teddy said. “My tracking reports, my data…I
can’t wait!”
“You’d love my father’s stores in Australia and New York
City,” Mr. Melbourne said. “He always sells new inventions.”

175

“Oh, I love that stuff!” Al said. “I really love new stuff,
especially the new products that I could use someday. I love
reading about new breakthroughs, anything from new medicines
to new cars. I really wish there were some paper or magazine
where I could find all the new stuff coming out. I think business
is cool…I mean, it keeps pumping out these great new products
that’ll save our lives or make life better.”
Miss Annabelle observed a genuine love growing in Al…a
love for business. As she sat there, the realization struck her
that one could emotionally love a business for the values it gives
us.
“I’ll tell you guys something strange, OK?” Rico said, a little
nervously. “OK, my uncle’s spending some time in prison. I
go with my dad to visit him. In the visiting room, there’s lots
of prisoners walking around. I like to study a prisoner, then
ask my uncle why they’re there. I can see something very clearly
about these prisoners now, after all these months. I can tell the
ones who did something really bad like rob someone or worse.
But there’s those other guys who are there but didn’t hurt
nobody.”
Miss Annabelle was fascinated by his story and did not dare
interrupt to correct his double negative.
“What’d they do?” Danny asked.
“They hurt nobody. I don’t know…maybe they didn’t pay
some taxes or maybe they were smoking some weed — you
know, something like that. They hurt nobody, and after awhile,
you can see they don’t belong in prison just because some fuckin’
politician or judge says they should.”
Miss Annabelle jumped at Rico’s use of the “f” word, but
down deep she knew she jumped because Rico’s mind was now
its own authority. He, too, could now see through illusions to
what is.
“Sorry, Miss Annabelle,” Rico said immediately after he
finished, realizing he had startled everyone with the “f” word.
Using the “f” word was part of Rico’s vocabulary all his life.
Every male in his house and neighborhood used the “f” word
in nearly every sentence. But Rico had been determined to break
that habit, and the “f” word now slipped out only occasionally
when he felt angry.

176

“If I was stuck in prison,” Reggie, the black boy in Miss
Annabelle’s class who lived in poverty, said, “I’d spend my time
inventing a new kind of music.”
“What do you mean — a new kind of music?” Natalie asked.
“I love music. I read that classical music is the best music
ever written. But when I listen to the classical radio station, it
puts me to sleep. Then I found out those guys who wrote
classical music lived 200 years ago. Well, no wonder their music
puts me to sleep…they had no technology back then! They had
no electric guitars or amplifiers. So I checked out a Beethoven
album from the library and put it on my mom’s record player
— then I cranked it really loud. I started hitting my drum behind
it. I’ll tell you, I started getting goosebumps! I think that
classical music should be modernized with drums, electric guitars,
and electric violins…amplified like rock ‘n roll. Man, that’d be
the hottest sound out there!”
Suddenly the lunch bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.
“We need to talk about this amazing phenomenon!” Mr.
Melbourne whispered to Miss Annabelle.
The leap in self-thinking among her students really was
phenomenal. But to the students, it seemed completely natural
now. They were all moving ahead toward becoming geniuses
of a different kind…not IQ geniuses, but creative puzzle-building
or Neothink geniuses.
As Miss Annabelle turned to stand, she saw an ugly sight
in stark contrast to the beauty she had just witnessed. She saw
the corpse-like Ms. Minner standing in the lunchroom, looking
directly at her. That’s odd, Miss Annabelle thought. I’ve seen
her a lot lately, now in here. She never comes in here; why
now?

177

That night Mr. Melbourne and Miss Annabelle were like two
excited partners who’d struck it rich. Everything Miss Annabelle
had hoped for was coming true. She knew her students would
make it now, on their own…even if she could never return.
Furthermore, her students were providing immeasurably
valuable confirmation of Mr. Melbourne’s lifetime work on the
mind and mans’ coming “evolutionary jump” into a new mind
of the future.

178

————————
Chapter
Fifteen
————————

Ms. Minner sat up tall and proud as her visitor looked over
the dozens of photos across her desk. She felt deep satisfaction
knowing the “evidence” she had manufactured. She had grown
up in the Bible Belt and was a deeply religious woman, a mystic,
who actually hallucinated conversations with angels. She was
convinced that the lovely Miss Annabelle was the work of Satan
himself, for an angel had sent her that message from God, and
she took personal responsibility to do whatever it took to get
Miss Annabelle removed from her school…and from ever
teaching children again if possible.
“You’ve got some extraordinary pictures here,” her visitor said
in a deep voice, taking his time looking at each one. He
obviously took great pleasure in the pile of pictures. “How did
you get them?”
“With this,” she answered, putting her new hard purse on the
desk. “It’s a camera that looks like a pocketbook.”
“Good work!” he cried out in the little office, taking his eyes
off the pictures for just a second to see the purse. Then his
eyes turned right back to the pictures of Miss Annabelle
affectionately hugging and, in some cases, kissing her students.
“Maybe we’ve discovered why this pretty young thing has
nothing to do with men. Once again, good work!”

179

“Thank you, Mr. Hammerschmidt.”

*

Mr. Hammerschmidt privately, personally hired a private
investigator to find out as much as he could about Miss
Annabelle’s past. He discovered that this pretty woman was the
victim of domestic violence. Hammerschmidt read the hospital
report and the brief article in the Buffalo News on the beating
from her husband that nearly killed her.
The image of that little fearless lioness, being beaten into
submission by a man, went around and around in
Hammerschmidt’s mind. The image terribly aroused him, and
for days he repeatedly relieved himself. He couldn’t stop
thinking about her in uncompromising positions; his private name
for her was now, “my little bitch”.
A week later he was back in the principal’s office with
several of the school board members and an attorney, reviewing
Ms. Minner’s pictures.
“Do you feel this is grounds to hold a school board meeting
on dismissing this teacher on grounds of too much touching and
kissing…too much fondling her students?” Hammerschmidt asked
the attorney. The attorney told them they could go ahead; the
pictures caused enough suspicion to hold a hearing and a vote
on whether Miss Annabelle could continue teaching.
During this informal meeting in Ms. Minner’s office,
Hammerschmidt gave the child-molestation theory traction; he
inflamed the school board members. Hammerschmidt, who had
inwardly gone to the point of perversion with his sexual fantasies
of physically beating Miss Annabelle, suggested she might be a
pervert, which would explain why she had no interest in men.
After the meeting, Hammerschmidt coincidentally passed Miss
Annabelle in the hall going back to her room after lunch. She
saw him a good 15 yards away and decided to ignore him.
Unless he addressed her, she would just keep walking.
Because of this plan, she was extra aware of his every
move…in case he did greet her politely, she would want to
respond. She watched him closely in her peripheral vision.
Hammerschmidt got very excited as they walked closer to
each other, seeing her tiny body while imagining it being hit by
a man.

180

Just before he was next to her, he quietly closed his
hand closest to her into a fist. It was a subtle, almost
disregardable event. But Miss Annabelle quietly gasped.
Hammerschmidt detected her quiet yet unmistakable reaction. He
turned into the next boys’ room, locked himself in a stall, and
almost instantly relieved himself at the touch of his hand. As
his own perversion grew to a new level, he cursed beneath his
breath how this “little bitch” must not inflict her perversions on
innocent children.

*

“The final two weeks in February, twenty-seven years ago,
were the finest in Miss Annabelle’s teaching career,” Jessie said,
continuing the story. “From then on, everything fell into disarray
and then disaster.”
Looking directly at Jake, Angie began telling him the
beginning of the end:
“Midday, the first of March, Miss Annabelle missed the lunch
hour for the first time since her tradition with the kids began.
In the halls, she told John Melbourne she wouldn’t be there.
Instead, she went to see my husband…”

*

“Hi Jessie,” the pretty lady said at the same instance she
tapped the busy custodian on his shoulder.
“Whoa!” Jessie shouted as he turned around. “Anna…I mean
Miss Annabelle, you startled me!”
“Sorry Jessie. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I guess I
kinda feel like I need to be sneaky right now.”
“Why, what’s wrong?” Jessie asked. He could see that Miss
Annabelle was disturbed about something.
“This,” she said. She handed him another summons for
another emergency school board meeting. “I just want to know
if you’ve come across anything that can help me…maybe some
clue or some papers on her desk or in her trash.”
Miss Annabelle was visibly upset. Jessie suddenly felt
fatherly feelings toward her as he saw how vulnerable she looked.

181

He put his arm around her and took her to his little room, sat
her down, and closed the door.
“Does John know yet?” he asked her.
“Not yet,” she said, wiping her eyes. Jessie handed her a
box of tissues. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, then
continued, “I haven’t had a private moment with him yet to tell
him, and I don’t want anyone seeing us alone together.”
“OK. Let me read this,” Jessie said calmly. The summons
said:
A Closed-Door
Emergency School-Board Meeting
Wednesday, March 3rd at 5:15 p.m.
To All Parties: Please note that a closed-door meeting is in
best interest of all parties involved.
Subject: Miss Annabelle’s Employment
Jessie looked at Miss Annabelle. He felt sorry for her for
having to even deal with these attacks.
“What do you think it is this time?” he asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said. She looked lost. “We haven’t
gotten into anything about God or government since the last
meeting in January. …That’s what’s bothering me so much —
I don’t know what this meeting is about.”
“Neither do I,” Jessie said. He dropped his eyes. “I haven’t
seen anything about it, but I’ll be looking, you can bet on it.”
“Hammerschmidt scares me,” Miss Annabelle said in a
moment of weakness.
“What!” Jessie was surprised. “You handled that creep both
times; you made a fool of him. And the parents like you.”
“Why do I feel that won’t matter this time?” Miss Annabelle
softly asked. “They’ve got something on me…but what could
it be? What could it be? And why do I keep seeing those
creepy people?”
“Who?” Jessie asked.
“Minner and Hammerschmidt!”
“Anna, how are your students coming along?” he asked.
She looked up slowly and her face brightened, “Oh, they’re amazing.

182

They’re going to new levels, Jessie. Even if I weren’t
allowed back to class, my students give new meaning to having
minds of their own. They’re going to live with a different
mentality than their peers. My students will build new knowledge
for the world through building never-before-seen puzzle-pictures.”
“I know,” Jessie said. “I listen to all the general lectures.
Some of the projects some of those kids are building just blow
my mind. Some of them are becoming geniuses!”
“Jessie, you know what? You’ve just cheered me up,” Miss
Annabelle looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Annabelle…Angie and I, we love you. You’re our best
friend, and we believe in what you’re doing.”
“I know,” she said. She stood up. She leaned forward and
gave Jessie a kiss on the cheek and said, “I can feel you and
Angie giving me strength at these school-board meetings. I wish
you could be there this time.”
“We’ll be there,” Jessie said.
“But the note specifically said it’s a CLOSED meeting.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to stop my wife?” They both
laughed.
“I’d better get back to class,” Miss Annabelle said, looking
at her watch and feeling much better.
“Before you go, tell me, how are things going with you and
John?” Jessie whispered. No one at Duncan Elementary knew
about their romantic relationship except Jessie.
“Oh, it’s beautiful…he’s beautiful!” she whispered back.
“Angie says your eyes tell her everything…you’re in love!”
They both laughed again. “Anna…Angie and I’ve been wanting
to spend a little time with you and John. Let’s all get together
tomorrow; it’ll be good for us to feel like a team going into the
meeting Wednesday.”
“I’d love that, Jessie.”
“See if you and John can come over around seven o’clock.
We’ll have dinner at our place, and we’ll talk.”
“I’m glad I talked to you. Thank you. You and Angie are
special. …See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”

183

John Melbourne stayed at Miss Annabelle’s home most nights
now. Their schedules were very compatible. After completing
their school papers, he worked on his book and she worked on
her lectures. But the three hours immediately after they left
school belonged to enjoying each other. They could do anything
they wanted in their fun-time together. They always ate dinner
together, and they did a number of other things that included
working out together at the gym, going to the mall together,
going to art shows, craft festivals, going to movies, to the theater,
to the park, jogging together, riding bikes, picnics, playing tennis,
visiting Jessie and Angie, grocery shopping…anything to be
together. When they got back home, they’d get into their evening
work.
Tonight they were going to Jessie and Angie’s house to have
dinner and talk. Of course, their minds were on the school-board
meeting the next day. As they were changing to casual clothes,
John said, “I’m coming to the meeting.”
“But they’ll figure out about us if you come,” Miss Annabelle
said. She wanted him there; she needed him there. But she
also wanted to protect him. She did not want him to become a
target, too.
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” he said calmly. “It really
doesn’t. You’re my woman, and I want to be there.”
“And you’re my Prince Charming,” she said, jumping
playfully into his arms. They laughed. …He was right. To
hell with trying to keep their romance a secret. It felt so good
to be able to laugh with him, even when she faced the worst
crisis of her life. They left the house with high spirits. Outside
on the steps, Miss Annabelle slipped, and he grabbed her arm.
“Just like our first date,” she said, and they laughed some more.
They felt good; they were excited to visit Jessie and Angie.
They arrived at the bright little house feeling full of fun and
games. Jessie and Angie came out on the doorsteps to greet
them. Immediately all four were laughing about something.
God, I love this sound of us all laughing, Miss Annabelle
thought. I hope it always stays like this.
That night, Jessie, Angie, and John decided to be at the
meeting no matter what was said to them. Miss Annabelle felt
they were a team, a strong team. With them there, my lover
and my two best friends, she thought, I will not lose.

184

The next morning Miss Annabelle woke up nervous. What
are they investigating? she wondered. Her nervousness subsided
when she was with her class. But it came back after school let
out. Jessie and John came to her room to be with her. They,
too, felt nervous but tried not to show it.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she said. “They could
fire me, which would end my teaching career. But at least my
students are past the point of no return. I have pushed them
into the Neothink mentality.” That thought, and that thought
alone, relaxed Miss Annabelle. She explained her confidence in
her students to John and Jessie. They relaxed some, too.
The meeting would start in two hours in the school
auditorium, which Miss Annabelle thought was a large location
considering it was a closed meeting. John stayed with Miss
Annabelle, and soon Jessie returned with Angie. They sat around
talking about her students and the progress they’ve made.
After about thirty minutes of this, Angie said, “Anna, you’re
a hero. You are a hero! What they’re doing to you is so upside-down!”
“That’s because Anna’s a hero,” John said while nodding.
“Albert Einstein said, ‘Great spirits have always encountered
violent opposition from mediocre minds.’ Annabelle,” John looked
into her eyes, “in that meeting, you remember what you’ve done
for those twelve kids. You’ve led them to the new mind of the
future!”

*

At five o’clock, Annabelle Barclays, John Melbourne, Jessie
and Angie Attison walked into the auditorium together. Tension
filled the large room. Miss Annabelle looked to the front and
saw Hammerschmidt and Minner looking over some papers.
Most of the school board had arrived and were already seated.
The four walked down the aisle together; their hearts were
beating fast. Ms. Minner glanced up at them and tapped
Hammerschmidt’s arm.

185

He looked up and saw the four
approaching the front. He instinctively attacked, “I’m sorry, you
three will have to leave. This is a closed meeting.”
John answered politely, “Sir, we’re just going to quietly
observe the proceedings here today. My name is John
Melbourne, and I teach here. Jessie Attison is the school’s
custodian and this is his wife, Angie. Honestly, sir, Miss
Annabelle is entitled to a little support, isn’t she?”
Although a rhetorical question, Hammerschmidt snapped, “No,
I’m sorry. This is a closed meeting.” He did not know Miss
Annabelle had a man in her life, and the possibility that this
handsome Melbourne was romantically connected to Miss
Annabelle sent waves of envy and anger through the stocky
superintendent.
“You have your little closed-door meeting, mister,” Angie
said, “But when those doors close, we’ll be right here.” Angie
leaned over and gave Miss Annabelle a kiss on the cheek,
whispered something in her ear, then sat down in the front row.
Jessie and John smiled warmly at Miss Annabelle, and they sat
down too. Hammerschmidt looked at them for a moment.
Before he had a chance to object, John Melbourne said, “You
can have us watch — and we’re harmless — or you can have
her attorney accompany her. It’s your choice.”
Hammerschmidt thought about it for a moment, then gave up
the fight. Miss Annabelle took her seat at the solo chair and
small table facing the school board, still without a clue as to
what this was about. As she sat there, she noticed a man sitting
in the vacant audience seats toward the very back, in the
shadows. She strained to see who it was, but it was too dark.
She put a hand over her eyes to block the glare of the lights.
Still, she could not make him out.
“Let’s get started!” Hammerschmidt shouted. “Miss
Annabelle, we all know each other now. So, the best way to
handle this is to start the meeting with a slide show. As they
say, a picture’s worth a thousand words. We’ll talk after the
show. Lights please!”
Someone dimmed the lights and the slide projector illuminated
the screen at the front of the room. Miss Annabelle looked to
her left and smiled as she saw a picture of Sally and herself
puckering up for big hug and kiss.

186

Although a close-up, Miss
Annabelle knew by the dress, the picture was taken at Sally’s
birthday party.
After a moment, the slide changed, and there was Miss
Annabelle again in a tight embrace with Cathy. The next slide
showed her hugging Teddy in the lunchroom. Then another
showing her hugging Ian at the school’s science fair. …What
is this? she wondered. Who took all those pictures? After a
dozen more pictures of her hugging her students, the slide show
ended and the lights came on.
“Miss Annabelle, you’re the only teacher here who does that,”
Hammerschmidt said.
“Does what?” she asked, quite confused.
“Miss Annabelle, do you realize, you’re the only teacher here
who physically touches, hugs, even kisses these nine-year-olds.”
“I really do love them. I’ve got no children of my own, and
I’ve become very attached to them. …What are you saying,
anyway?”
“After seeing the complete library of pictures, the school
board must review and decide the terms of your employment,”
Hammerschmidt said, trying to sound diplomatic.
“We must also review the conditions, as they pertain to your
teaching license, under these circumstances,” Ms. Minner added.
“What circumstances?” Miss Annabelle asked emphatically.
Visibly upset and shaking, she said, “This is the most disgusting
show of vindictiveness; I couldn’t have thought of this line of
attack, even in my worst fears of what was going to take place
here today! Tell me, how does one defend oneself against this
sort of accusation? You have pictures of me hugging these
children. I hug them because I care…I LOVE THEM!
Everything I do, I’m thinking about them. I feel their pains; I
share their victories. Sally’s mother is dying, which has brought
us all closer together. Since Sally’s birthday party, the hugging
began. …What do you want from me? Why can’t you just leave
me alone to teach these children?” Miss Annabelle knew she was
going to cry as her eyes filled with tears. She looked at
Hammerschmidt. She could not know that Hammerschmidt was
aroused while watching her little body quivering, broken, and
about to cry…secretly imagining her this way during “a good
beating”.

187

But her subconscious picked up something
overwhelmingly eerie at the way he was looking back at her.
A woman’s instinct instructed her from within to get out of there.
She stood up and ran out of the room. Crying and disoriented,
she could not see well and the entire right side of her torso hit
the doorway hard and knocked her back and spun her halfway
around. Her line of sight landed directly on the mysterious figure
who was sitting in the shadows. She was close enough to see
his face, smiling victoriously. It was Burke!
John was running after her and calling her, but she staggered
out. Just before John left the auditorium exit, he turned around
and shouted at Hammerschmidt, “You’ll pay for this, you bastard!
I’ll personally make sure of that!”
Outside, John caught up with Miss Annabelle. She was
leaning face forward against his car, crying uncontrollably. He
turned her around and hugged her. She leaned into him and
buried her face into his chest. Her hands were shaking severely
as she grabbed him and hysterically gasped, “Oh John, oh John,
what have they done! What have they done!”
He hugged her tightly. Her whole body was shivering. What
have they done? he wondered. Jessie and Angie came out. “Oh,
baby,” Angie said as she reached over and rubbed Miss
Annabelle’s back. Jessie was hot with anger, but he stayed calm.
Miss Annabelle could not stop crying. “Let it out, let it all out,”
Angie urged in a gentle, maternal voice.
All four got in John’s Chrysler. Angie and Miss Annabelle
sat in the back. Angie put her arm around Miss Annabelle who
was leaning forward, still crying into a tissue pressed against her
face.
“Please, take me home, John.” Miss Annabelle said in a
terribly sad voice.
When they arrived, all four went into the living room. Miss
Annabelle had regained some of her composure and sat down.
Angie went into the kitchen and made coffee. John sat on the
arm of the chair next to Miss Annabelle and held her hand.
Jessie sat across from them on the couch.
“Is this it? Am I fired?” Miss Annabelle blurted, still in a
state of shock.
“No, darling,” John said reassuringly, “there’s protocol to
follow.

188

It’ll take three months before anything like that could
happen. That would get you through the end of the school year.”
Miss Annabelle immediately relaxed. She even managed a
slight smile. She had told herself before the meeting that her
students had their own minds now, but from the moment she ran
out of the meeting, she had the horrifying thought that she would
not be able to teach her students again. The most wonderful
music to her ears was what John had just said: she would be
able to finish out the school year.
He knew she wanted to hear those words, too. But he said
those words with sincerity. In fact, the past two days he did a
lot of research on protocol and talked in depth with his lawyer,
preparing for the worst. He did not tell Miss Annabelle of his
research so as not to worry her. He also had no clue on what
the meeting would be about, but he suspected it would be
significant as she had twice previously battled and beaten the
school board, and they were not going to be embarrassed again.
He let go of Miss Annabelle’s hand and stood up. He walked
over and put his hand on the mantle over the fireplace and leaned
his weight forward. Looking at the ground, he thought for a
moment and then said, “We must throw a log on their tracks to
slow them down.”
He hesitated because he knew what he was going to say next
would upset her. After a moment, he turned around and said,
“Anna, we must reveal our love affair to show that you’re a
normal, heterosexual woman.”
Her face crumbled, revealing the pain again that was eating
away inside her. Two tears raced down her mascara-stained
cheeks, and she struggled to speak. Her words came out in slow
motion. Her voice was filled with the devastation of a violated
soul; a devastation only a woman knows. She had to fight with
her mouth to speak and pronounce these words, “I have to be
sleeping with a man to be sexually normal?”
John walked over, knelt before her, and took her hand. “My
love,” he said, “they’re going to create this horrible illusion about
you. We need to slow them down. It’s an unfair, rotten thing
to have to prove your innocence, but you have little choice. You
must fight back, Anna.”
Miss Annabelle was quiet.

189

“He’s right, Anna,” Jessie said. “This is a war. Your kids
can’t lose you. If you do what John’s saying, there’s no way
they could take you away from the kids before the school year
ends.”
Angie walked in with the coffee. They all sat down and
sipped, their minds hard at work.
“What about filing a lawsuit for defamation of character?”
Angie asked.
Miss Annabelle looked up and quietly said, “A lawsuit
centered on child molestation.” She paused, gathering her
thoughts, then continued, “That’d bring my kids under the type
of questioning that’d undermine the one person who must have
complete credibility in their eyes — me. I don’t want to undo
what I’ve done for those kids. …Oh, that Hammerschmidt is a
sick man!”
Her pain was turning to anger. “I wish I could make him
feel the hurt he’s put in me! God, I feel violated!” John sat
next to her and rubbed his hand down her hair. “We’ll fix this,”
he assured her.
“I’ve got an idea,” Jessie said, lifting his eyes from the floor
to look at John and Miss Annabelle. Angie, who was sitting
next to him, put her coffee on the end table, then turned and
put her hand on Jessie’s lap, giving him her undivided attention
as he said, “I think we should hurt him.”
“What do you mean?” John asked.
“A man like that has done some awful things; he’s proven
that by what he’s doing to Anna. He’s got no principles. Now,
I heard something on the radio today, just before the school board
meeting, and it shouldn’t surprise you: Brian Petersen announced
his democratic candidacy for governor, and guess who’s his
running mate for lieutenant governor?”
“Hammerschmidt?” John responded instantly, in an I-knew-it tone of voice.
“You got it,” Jessie said, “and he’s going to put his wrath
on Anna to get some media attention and win some votes. We
must stop him. We need to dig up some dirt on this scum and
make a private little offer: he drops his investigation of Anna,
and we don’t take our dirt to the local media.”
“I like it Jessie,”

190

John said. “He’s darn clever, but if we
can find a skeleton or two in his closet, I’ll personally handle
it. I’ll start tomorrow; I’ll meet with a private investigator. I’ll
also put together an affidavit detailing our romantic relationship.
…How do you feel about all this, Love?”
Miss Annabelle looked up at John. “I’ll do anything to keep
teaching through the end of the school year,” she said, obviously
worn out emotionally and physically. “And I’m all for finding
out whatever we can about Hammerschmidt’s past.” She looked
at John, Jessie, and Angie and said, “Thank you, so much, for
all that you’re doing for me. I think what I need right now is
to think about my kids and how this might affect them. I need
to really concentrate for a couple of hours…alone.”
“We understand, dear,” Angie said, getting up and gathering
the coffee cups. When she returned from depositing the cups
in the kitchen sink, she asked Miss Annabelle if she could fix
her something to eat.
“I’ll make a sandwich or something later,” Miss Annabelle
said, smiling. “Thank you for being here.”
John said he’d take Jessie and Angie back to their car at the
school, then go home for a couple of hours. He wanted to work
on the affidavit. He hugged her and said he’d be back around
ten o’clock.
“I love you,” Miss Annabelle whispered, and she hugged him
tight.

191

————————
Chapter
Sixteen
————————

March was a painful and humiliating time for Miss Annabelle.
She was allowed to continue teaching, but a member of the
faculty had to sit in her room and observe at all times.
At first, the children did not talk much. They inherently
knew the stranger sitting in their world did not belong there.
After a couple of days, however, the children forgot she was even
there.
While the world around Miss Annabelle seemed insane, she
found peace and sanity in her classroom and in her private world
with John. In fact, for most of her day, she was in a world of
rationality — surrounded by her students during the day and by
John in the evenings and nights. She kept enormously busy after
school developing her lectures around her paperwork. If not for
the looming threat of losing her students to these trumped-up
charges, she realized her life would be wonderful. So, she
determined not to let the insane charges drag her down. She
decided to, instead, enjoy every precious moment with her
students as if it were the last. Every morning she prepared
herself mentally to feel and enjoy the preciousness of rational,
happy life. Caught in this topsy-turvy world, she discovered the
rightness of happiness.

192

When she arrived at school Thursday morning after the
emergency meeting, Miss Annabelle opened the envelope on her
desk. It was from Ms. Minner, and it read:
“We understand that you left the meeting due to the sensitive
topic. However, we must proceed with this matter. The school
board must meet with you to get your story. That’s the American
way. We will meet again next Wednesday, same place and time.
Again, it is a private meeting, but you may bring Mr. Melbourne
and Mr. and Mrs. Attison if you so desire.”
Miss Annabelle realized this nightmare would not go away.
As she put the summons down, an eerie thought rushed through
her: What if my students and their parents hear about these
accusations? The thought made her shudder.

*

The next morning, Cathy walked into the classroom first,
about 10 minutes before the others. Only a little fluffy and
round, but certainly no longer fat, one could see her pretty
features. She walked directly to Miss Annabelle. Her bright
blue eyes looked concerned, and she was not smiling. Her
expression revealed the natural beauty of her face that, not long
ago, was diluted by fat. She has high cheek bones, Miss
Annabelle noticed.
“Good morning Cathy,” Miss Annabelle said smiling. But
she knew something was wrong.
“Hi,” Cathy said. But her full pink lips frowned. “Why is
my mom calling people on the phone and talking bad about
you?”
“Oh, what’s she saying?” Miss Annabelle managed to say
cheerfully, yet fearing what she would hear.
“I don’t know. Something about you being in the paper.”
Just then Teddy walked in.
“Hi Teddy,” Cathy said in a low voice.
Teddy walked to the front of the room. “Hi Cathy,” he said.
Then he looked at his teacher and said, “I read the article about
you in this morning’s paper. I know it’s a bunch of lies and
so does my dad.”

193

Miss Annabelle’s heart dropped. An article in the paper?
“What does the article say?” she asked Teddy, then wishing
she hadn’t.
“It says you’re being questioned by the school board for
misconduct — for possible child molestation. One man says that
if it’s true, he would remove you from teaching here, and that
scared me.”
Miss Annabelle felt enormous pain inside but tried not to
show it. The evil was catching up to her and now seemed bigger
than her. These children do not even understand sex, she
thought, yet here they’re going to be introduced to the idea of
child molestation!
“Yeah, that’s what my mom was telling her friends. What
do they mean by that, anyway?” Cathy asked innocently. Miss
Annabelle was suddenly confronted with her greatest fear: to have
to present this horrific thought to her students.
“Cathy, I don’t know how to explain it to you yet,” Miss
Annabelle said honestly. “But I will answer that question for
you and maybe for the whole class tomorrow after I’ve had time
to think about it.”
When the other students came in, there was a lot of talk
among each other, which made it clear that talk was everywhere.
“Class,” Miss Annabelle began, introducing some control, “I’m
going to make the same deal with you that I made with Cathy
earlier. A lot of people have read or been told about an article
about me in this morning’s paper. I have not seen it yet, but I
hear some pretty bad things were written about me. Tomorrow
I’ll talk about it with you after I’ve had some time to look at
the paper and think things over.”
“Miss Annabelle, are they going to make you leave?” Rico
asked in such a sad voice from such a macho little man that he
almost made Miss Annabelle cry.
“The good news, Rico, is that I was able to teach you
wonderful children for six months, and you are already, on your
own, seeing through illusions to the essence of things…to what
is. And by doing that, you’re starting to build new knowledge
and real power. That was my goal when we started this school
year.”

194

“Are you going to keep on teaching us?” Jeremiah asked very
sadly.
“I’m certainly going to do everything in my power,” Miss
Annabelle said, feeling a lump growing in her throat.
“Can we still get a hug from you sometimes?” Sally asked
slowly.
Miss Annabelle’s eyes flooded with emotions. She looked
over at the woman sitting in her room whose name Miss
Annabelle did not even remember, then Miss Annabelle looked
back at Sally and said, “Yes, Sally. Whenever you need a hug,
I’d love one. I love our hugs, too.”

*

John Melbourne gave Miss Annabelle the paper at lunch. The
article was on the front page of the local section with a picture
of her hugging and kissing an unidentified student. Of course,
Miss Annabelle immediately recognized the student was Alan,
and she knew it happened at Sally’s birthday party.

*

Later that evening Sally’s mother called and said she had sent
Ms. Minner pictures of the party for the school’s yearbook. She
said she knew these accusations were ridiculous. With her
terminal condition, Sally’s mom saw the bigger picture of life
now and talked to Miss Annabelle for about forty-five minutes.
She also told Miss Annabelle how indebted she felt toward her
for shaping Sally’s mind so dramatically…and for helping Sally
prepare for her loss.
The call was exactly what Miss Annabelle needed after seeing
the article. The villain was Hammerschmidt. He was behind
the article. As is the case in the world of politics, the villain
came across looking like the hero. Hammerschmidt, pressing for
public exposure to gear up his race for Lieutenant Governor of
New York, repeatedly made a point to assure the people of New
York that “…if something insidious is occurring in my school
system, I personally will not stop until that filth is removed and
the school is restored to a wholesome environment.”

195

Also accompanying the article was a picture of Hammerschmidt with
a caption that read, “Wholesome minded: School Board
Superintendent, Charlie Hammerschmidt, will run for Lieutenant
Governor on the Brian Petersen ticket this November.”

*

Miss Annabelle’s answering machine had seven messages
when she had arrived home. Six were from the media: three
calls from the local newspaper, two from New York radio
stations, and one from the television news! She took her phone
off the hook and got to work on her explanation for her class.
They needed to understand.

*

Miss Annabelle looked closely at her twelve students. They
look like little adults, she thought. Their eyes show me the
strength of human beings in control. And that control over life
comes from efficiently seeing what is. This Friday morning, my
innocent children will learn a lesson about the irrational world
that awaits them.
Today, Miss Annabelle would turn the calamity that
surrounded her into an opportunity to further develop her
students’ defenses against imminent irrationality in their futures.
She began with a metaphor:
“Forty thousand years ago, animals of all kinds would come
to the ponds to drink and cool off. When they waded in certain
ponds, however, the animals got stuck, unable to leave. You
see, some ponds were illusions. They were actually tar pits, and
the poor animals that got stuck would slowly sink in the tar to
their deaths.
“That man, Mr. Hammerschmidt, is like one of those tar pits,
and I’m caught. He seems like an oasis of fresh water. You
saw his picture in the paper. Like any politician, he looks for
any opportunity to create an illusion that’ll give him an
advantage. But his illusion pulls good people down. Put another
way, to push himself up falsely, he must push good people
down…down into his tar pit. I’m one of those good persons
being pushed down, and, I’m sorry to say, so are you.

196

“In general, when politicians look like they’re doing public
good, it’s a vote-gathering illusion. Good people get stuck. In
the end, everyone is stuck in limited economies.
“Hammerschmidt is a politician and a tar pit. But your
parents and most others will see him as an oasis. He will pull
people down on his way up in politics. We’re the first of many
to come.
“I was forced into contact with Hammerschmidt in our schoolboard meetings and became caught in his deceptive pit. The
article in yesterday’s paper was his illusion — the oasis the
public will see.”
“Why is he so bad?” a disturbed Natasha asked.
“I can answer that,” Danny said, looking at Miss Annabelle,
who nodded permission. “Remember when we all went camping
at the beginning of the year?” Several of the children smiled
while recalling that fun time. “I remember Miss Annabelle telling
us what makes people happy.”
“Yeah, making values,” Teddy contributed. “It sure makes me
happy!”
“What would happen if grown ups did not make values?”
Danny continued. “They’d become unhappy people. I now read
the newspapers a lot, and I don’t think politicians are really
making any values. I think they’re unhappy people, and that’s
why they’re so bad.”
Miss Annabelle smiled inside at the profound insight into the
human psyche.
“It’s called self-esteem, Danny,” Miss Annabelle said, adding
the final touches to his observation. “Self-esteem is how a person
feels about himself. If he feels bad about himself, he’ll often
do bad things. If he feels a lacking self-esteem, he’ll often create
illusions so people will like him and give him a sense of
importance. But, since he’s not making values for the people,
he’ll have to steal his sense of importance from those who earned
it — namely from good working people, especially those
important entrepreneurs and market businessmen. Politicians will
make the biggest value producers, the best of the good people,
look like bad people who must be controlled by ‘public
servants’…the politicians…the ‘good’ people.

197

Controlling truly good people is how politicians get their power and sense of importance, which they substitute for self-esteem.”
“You’re a good person, a value producer, and Mr.
Hammerschmidt is a bad person, a lying politician. He’s making
you look bad and himself look good, right?” Danny asked.
“Right,” Miss Annabelle said.
“That makes him a value destroyer,” Danny said with
conviction.

*

Later that afternoon when the kids were outside for recess,
Natasha bolted through Miss Annabelle’s classroom door.
“Miss Annabelle,” Natasha cried, “Danny’s in a fight!”
Miss Annabelle and Natasha ran out to the schoolyard. Mr.
Kenny, a fifth grade teacher, had the two boys separated. Miss
Annabelle ran over and saw a lot of blood coming out of
Danny’s badly battered nose. She recognized the other boy, who
seemed unhurt. He was the older boy from the lunchroom whose
father worked for the EPA.
“I need to take Danny to the nurse,” Miss Annabelle said.
She took his arm and acted quickly. She was nervous about how
profusely he was bleeding. Mr. Kenny nodded as Miss Annabelle
took Danny’s arm. She rushed Danny into the restroom and
wetted a number of paper towels and pressed them against his
nose.
“Hold these here, sweetheart,” she said. Then off they rushed
to the school nurse.
A few minutes later, the nurse had stopped his nosebleed.
His nose was not broken, but it was badly bruised.
“What happened out there?” Miss Annabelle asked Danny.
“Oh…well…um…I slugged that big kid. Then he beat me
up. But I hit him pretty good, too, you know.”
Miss Annabelle could not believe what she was hearing. She
could not imagine Danny hauling off and slugging anybody…and
that boy looked like he was two years older, six inches taller,
and at least fifteen pounds heavier.
“Why did you slug him?” Miss Annabelle asked.
“Well…I don’t think I should tell you,” Danny said
protectively.

198

“Tell me,” his teacher said firmly. She looked straight into
his eyes.
“He…he called you a pervert. Damn, I hate that punk!”
Miss Annabelle could not help feeling touched by Danny’s
courage and passion. He’s my little knight in shining armor,
she thought, smiling inwardly.
At the end of the schoolday, Miss Annabelle had a private
talk with Danny. As they were looked upon by the school
observer, Miss Annabelle quietly explained why we must never
cross the line and physically strike someone, no matter how
powerful our emotions get. Danny looked so humble and sweet
as she talked to him, like a little warrior with his face all bruised
from his gallant defense of her honor. She couldn’t take it
anymore and leaned over and hugged him. “Thank you,” she
said. “But don’t do that again, okay?”
“I won’t, Miss Annabelle,” he said innocently. He turned
his head and gave Miss Annabelle a kiss on her cheek, then
turned his little body around and walked out of the room.
Miss Annabelle watched her little hero, her eyes filling with
tears of love. A moment or two after Danny was gone, a noise
made Miss Annabelle suddenly remember the school observer
who was looking at her. Feeling vulnerable and violated, Miss
Annabelle snapped, “To hell with you and your superiors!”
The school observer got up to leave. On her way out she
said, “I for one have seen nothing to report…nothing at all.” The
middle-aged woman then flashed a kind smile at Miss Annabelle.
Surprised by this woman’s decency in the indecent setting
brought more sensitive feelings rushing to the surface. Miss
Annabelle could not speak, but her teary eyes said, “Thank you!”
The kind woman nodded knowingly and left the classroom.
Miss Annabelle dropped her face into her hands, and wept.

199

————————
Chapter
Seventeen
————————

The private investigator who Mr. Melbourne hired came
through with gold. He dug up three assault arrests in domestic
disputes — one with Hammerschmidt’s former girlfriend and two
with his ex-wife. Moreover, the P.I. learned that
Hammerschmidt, a former IRS auditor, had tried to pay off some
officials to get these assaults removed from his record. Miss
Annabelle’s lawyer, a professional poker strategist, said to not
use this to control Hammerschmidt until after the meeting later
that month. “The train is too much in motion to stop,” her
lawyer said. “So we’ll control it later, when we see everything
they have to use.”
Another good thing happened for Miss Annabelle. The yearly
aptitude tests had come back, and Miss Annabelle’s students
scored phenomenally beyond their years, even beyond nearly all
of the sixth graders! Natasha had the highest score in the school
— the first time a third grader held that honor at Duncan
Elementary School. Moreover, the local media picked up the
story. Mr. Melbourne knew the national media would be
interested, too. But Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne decided
not to submit the story when one editor in the local paper opened
his article with, “Miss Annabelle: a Miracle or a Monster?”
National media attention on the molestation charges would
disintegrate her class.

200

The private investigator who Mr. Melbourne hired came
through with gold. He dug up three assault arrests in domestic
disputes — one with Hammerschmidt’s former girlfriend and two
with his ex-wife. Moreover, the P.I. learned that
Hammerschmidt, a former IRS auditor, had tried to pay off some
officials to get these assaults removed from his record. Miss
Annabelle’s lawyer, a professional poker strategist, said to not
use this to control Hammerschmidt until after the meeting later
that month. “The train is too much in motion to stop,” her
lawyer said. “So we’ll control it later, when we see everything
they have to use.”
Another good thing happened for Miss Annabelle. The yearly
aptitude tests had come back, and Miss Annabelle’s students
scored phenomenally beyond their years, even beyond nearly all
of the sixth graders! Natasha had the highest score in the school
— the first time a third grader held that honor at Duncan
Elementary School. Moreover, the local media picked up the
story. Mr. Melbourne knew the national media would be
interested, too. But Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne decided
not to submit the story when one editor in the local paper opened
his article with, “Miss Annabelle: a Miracle or a Monster?”
National media attention on the molestation charges would
disintegrate her class.

*

Ostensibly for Miss Annabelle’s sake, Mr. Hammerschmidt
closed the meeting to the press. He maintained its private status.
In reality, always the politician, he was worried about what this
unpredictable little lady might spring on him. He did not want
anything to surprise him that could hurt his forthcoming political
run.

201

Before this past month, Miss Annabelle did not know much
about Hammerschmidt. She was not surprised to learn he was
once an IRS accountant and agent for the Criminal Investigation
Division. He liked to go along on raids “for the sport of it”.
And although a senior accountant, he loved carrying a gun and
had been known to use his fists during a CID raid. He was a
heartless yet intelligent man, a prime combination for politics.
Void of principles and a skilled, automatic liar for whatever
pragmatic advantage he could gain, this man represented the
epitome of a political animal. His serious political career was
just beginning with his run for Lieutenant Governor of New
York. He was forty-one years old.
Now, the night of the school board meeting, the press waited
outside the school, which was perfect for Hammerschmidt who
was becoming an effective spin doctor. He arrived early and
stopped to talk to the press and pose for pictures.
“Crimes on children will not be tolerated under my
jurisdiction in the great state of New York,” he proclaimed.
“Having served as superintendent of the school board, the
children will always come first and foremost in my heart. I’ll
remain their guardian angel as your lieutenant governor.”
Someone from the press murmured, “Oh, he’s good.”
Miss Annabelle and her small team arrived. She commented
to John how surreal it all seemed — like a Hollywood event,
walking past reporters and TV cameras. John kept Miss
Annabelle moving through the small crowd. Miss Annabelle
heard a few people in the back jeering her, while a few others
were clapping. I wonder who’s clapping, she wondered.
Inside, she did not feel so nervous this time. Instead, she
felt well prepared. She reminded herself that Hammerschmidt
and his sidekick Minner were her enemies, not the entire school
board. The others will be objective, she said to herself; they’re
the ones I’m addressing with my evidence of innocence.
The meeting started. Mr. Hammerschmidt started the
proceedings, then Ms. Minner said, “Today, Miss Annabelle, we
are here to see your side of the situation. This meeting is merely
a continuation of the last meeting. You know what our concerns
and suspicions are. What do you offer in response to all those
photographs of you being overly intimate with your students?”

202

Miss Annabelle looked at Ms. Minner. This all seemed too
fair: they’re giving me a chance to show my side? These people
don’t do that, she thought. They have something up their sleeves.
“Let’s start with a few pictures of my own,” Miss Annabelle
finally said. “John, would you dim the lights please?”
Hammerschmidt did not look too happy to see the first slide
illuminated on the screen: the football coach with his hand on
one of his player’s behind.
“If those photos were supposed to incriminate me for child
molestation, then the next few photos will incriminate Coach
Norton for molesting boys,” she said bluntly. The next slide
showed the coach hugging a boy, and the next showed him
picking up a boy in an elated bear hug. “Of course, these photos
are nothing more than the coach celebrating with his players after
a big play, but my point is: by taking the photos out of context,
unjust conclusions can be construed. I hugged Alan at a birthday
party; Coach hugged his quarterback after a touchdown. But
neither one of us is a child molester.”
Miss Annabelle went through a whole slide show of teachers
on the playground, coaches on the field, faculty in the classrooms
touching the students.
She noticed Hammerschmidt was not happy. But he did not
look at all defeated, which concerned her. …She knew she and
her team were in a prize fight with Hammerschmidt and Minner.
The rest of the school board were the judges. Her photos hit
him hard, but not hard enough. She wondered, what kind of
rabbit punch is he waiting to deliver?
Next, Miss Annabelle read John Melbourne’s affidavit. It was
well done and left little doubt that she was no manless, child
pervert. It hit Hammerschmidt hard, but he was not down and
out. He had concocted something big, a big knockout blow, and
Miss Annabelle decided she had better save the children’s essays
for a counter punch if she was going to stand a chance.
“That’s it,” she said, surprising everyone on her team. “I’m
a normal woman who has been misjudged and misrepresented
to the media, putting me under a lot of unnecessary pain. You
should stop now this investigation that is so unjust. No one
should have to live through this.”

203

Miss Annabelle sat down. Angie leaned forward to ask her
about the essays, but Miss Annabelle nodded that she knew she
had not revealed them. Her instincts proved right on.
“Thank you, Miss Annabelle,” her stocky foe said. “We’ll
deeply consider everything you presented here today. Before we
adjourn, however, I feel we must hear from your very own
students. Their words outweigh anything else we can bring to
this meeting. Those children are the innocent. They pay the
price. This afternoon, during your students’ last period — at
art class — Ms. Minner called them all to the office and asked
each one the same two questions: ‘Does your teacher, Miss
Annabelle, hug or kiss you?’ ‘Does she like it?’ We recorded
their answers, and here is what they said. Please, run the tape!”
Miss Annabelle had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she
heard her students’ innocent answers paraded before the school
board. Miss Annabelle and most of the parents had chosen not
to get into explaining “child molestation” to the children, so most
of them did not really know what it was. So, when they
answered Ms. Minner, they thought they were helping their
teacher by emphasizing how sweet and loving and affectionate
she was with them and how she was so much more affectionate
than any other teacher.
“Oh yes, she loves hugs and kisses,” Debbie said.
“One time, she even got all mushy and wet!” Danny said,
referring to her teary eyed moment when he defended her honor.
“She holds me tight, sometimes for a long time. I think she
really likes it!” Sally said proudly.
“Once when I came to school early, I sat in her lap and
talked to her. She’s so loving to me.”
“I was crying one day when I fell at recess. I didn’t want
anyone to see me crying, so we went into the classroom, and
she hugged me until I was all better.”
“She loves to hug us. Sometimes, I think she doesn’t want
to let go!”
This dishonest display went on and on. Miss Annabelle
thought, however, that she could break the spell Hammerschmidt
was putting on the school board using a similar technique that
she used for the photos. She would explain that Hammerschmidt
took facts out of context, and she could do the same for any
other teacher as she did with the photos.

204

But she did not count on what was to come next.
Hammerschmidt introduced a psychologist who specialized in
sexual child abuse and who worked for the state as one of its
top social psychologists. Hammerschmidt went to work:
“Please introduce yourself, doctor,” he said.
“My name is Dr. Michael Masterson. I have a Ph.D. in
Psychology. I work for the state of New York specializing in
sexual child abuse.”
“How long have you been practicing, sir?”
“Fifteen years. I’ve written three books on the subject,” the
doctor said.
“Can you give us your thoughts on what you just heard from
these children?”
“From what I heard, in my professional opinion, something
is going on here.”
“But why do none of the children seem upset?”
Hammerschmidt asked, feigning objectivity.
“Often I see cases where the child is not even aware that
he or she is a victim of sexual molestation. The predator is
sometimes gentle and quite subtle.”
“In such a case, does the child have little to worry about?”
Hammerschmidt continued.
“Actually, there’s always reason for concern,” the doctor
responded. “A subtle molester usually escalates his or her habit
over time, just as a drug addict or alcoholic does. The subtle
inflictions become a little more aggressive with time.”
“What eventually happens?” Hammerschmidt asked. He was
a master at creating illusions.
“You never know for sure. I’ve seen cases begin innocently
but end with rape or uncontrollable groping and fondling. Now,
may I ask you a question, sir?”
“Certainly,” Hammerschmidt said.
“Has anyone noticed this teacher hug her students in any
increased frequency since, say, the beginning of school?”
“Why, yes,” Ms. Minner said eagerly. “These past six weeks,
it seems she is always hugging her kids.”
“OK, that’s a classic signal that the neurosis is taking over.
Next, she’ll become more bold with her contact with those
children.”

205

“Sir, what do you recommend our action to be?”
Hammerschmidt tried to sound diplomatic.
“Once a child becomes aware that he or she has been
molested, a trauma could occur at a deep level that’s never fully
reversed. That child will carry that with him for the rest of his
or her life. Because the consequences are so severe, I suggest
you remove a teacher if you have good reason to suspect a
pattern indicative of sexual molestation.”
“Does good reason to suspect sexual molestation exist in this
case?” Hammerschmidt asked, concluding his masterful illusion.
“In my professional opinion: YES.”
Watching Hammerschmidt play this doctor like a movie script
seemed unreal to Miss Annabelle, like she was watching a movie.
She did not know how to jump into this motion picture to save
herself. She just sat there and watched. She wondered, how
can someone so absolutely innocent be made to look so
convincingly guilty? It’s like a nightmare that I can’t get out
of. As she sat there, not knowing what to do, she was startled
by a full, deep voice behind her.
“Excuse me, my name is Bruce Salinski. I’m Miss
Annabelle’s attorney.”
She turned around to see a well-dressed, slim man coming
down the aisle, coming to her rescue. He sat down behind her,
next to Angie.
“This is a private school board hearing, not a legal hearing,”
Hammerschmidt interrupted. “We’re not open to lawyers.”
“OK, what I have to say here is—”
“We’re not open to lawyers, Mr. Salinski,” Hammerschmidt
interrupted again.
“Mr. Hammerschmidt, you ambushed her with your expert
doctor, which in legal terms is called a hostile expert witness.
I think Miss Annabelle is entitled to a little representation here.
Of course, I could give my personal opinion of this talented,
agenda-driven orchestration to the media, but I think you’d prefer
if I addressed the school board.”
Mr. Hammerschmidt stayed quiet. Miss Annabelle realized
by that exchange that she had a slick lawyer.

206

“Ladies and gentlemen,” her lawyer began, “in the justice
system, the prosecution and the defense are not permitted to
spring surprises on each other as we witnessed here today. All
evidence, which is called discovery, is presented to both sides.
That is the only fair thing to do so the other side can give its
side, too. Bringing in this esteemed doctor as a surprise was
totally unfair.”
“We’re not in your justice system here,” Hammerschmidt
growled.
“Not technically,” Salinski, unaffected, replied, “but ethically
you are. You are dealing with SOMEONE’S LIVELIHOOD and
ENTIRE FUTURE. Ethically, you are in the justice system, and
the way you did this today was insidiously unfair. If you want
to include witnesses, we could go out and find our own expert
witness who would show Miss Annabelle is completely normal
with absolutely no threat to her students. I officially insist, for
the sake of honesty, that the school board members strike that
hostile expert witness from your consideration. …Shame on you,
Hammerschmidt.”
Hammerschmidt was livid. “What did you say your name
was?”
“Bruce Salinski,” the lawyer said, knowing full well he would
soon be hit with an IRS audit.
Miss Annabelle, John Melbourne, Jessie and Angie felt a
fondness for Bruce Salinski. He demonstrated solid legal
competence and charisma, yet he had a moderate practice. Mr.
Melbourne believed he was one of the rare lawyers who did not
thrive on creating problems where none existed.
After Salinski talked, Miss Annabelle had new hope. She
stood up and said she had something she wanted each school
board member to read. She handed out her photocopied
collection of essays. When she got to Hammerschmidt and
Minner, she stopped.
“You two do not need these,” she said. “No, you already
have your agenda. These are very loving reflections my students
wrote about me, without my knowledge, on the request of Angie
Attison. You two are agenda driven and do not deserve to see
my students’ private thoughts. We already know you two are
voting me out.”
Hammerschmidt wanted to use his fists on her.

207

But he just said, “Ah, do whatever you want.” The board members looked surprised by his surly reaction, obviously full of hatred and
temper. The board members were left with the essays, and the meeting was adjourned. No one noticed Hammerschmidt gritting his teeth while staring at Miss Annabelle as she was leaving.

*

Angie and Jessie, Bruce Salinski, John, and Miss Annabelle
decided to meet at her house to review the meeting.
The gathering was very different from last time. Miss
Annabelle was shaken, but not destroyed. Now, accepting
Hammerschmidt for who he was — a liar with an agenda —
nothing came as a surprise, no matter how low. Instead of
feeling defeated, she was very much on her feet and still fighting.
And the team felt new strength with Bruce Salinski.
“I guess the strategy now amounts to: how and when do we
use Hammerschmidt’s skeletons,” she said looking straight at
Salinski.
Miss Annabelle and John Melbourne sat together on the
couch. Angie and Jessie sat across on the love seat, and Bruce
Salinski sat on the chair next to the fireplace.
“You’re right,” he said. “He’s the leader all right. And he’s
out to make a name for himself at your expense. We need to
get to him by the weekend. He’ll control the outcome of the
school board’s decision. We’ll control him.”
“Who should confront him?” John asked, ready to do the
deed.
“I will,” Salinski said confidently. “I’m experienced at
dealing with scum.”
The atmosphere was relaxed, and everyone felt justice in the
plan. Miss Annabelle felt the children were still mostly
unscathed by the whole thing. In fact, she rather looked forward
to making Hammerschmidt squirm, and she felt confident in
Salinski. They talked for another forty minutes, then got up to
leave. The team looked forward to the next play, and they had
a pro carrying the ball.
John had to run home to get some school papers to grade
and left with the others.

208

He also knew Miss Annabelle needed
and wanted a little time to herself. He’d be back in about an
hour, he told her, and he kissed her.
“I’m proud of you, darling,” he said as he was leaving.
Exhausted, she lay down on the couch after everyone left.

*

Miss Annabelle was asleep on her living room couch when
she was awakened by knocking on her front door. Disoriented
on seeing it was night time, she looked at the grandfather clock.
It was 9:50 p.m. It must be John, she thought. Sometimes he
knocked when he felt she needed some warning, respecting her
privacy.
She missed him and eagerly opened the door. Staring back
at her was Hammerschmidt! She gasped; her little body
noticeably jumped, which pleased her nemesis.
“I have to give you these papers,” he said, sounding official
as he walked past her into the house without asking. “It’s policy
that you fill these out and return them. We’ll hold another
meeting soon.”
As the large man walked past her, she smelled alcohol on
his breath. She got cold and clammy all over, for that odor
brought back memories of her ex-husband coming home after
drinking, sometimes turning those difficult nights into violent
physical abuse.
Miss Annabelle was trembling terribly. “Thank you,” she
said. She managed to keep her tone steady, for she knew she
must not show fear to this sadistic drunk before her who was
quite aroused after the evening’s dramatic event earlier.
Unbeknownst to everyone in the meeting, Hammerschmidt had
gotten quite aroused watching her facial reactions to the audio
footage of her students. To see agony in her face brought ecstasy
to this man. He got easily turned on by seeing this brave little
lady break down and appear vulnerable. In fact, that arousing
thought would not leave his head. After the school board
meeting, he went to a bar. Building more and more desire with
each drink to see her broken down, he decided to look in her
school file for her address and head to her home.

209

Now he stood in her house, alone with her, and the desire to further break her made his pulse race and his mouth salivate.
When he didn’t leave after placing the papers on the coffee
table, Miss Annabelle felt something bad was about to happen.
“Thank you, Mr. Hammerschmidt,” she said as evenly as she
could, while walking to the front door. “I’ll review them tonight
and return them tomorrow.”
She opened the door for him to leave. He followed her and,
calming down inside when confronted by her in-control voice that
showed no fear, he appeared to be leaving.
In the doorway, however, he saw her hand trembling as she
let go of the door knob.
“Wait!” he said, putting his hand up to stop the door from
being pushed closed.
Instinctively, Miss Annabelle put both hands on the back of
the door and tried to push it shut. But Hammerschmidt pushed
it open with one hand, throwing Miss Annabelle back several
steps.
The scuffle broke the ice for Hammerschmidt to act on his
desire, which now overtook him.
“YOU’VE BEEN A BAD GIRL!” he bellowed loudly,
breaking all boundaries between them. Then he lost his head,
as a whirl of emotions swooshed through him. He started
walking toward the helplessly petrified woman. With every step,
the terror in her face intensified, causing greater and greater
sensations in him. He was going to dominate her and put her
through sheer horror.
“You little bitch!” he screamed while smacking her with a
right cross and adjusting his groin with his left hand.
She screamed for help, but he took his left hand off his pants
and wrapped it around her neck so hard that she couldn’t make
a sound. Then he pushed her to the ground. She coughed and
tried to breathe again.
“Who the FUCK do you think you are?” He leaned over
and hit her hard twice on the side of her head. “Hummm?
Answer me, bitch!”
He jumped on her and started shaking her violently. Each
shake forced air out of her lungs, making an eerie repetitive
sound of terror being squeezed out of her.

210

He was extremely strong, much stronger than her ex-husband, and she could do nothing to fight back to save herself.
He stopped shaking her and pushed her hard, back against
the floor. He rubbed his big hand up and down her torso then
ripped her blouse back.
He leaned forward and started rapidly unbuckling his belt.
“Oh…you’re gonna pay now,” he mumbled. But Miss Annabelle
could only think of how she could not breathe. His entire body
weight was resting on her ribs. She could not breathe, and she
started to black out.
As she was fading, she suddenly started breathing again and
realized the stocky German man had been knocked off her. He
must have been hit hard, she thought, as she saw him staggering
to his feet. She looked up and saw John with both hands clasped
together. Like swinging a club, he swung his clasped fists again
and battered Hammerschmidt so hard the thick man spun back
to the floor. Blood was coming out of his left ear and dripping
from his mouth.
But Hammerschmidt was like a machine. He got back up
and yelled at John, “You gonna die, nigger lover!” Then he
charged with his balding head down, like a bull, screaming the
whole time, straight into John’s stomach, which drove him against
the wall. Hammerschmidt was obviously heavier and stronger
than John, but the Australian kept a cool head. He walked away
from the wall, doubled over trying to catch his wind.
Hammerschmidt stumbled backwards a few steps. He was
catching his breath, too. For a moment, both men stood looking
at each other, and everything seemed calm. For that one moment,
Hammerschmidt could make a choice — to stop or to continue
his crime. After a pause, Hammerschmidt could not let the
reality and consequences of what he was doing set in; so he went
berserk.
His face turned deep red as he released a horrifying yell so
hard that the skin in the back of his throat could be heard
scraping off. He charged John again, head down. This time,
John, who was leaning back against the fireplace, sidestepped
Hammerschmidt at the last instant. The madman smashed into
the stone mantle head first at full force. He staggered backward
from the sheer impact, then collapsed face first onto the floor.

211

John limped over to Miss Annabelle.
“Are you hurt badly anywhere?” he asked, looking at her
closely for the first time. Seeing her swollen face made him
so sad…and so angry he wanted to go beat Hammerschmidt to
death. But he just hugged her, instead.
“I don’t know,” she was sobbing and desperately hugging
back. “I think I’m hurt. I couldn’t breathe.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said while picking her
up like a baby.
“What about him?” she asked, still sobbing.
On the way out, Mr. Melbourne put Miss Annabelle on a
chair and quickly phoned the police. He reported the crime and
said they should send an ambulance to treat Hammerschmidt.
Mr. Melbourne gave them the address and said he would leave
the door unlocked. He stopped their questions and said they
would need to get the details later because he was taking the
victim to the hospital.

*

In the emergency room, while waiting to be seen by a doctor,
two plainclothes policemen came to talk to Mr. Melbourne and
Miss Annabelle.
“Hello, are you Miss Annabelle Barclay?” the taller man
asked.
“Yes, I am,” she said, holding an ice pack against the side
of her head.
“And you, sir,” the taller policeman said politely, “are you
Mr. John Melbourne?”
“Yes, I’m John Melbourne,” he answered.
“I’m Detective Steve McClennahan, and this is my partner,
Detective Joe Sicolli, homicide,” he said.
“Homicide?” John said, puzzled.
“Charles Hammerschmidt is dead,” the shorter detective said.
Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne looked at each other and
held each other’s hand.
“I explained what happened to the dispatcher,” Mr. Melbourne
said. “We had no idea he died from running into the wall.”
“We just need to ask you some questions,” the shorter Italian
detective said.

212

“Here?” Miss Annabelle asked, in obvious pain.
“Just a few, for now,” the taller detective said.
Then Detective Sicolli said, “Please move over there, Mr.
Melbourne.” He was pointing to the adjoining waiting room.
“We need to talk to you separately, and let’s get Miss
Annabelle’s statement out of the way first before the doctor calls
her in.”
“Honey, are you OK to talk right now?” Mr. Melbourne said.
“I’d better ask the doctor.”
“Sweetheart, I’m OK to answer questions,” she said. She
stopped him from going to get a doctor. “I just want to get it
over with.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, but he looked uneasy.
“I’m feeling much better now. I’ll be fine,” she said,
“honestly.”
They kissed, and Mr. Melbourne walked into the adjoining
waiting room.

*

After nearly an hour wait they called Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne in to be seen by a doctor. Mr. Melbourne said he
was not seriously hurt and did not need to be looked over. He
wanted to be with her, but the detectives asked him to stay with
them. Miss Annabelle followed the nurse, and the homicide
detectives continued questioning Mr. Melbourne in the waiting
room.
The examination went well. Besides some bruising and a
one-inch surface cut on the left side of Miss Annabelle’s face,
she was OK. But when she came back out to the waiting area
just after midnight, the detectives were still there, still talking
with John.
When John saw her come out, he nearly jumped out of his
chair and rushed over to her. She told him everything was fine,
which removed the anxieties that had been growing in him for
the past forty-five minutes. “But why are they still here?” she
asked.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Detective McClennahan said.

213

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but you both must come with
us to the station.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly.
“A man was found dead in your house tonight.
Approximately four hours before he died, you sat in a tumultuous
school board meeting over which he presided. In the previous
meeting less than a month before, witnesses say he upset you
so much you had to run out. We also have witnesses saying
that after that meeting, John Melbourne threatened Mr.
Hammerschmidt.”
Miss Annabelle looked at John. “I was angry,” he said. “I
told him he was going to pay for this. …Of course, how was
I to know all this would happen?”
“But he ATTACKED me,” Miss Annabelle said, in shock at
the implications. “He tried to rape me and might’ve killed me
if John hadn’t shown up! What is this? We’re the victims here!”
“Ma’am, we’re not arresting you,” Detective Sicolli said
reassuringly, then added firmly, “We just need to get more
information.”

*

Things did not go well at the station. Both a motive and
what could be construed as a life threat gave the police too much
probable cause not to consider Mr. Melbourne and Miss
Annabelle suspects.
They were arrested and held overnight in separate holding
cells. They appeared the next day before a magistrate. Bruce
Salinski represented them. He did a good job derailing the theory
that Mr. Melbourne and Miss Annabelle conspired to kill
Hammerschmidt.
“If that were a plausible possibility, why was Mr.
Hammerschmidt in Miss Annabelle’s house? Why would he have
come there? He wouldn’t. He was there for a dark agenda.
He’d been drinking at the town’s pub before he showed up. My
client was attacked by this man.”
Of course, the District Attorney argued that Hammerschmidt
had his way in the school board meeting earlier in the evening
and had no reason to attack her.

214

Salinski countered that Hammerschmidt was attacking Miss
Annabelle sexually, which could be set off by a major
confrontation as occurred earlier that day.
In the end, the judge set bail at $100,000 each and ordered
them to turn in their passports. Salinski began preparing for trial.

215

————————
Chapter
Eighteen
————————

The news and photos of Hammerschmidt’s gruesome death
covered the front page of Thursday’s morning paper. By the
time school started, all twelve students knew what had happened.
They sat in silence, staring at the substitute teacher, frightened
for their beloved teacher.

*

The school board members convened for an emergency
meeting the day after Hammerschmidt’s death. They all agreed
that the logical course of action would be to remove Miss
Annabelle from teaching the rest of the year, irregardless of her
yet-to-be-determined guilt or innocence on her child molestation
case or her role in Hammerschmidt’s death. Her twelve students
could be split among the other third-grade teachers for the final
nine weeks of school.
That was the obvious course of action to handle this bizarre
situation…several of the school board members were moved
deeply by the children’s essays about their teacher. Never had
those adults seen such love expressed for a teacher. Several of
those school board members admitted in the meeting that they
were moved to tears while reading the essays the night before.

216

Miss Annabelle was more than a teacher to these children…she
was a hero and a mother. Although the school board members
knew the logical thing to do, the easy thing to do, the question
was asked, “Is there another way?”

*

By Friday morning, it was the rumor of upstate New York:
a beautiful woman and her foreign lover colluded to take revenge
on a wholesome school board superintendent who had stopped
the nymph from her sexual yearnings for her students. The
beautiful siren lured the helpless school board superintendent to
her home and to his death, the rumor went. She and her foreign
lover ambushed the school board superintendent and bludgeoned
him nearly to death. Then, they left him to die alone.
The rumors, media, accusations were just too much. The
school board, with Ms. Minner now the acting superintendent,
ruled on Monday against Miss Annabelle in the child molestation
case. Of course, Miss Annabelle being a murder suspect
overwhelmed their decision. Now she would never teach again.
Ms. Minner got what she wanted. But several of the school
board members, still deeply moved by the children’s essays, felt
horrible about their ruling. Those members, in a strange move,
fought with Ms. Minner to give the students and their parents
the choice to keep Miss Annabelle as their teacher for the final
eight-and-a-half weeks left of school. Those school board
members who still had the innocent child of the past within them,
knew that this move would forever mean so much to the children
and would be a precious gift to Miss Annabelle. These adults
knew their child molestation ruling was wrong, but to keep Miss
Annabelle and her students together…that would be justice.
The school board drafted a letter that same day and sent it
home on Tuesday with Miss Annabelle’s students to their parents.
The letter explained the permanent dismissal of Miss Annabelle
based on the child molestation ruling. The letter also explained
the bizarre string of events, climaxing in Hammerschmidt’s death,
for which Miss Annabelle had been indicted as a suspect and
would stand trial this coming summer.

217

Each parent was given
the option to have his or her child switched to another
teacher…or, “because of the rare personal and academic success
of this student/teacher combination, parents may elect to have
their child finish out the year with Miss Annabelle.” Of course,
Ms. Minner figured all parents would want their children moved
to another class, and Miss Annabelle’s year would be effectively
over.
In a stunning display of belief in Miss Annabelle’s innocence,
all parents, under great pressure from their children, let their
children stay in Miss Annabelle’s class. That totally unexpected
reaction shocked Ms. Minner and some members of the school
board. But that unanimous decision did not surprise the school
board members who fought for this option.

*

Mr. Melbourne’s father posted bail for his son and Miss
Annabelle. The school board assigned a substitute to finish the
school year teaching Mr. Melbourne’s students.
Thursday morning, however, one very long week and one day
after her darkest day, Miss Annabelle re-entered the rational
world again. Miss Annabelle looked at her twelve little unsung
heroes and knew they had fought hard to remain here. Who
knows what horrible things they heard about me, she thought.
Yet, here they sit, all twelve. …Miss Annabelle could feel how
much these little ones loved her. And, oh how she loved them!
The pure love all around her and in her nearly overwhelmed her.
“I want to thank you,” Miss Annabelle began, “for honestly
seeing through the illusions that surround me. Each and every
one of you are using your own thinking. I know it’s not easy,
but you’re struggling to see past other people’s thinking to what
is. I’ll reward you with the best two months of the whole year.”
Miss Annabelle really meant that, for now she could get very
focused. She knew where things stood. After this school year,
she would not teach again, but now it was certain that she would
have until the end of the school year with her students. She
felt enormous relief and peace. At the same time, she felt
sadness that she would be kept out of their futures and would
not see their development in the years to come.
“May I say something?” Ian asked, making Miss Annabelle
realize she had drifted off momentarily in her thoughts.

218

“Yes, Ian,” she said, smiling.
“You’re a genius, Miss Annabelle. No, I really mean it.
You’ve seen our test scores. Nattie was the highest, and most
of us beat the sixth graders. Talk about values — look at what
you’re doing for us.” Ian was very serious, and his voice was
shaking because it meant a lot to him to be able to express this
to his teacher. “So when I heard what happened last week, I
knew it wasn’t true — not like I heard about it. I asked my
dad what Hammerschmidt did for a living. He said he was a
tax collector. I read the paper. It said he was a tough tax
collector. I thought, ‘What values has he brought to people?’
You know, I couldn’t think of anything. Then I realized what
makes the world nice — it’s geniuses like you who bring lots
of values to people. And good people who devote their whole
lives to bringing values to others cannot turn around and do bad
things like those rumors say about you. So when my mom and
dad read the letter to me, I told them nothing in the world can
get me to leave your class, not even Hammerschmidt’s death.
Nothing could stop me from being right here with you!”
Miss Annabelle was so moved she could not manage to say
more than, “Thank you, Ian, from the bottom of my heart.” But
the children could see how deeply Ian’s explanation affected her.
Next, Teddy talked. Then Sally. Then Cathy. Then
Jeremiah. …Miss Annabelle let them talk, all twelve of them,
as long as they wanted, all along thinking how glad she was to
have all this on tape to keep as her fond memories in the years
ahead.

*

Salinski called Miss Annabelle to tell her that the earliest the
trial would happen was mid-summer, which pleased her. She
wanted to devote herself to her students the next two months
with few distractions.
Knowing she had just eight weeks left brought on the
nostalgia. She felt as if she had shared a lifetime with her
students. She decided to offer a voluntary hour after school each
day for open discussion. She saw it as a way, for those who
wanted to attend, to socialize…yet socialize through good
discussions.

219

The extra hour meant that those who stayed would
have to arrange rides from school or take a long walk home since
they would miss their school bus. Miss Annabelle wanted to
give them all rides home, but her lawyer told her she could not
do that, for the school had a faculty member in the classroom
at all times, and the ride home would give Ms. Minner grounds
to terminate Miss Annabelle before the end of the school year.
In yet another testimony to Miss Annabelle, all twelve
students attended the extra discussion hour. The discussions
were, in fact, so interesting and so full of puzzle-building
neothinking in action, Miss Annabelle started to record them.
She could see the seeds of greatness being planted during these
discussion sessions.
As Miss Annabelle had hoped, the class grew closer and
closer from the discussion hour. Most of them rode home
together in car pools. During these final weeks, the twelve
children were discovering a whole new dimension to friendship.
Together, they were discovering who they were meant to be.
Together, they were in another world never seen here on
Earth, a fully honest world. A world of pure love. A world
with powerful meaning and drive. The motivation in Miss
Annabelle’s class broke new dimensions in schooling. They
shared a love for life that would, twenty-seven years later, bring
these Neothinkers together once again to lead the greatest project
ever endeavored by mankind.

*

As a consequence of their neothinking, several of her students
were getting involved in a hobby, business, experiment, or
research of some kind in a major way. Their projects brought
exciting discussions to the discussion hour, which helped generate
ideas that benefited those projects. Also, the discussion hour
brought the little Neothinkers positive reflections and peer interest
in their projects. They were soul mates, independently blazing
ahead on their own success puzzles in life, yet coming together
and sharing and admiring each others’ accomplishments.
Teddy, at nine years old, ran a million-dollar company now.

220

He was able to handle it through revolutionary new time-management and business concepts. He managed his busy
schedule through the mini-day schedule where he scheduled his
physical movements to time slots instead of scheduling his tasks
to time slots as in the traditional schedule. He explained that
by doing this, he set up his schedule like a production line,
driving through tasks like a rivet man driving through rivet after
rivet on the assembly line.
“The traditional schedule that attaches tasks to time is like
the old way of building cars at the turn of the century,” he said
in the discussion hour. “They used to bring over and put the
seat in, then they would change all their tools to put the steering
wheel in. Then they’d have lunch. It’d take all day to put
together one car that way. When Henry Ford completely changed
production from doing whole tasks to doing simple movements
with the production line, no one wasted time walking around or
changing tools. Soon, the same factories were putting out a
hundred cars a day!
“I could never do what I’m doing now without breaking my
work day into physical movements. Like the work stations on
an assembly line, I start and end each mini-day right on the time
allotted. I can get more done in an hour than in a whole day
the other way I used to work.
“Also, I discovered the mini-company. Setting up those inhouse entrepreneurs, as I told you before, makes others drive their
portions of the business with entrepreneurial energy. I couldn’t
have grown to this level of revenues any other way.
“Miss Annabelle’s talk with my dad and me at the beginning
of the school year always stayed with me. That talk, and being
taught in class how to seek common denominators to get down
to the essence of things, let me spot the crucial common
denominators in business: For example, I could see, after I read
a book on Henry Ford, that the common denominator behind
mass production was scheduling work by the physical movements
and not by tasks, sending production through a major leap. Why
not set up my production that way, I eventually realized, setting
up my mini-day schedule, which sent my production through a
major leap. And let’s not forget, the common denominator
behind every business is making money.

221

Why not set up every job that way, I eventually realized, setting up my mini-companies.” Teddy always seemed to be on the go, but he attended every discussion hour those last two months. He, along with the other students, inherently knew this gathering was something special, something they would never have again. The children and their teacher cherished the preciousness of this time together.

*

Cathy, becoming more beautiful by the day, always sat next
to Teddy. She liked him a lot and loved to hear his stories about
his business. She, too, talked openly now. Three weeks into
the discussion period, she revealed the most unique diet Miss
Annabelle had ever heard about. Cathy figured it out on her
own — and it worked!
“The idea is very simple, and that’s why it works so well,”
Cathy said proudly. “I always had cravings like my mom, my
dad, and my sisters. I’d try, on my own, to diet. But the
cravings always won in the end. My mom always has a book
or article around the house on some diet she is trying. Through
all the fancy diets, though, I knew the essence of what would
cure my weight problem was: get rid of my cravings. If those
went away, I’d be slim and beautiful. But I had no control over
my cravings. They could hit me at any time and in many
different ways. I fought them, but the cravings always won out
in the end. Dieting just made it worse.”
Then Cathy looked down, perhaps a little embarrassed, and
said, “Of course, I noticed how beautiful Miss Annabelle was
the first day of class. And when she sat next to me at lunch
that one day and hugged me…well, I really liked it. No one
ever noticed me before. And that made me want to become like
her. …So I watched how she ate, every day. I noticed she
always got the same thing — a turkey sandwich. And she always
ate the same amount and never bothered with the dessert or roll.
I used to think, doesn’t she get bored with the same food every
day? But I wanted to be like her, so I tried it too. Every day,
I’d get the turkey sandwich.

222

And after about three weeks,
something weird happened: I found myself craving that hot
turkey sandwich! I no longer craved all those other items sitting
on the lunch line…for the first time, I only craved my hot turkey
sandwich! That’s when I realized I might have discovered the
golden key to curing my weight problem, because I realized I
might be able to control my cravings! Instead of having dozens
of cravings every day, maybe I could have just three or four.”
“Cool,” Teddy said, a whole step ahead of the rest of the
class, “What a great breakthrough.”
“Thank you,” Cathy said, looking up and blushing. “So, I
started eating the same breakfast and the same dinner too. I also
picked out an evening snack and had the same snack each
evening. My mom yelled at me at first, but I didn’t care.
Maybe I could help her, too, I used to think. Sure enough, in
about three weeks, I craved those breakfast and dinner foods too.
In turn, the dozens of other cravings I fought against every day
were gone! That’s because I already had my craving in place.
What’s more, my four cravings now actually occurred like
clockwork at their times of the day. For the first time in my
life, I had control.”
“Wow,” Natasha said, thoroughly absorbed in Cathy’s story.
“Right away, I started losing weight. I lost about eleven
pounds because I no longer snacked. Then, I stopped losing.
Now I knew I had to do the dreaded thing: eat less food. Boy,
was I in for a surprise! When I cut my evening snack in half,
I still just craved the same thing…my strawberries and whipped
cream. But because it was just one craving and not fifteen or
more, it was easy to handle and overcome. And when I had
my strawberries and cream, although half the amount, I still
serviced my craving. It was really easy. I cut down my dinner
the same way. It was easy to do. And that is how I got to
where I am today!”
“You’re beautiful, Cathy,” Teddy said.
“I admire you for what you’ve done,” Natasha said.
“Yeah, me too!” Sally said.
Cathy turned red. Miss Annabelle walked over and said, “I
knew you would be slim and beautiful someday, darling. I’m
very proud of you.”
Cathy had never been so happy. She had conquered the
nemesis in her life, an enemy that had destroyed many branches
of her family tree in the past.

223

For weeks to come, she replayed
in her head those compliments given to her today. The one
compliment she heard over and over in her head was Teddy
telling her not that she looked beautiful, but that she was
beautiful.
Miss Annabelle realized the creation of the discussion hour
late in the school year was crucial. She saw the seeds of
greatness begin to grow. This was a way for her students to
start articulating and crystallizing their beginnings. Miss
Annabelle encouraged Cathy to write her complete diet onto
paper. Teddy said he could probably sell the diet through his
business!
When Teddy made that comment to Cathy, something
wonderful happened in Alan’s mind. He was passionately
interested in new technological breakthroughs. He could not
seem to read enough about technology. His father got him his
own subscription to a magazine called Tomorrow. Alan would
scour the magazine to get a glimpse of new technologies of any
kind. He knew his dad paid good money for his subscription.
…Sitting in this discussion, he thought, “Just as I love to read
about new technologies, a lot of people out there would love to
read about Cathy’s new diet…or about Teddy’s new business
ideas…or about Ian’s new theories.”
Alan loved to read, and he enjoyed writing, too. The idea
of selling valuable information excited him.
“Who else has got a breakthrough — something really
different like Cathy?” he said out loud.
“I might,” Natasha answered. “Mine has to do with love.”
“Oh yeah?” Cathy said, eyes wide and smiling.
“Well, my mom and dad never seemed to get along. They
even went to counseling, and they did two of those retreats
together. But they always seemed to get back into arguing.
Therapy didn’t help much. I used to avoid them when they
argued, but one morning over breakfast, I started to listen to
them. I listened to every argument for the next couple weeks.
It always seemed that when they started to get agitated, Mom
would say some comment that began with, ‘Maybe if you were
around a little more…’.

224

Every time, this would make my dad
furious, and the argument would quickly escalate. My dad is a
very successful general contractor. He designs and builds
expensive custom homes. I know he takes enormous pride in
his work. His work is his accomplishment in life, and each home
is like his personal trophy. He works hard to do such great work,
and he works hard so our family can live in one of those
beautiful homes. He’s also saving money so my brother, sisters,
and I can all go to college. So, I talked to my mom. I think
she was worried that my dad would meet another woman like
her father did when he left her mother. But I told her how much
dad’s creations meant to him…they were a part of him; I know
this because he always takes me to every new house he’s
building, and he walks me through every room and tells me why
it’s that way. He gets really excited, and I used to wonder why
mom wasn’t with us. Each custom home he’s created and built
was like a part of him, all his creations that together make up
the whole man. I explained this to my mom. I told her she
needs to become interested instead of antagonized by dad’s
creations. ‘Go with him and let him get excited and show you,
too,’ I told her. ‘Compliment him and admire his work — it’s
beautiful!’ I told her. ‘Get behind his life’s work, not against
it.’ As the bait, I told her the closeness would make him fall
in love with her again. So, she did exactly what I suggested.
Now, mom spends a lot more time with him, going around with
him in the day from site to site. They even discuss ideas and
look at blueprints together in the evenings. They’re both so
happy now. I even see them kissing and hugging now, which I
could not remember ever seeing before. And they laugh together.
I love their laughter. …I don’t know, I just knew it would work
if Mom could get into his accomplishments. And Dad gets so
inspired now by my mom. It’s beautiful.”
“Wow, that’s sweet,” Sally said. “They’ve discovered what
my mom and I call the celebration.”
“I wish my parents were like yours,” Cathy said.
“Man, that’s really good, Nattie,” Alan said. “Do you think
you could write down the reasons why you think it worked so
well for your mom and dad?”
“I think so,” Natasha answered.
“Great! Who else has something unique like Nattie and
Cathy…and Teddy?”

225

Miss Annabelle looked at Alan curiously. He was really
pumped up. What idea does he have? she wondered.
“I’ve got a lot of ideas on physics and metaphysics,” Ian said.
“Oh, yeah…I love your ideas,” Alan said, smiling wide. “Can
you write a paper on your theory?”
Ian nodded.
“I’ve been getting into politics and why it’s not working,”
Danny said. “I can surely write a paper about it.”
“I go to the library and do a lot of research on cancer and
health with my mom,” Sally said. “I already have lots of
research notes.”
“I don’t like what I hear at church. I’ve come up with some
new ideas, some of them based on Miss Annabelle and Ian’s
ideas,” Jeremiah said.
“Oh, I’ve got some different approaches to music I’ve been
experimenting with,” Reggie said.
Alan looked around the room at everybody. His eyes were
big. He was about to burst with a big idea, but he remained
calm and calculating and said, “During these discussion periods,
I’ve heard some of the most innovative ideas I’ve ever heard
or read about. You know, I love to read about new developments
in technology. But I love anything new that goes beyond what
exists now…to the next level. These things you all talk about
like Teddy’s business techniques, Cathy’s diet, Nattie’s love
advice, Ian’s cosmos, Reggie’s music, Jeremiah’s religion, Sally’s
medical ideas, Danny’s politics…these are fantastic advancements
of knowledge!”
Miss Annabelle could not have said it better herself.
“What,” continued Alan, “should we do about that? I say
we should get this knowledge down on paper and spread it to
hundreds or thousands of people. Let your special knowledge
spread to many others. Nattie, what if you could save a thousand
marriages?”
“Wouldn’t that be cool!” she answered.
“Cathy, what if you helped thousands of people get slim and
happy like you?” he said, on a roll.
“Yeah, I’d love that!” she said. She also loved being
officially considered slim now.

226

“And you, Danny…what if your political ideas started to get
others interested out there?”
“Awesome,” Danny said, throwing an air high-five across the
room to Alan’s reciprocating air high-five.
Now the kids were pumped up, too. Miss Annabelle was
moved by Alan’s charisma and his ability to create a big idea.
“Think about it — hundreds of people seeing our
breakthroughs,” Alan rolled on. “I want to put together a booklet
called Breakthrough News: Fresh Money, Power, Love, and
Health Ideas! Teddy, you’re the businessman. You said you
could sell Cathy’s diet…how about a whole information package
covering all these breakthroughs?”
“You’re a genius, Alan. I could sell a lot of those — I know
it. Are you kidding, with a title like that…coming from kids?
The curiosity will be fantastic. When can this be done?”
“Let’s set a deadline,” Alan said. “We’ve still got five weeks
of school left. Let’s get Breakthrough News finished in three
weeks. That gives us two weeks to work on it together in the
discussion hour with Miss Annabelle before I get the final copy
printed for you and your salesmen.”
“Deal!” Teddy yelled.
The other kids applauded and cheered. As it would turn out,
Breakthrough News would be the legacy of the puzzle-building
Neothink mentality Miss Annabelle achieved with her third
graders. Twenty seven years later, the seeds of their greatness
could be found in this historic publication.

*

All year, Miss Annabelle had three main objectives: 1) teach
the children fundamental academics in an integrated conceptual
fashion as opposed to a disintegrated perceptual fashion as did
most educators. Instead of simply teaching the dates and events
in history, she tied each historic event back to the larger concept
of freedom versus tyranny, which shaped history and its events.
That integrated, conceptual thinking, integrating endless, scattered
events (i.e., percepts) to larger, timeless common denominators
(i.e., concepts), enabled her students to see deeper than others
— to the deeper logic behind events.

227

2) Her second main goal was to prompt her students’ minds into integrated thinking and onto puzzle-building Neothink.
3) Her third goal was to inject supreme love for life into the hearts and souls of her students. She did this by bringing them into the exhilarating life of value creation, happiness, and love during their special year together.
She introduced them to the way they could feel and live for the
rest of their lives. By feeling supreme love for life, they
emotionally knew their lives — conscious lives — were the
supreme value in the Universe. Their lives were wonderfully
indispensable. …She wanted her children to leave her class
superbly educated, with Neothink in their minds and supreme love
for life in their hearts.
She had spent seven months developing their minds. Now,
over the last two months, they had become self-perpetuating
integrated thinkers or self-leaders as Mr. Melbourne called them.
With their ability to efficiently see through appearances to the
essence of things — to what is — in this world of many
illusions, they were competent to make their own decisions, be
their own authorities, and lead themselves through life. They
would not need “higher” authorities or leaders telling them how
to think or live.
The final two months became a rewarding time for Miss
Annabelle as she watched her beloved students’ minds take off
with Neothink as they began building their success puzzles in
life. Miss Annabelle helped them integrate and coordinate their
launching pad — their Breakthrough News. During the final five
weeks, their discussion group resembled a publishing house as
they discussed, developed, read and edited their breakthroughs.
Here, at nine years old, these children experienced the meaning
of life: the happiness that comes from creating important values
that benefit society.
“Oh, what a feeling…” Alan muttered two weeks before the
end of the school year as he handed out the first draft to his
soul mates.

228

————————
Chapter
Nineteen
————————

Less than two weeks before the last day of school, John
Melbourne stopped by Duncan Elementary in the evening after
the children had gone home. He found Jessie in the halls, and
they walked into Jessie’s little janitor’s “office”, closing the door
behind them.
“In two weeks,” John said, “the single most important part
of Annabelle’s life ends, perhaps forever. It’s going to be rough
for her, especially with the added pressure of this trial.”
“I know,” Jessie said. “I feel so rotten about all this. How
do you think she’s going to be?”
“I don’t know. Teaching was everything to her.”
“Do you ever think about just getting away from all this —
just you and her?” Jessie asked.
“I may not have much of a choice.”
“What do you mean, John?”
“We’ll have to see what happens in the trial. I’m just an
alien, you know. If I’m convicted of a felony, they’ll take away
my green card.”
Neither Jessie nor Angie ever thought about that. Jessie was
quiet and sad.
“That’s why I’m looking toward you and Angie to be there
for her if I’m not. I know you will be; I just wanted you to
know I’m not a citizen.

229

I don’t know what could happen. I
haven’t told Anna yet; she’s just got too much to think about,
so I probably won’t say anything. I can’t change my status
now.”
“I understand,” Jessie said, sadly. He stood up and shook
John’s hand. “If you get through this trial OK, I hope we get
to know each other a lot more.”
“We will, Jessie,” John said, putting his free hand on Jessie’s
shoulder.

*

The school days were counting down. The days were warm
and long. Early June was a beautiful time of year in upstate
New York. Just four days to go, and Miss Annabelle took her
class on an all-day picnic/hiking/fishing expedition in the country.
Many years later, this outing would still be a lasting memory
in all twelve students and in Miss Annabelle herself, not because
of any one outstanding event that day, but because of the overall
quality of feelings these thirteen people shared. This happy
feeling together is how life should always be, yet they inherently
sensed the preciousness of that one day.
The children still liked to fill in their Life Charts, and they
had come to realize that life was not permanent. Their lives
were but their string of experiences. And the overall quality of
those experiences, in the end, would rate the quality of their lives.
The children sensed that this day was one of those special
experiences that raised the overall quality of their lives.
They told serious and funny stories during their picnic, they
reminisced, played games, hiked, learned about the land, admired
their final printed Breakthrough News, and fished. Although the
school’s observer was present, she happened to be the same
decent lady who never saw anything to report. Miss Annabelle
and the kids laughed like they had never laughed before. An
onlooker would have said their laughter sounded like an ensemble
of happiness.
During these past two months, it seemed whenever these
twelve students and their teacher got together, especially during
the discussion period, they were always on the verge of some
breakthrough.

230

The atmosphere seemed full of creativity at the
picnic. The kids were all sitting or lying on the picnic blankets
after a long day out in the country when Mr. Melbourne showed
up by surprise at 4:00. He lay down on a blanket next to Miss
Annabelle and listened to the third graders.
After hearing some of their creative talk, Mr. Melbourne
raised his eyebrows and nodded. He said something he’d been
storing up for weeks: “You kids are going to be more successful
than any group of children I’ve ever faced. I know that, and
I’ve been planning to tell you that for some time now.” He
looked around at the little geniuses and thought, I’ve never felt
such camaraderie with anyone as I do with these children and
their teacher.
He smiled at their potential and continued, “The cause of
success and happiness comes from something very deep within.
Some people just seem to be born with it, but that special
something can be identified and developed. You kids are
developing that special something. Everyone can. In fact,
people around you — maybe your brothers and sisters or
parents — might sort of ‘catch’ that special something from
you.
“That elusive, something special that super successful people
have is a deep-rooted motivational drive. That deep-rooted
motivational drive that appears to be inborn keeps pushing them
forward for all their lives. As a result, they steadily rise above
the multitudes around them who do not have that rare, seemingly
inborn drive.
“The key here, once we’ve identified the most fundamental
cause of success, is to understand what causes that cause of
success, that deep-rooted motivational drive. Once we do that,
then we realize the deep motivational drive to success and
happiness is not something we are either luckily born with or
not. Then, we realize we can acquire it and control it. We can
turn it on! In other words, we — anyone — can control his or
her life and make it successful and happy!”
Unable to stand the suspense, Teddy said, “What causes that
deep motivational drive?”
“Oh, I think you know, Teddy,” Mr. Melbourne said, smiling.
Teddy just looked at him, blinking without a clue.

231

“Okay, tell me how you felt when you put together the
division of essence, which took your business to the next level?”
“Wow, I felt excited. I almost couldn’t get to sleep because
I was so excited. Man, I was…”
“Motivated?” Mr. Melbourne queried.
A smile broke open on Teddy’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “I
got really motivated.”
The other kids broke into the same contagious smile.
“Your excitement over your accomplishment fired up your
deep motivation, which in turn drove you into further
accomplishments, which in turn fueled your motivation…and so
on like a cylinder driving the engine. That excitement, by the
way, is the same thrill for life that toddlers experience. Toddlers
are also in that upward spiral of happiness as they get extremely
excited over their accomplishments in learning to talk and
becoming conscious, for example. That’s why they learn to talk
and become conscious beings so rapidly, in about a year, from
two to three. But around six or seven years old, their geometric
learning curves slow way down to gradual learning curves. Their
aggressive upward spiral is increasingly broken by the so-called
‘normal’ world around them. You children know what I mean
— the ‘normal’ world around you cannot relate to what you’re
like. A quick read through your awesome Breakthrough News
demonstrates that!”
The children looked around at each other with huge smiles.
They were very, very proud of their booklet.
“Now, you do feel different from other nine-year-olds, right?”
Mr. Melbourne asked.
“Right…yes.” the kids echoed back.
“I said your deep motivational drives work sort of like a
cylinder engine. Now, the world’s most important question is:
how do people start their engines? If they only knew how to
start their engines, they could drive themselves into success and
happiness.”
Ian, insatiable for knowledge, jumped in and said, “What is
it? What’s the secret?”
“You started your engine,” Mr. Melbourne replied. “Now,
think back to the beginning of the year. Were you different then,
different than now?”

232

Ian paused. He was recalling how he used to be; a look of
shock came over his face. “I used to be what we’re calling
‘normal’. I mean, I had no drive at all and never thought about
things like I do now.”
“So, tell us how you started your engine. What happened?”
Mr. Melbourne asked him.
Ian thought about it for awhile. Then he smiled slowly and
said, “It was when I started putting together thoughts about the
Universe. I started sensing that maybe I was seeing something
not seen before…”
“Stop right there,” Mr. Melbourne said, putting up his hand
in the stop position. “To get to that point where you started
seeing a puzzle-picture never seen before, you had to start
snapping together the puzzle pieces. You started integrating
together facts and concepts as you learned them…until a new
puzzle-picture started forming.”
“Yes!” Ian confirmed. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“Mr. Melbourne,” Teddy said with a distant look on his face
as if he were recalling a different place and time, “I think that’s
what happened to me, too. I was learning every day, just a little
bit at a time, it seemed. Then one day, it all just seemed to
come together into this division of essence.”
Mr. Melbourne looked around at the twelve attentive nine year-olds and said, “Toddlers naturally enjoy the thrill for life
and its deep motivational drive. All others have to get it back.
And as Ian and Teddy demonstrated, people get it back when
they discover integrated thinking.”
“Why?” Ian asked.
“Because,” Mr. Melbourne answered, “the human mind was
designed for dynamic integrated thinking, not static routine
thinking. People get in routine ruts because their integrated
thinking and motivational drives — their upward spirals — got
disintegrated by the world around them dominated with
resignation and routine or specialized thinking. It all goes back
to our mind of the past that was a follower and not a self-leader
like our mind of the future, which I explain in my book. The
reason integrated thinking brings back your motivational drive
is that it opens up your future and removes stagnation — the
way human beings are supposed to live their lives.

233

Through integrated thinking and only through integrated thinking, the puzzle pieces of knowledge start coming together to build a
puzzle-picture, which, as Teddy and Ian learned, is when the
motivation kicks in.”
“How do my parents get into this positive spiral to success?”
Bobby asked.
“They need to start their engines of motivation by learning
how to do integrated thinking as you have done. They need to
start small at work or on a goal. Here’s exactly what they need
to do: they must start integrating percepts into concepts at work.
By doing this, they’ll make little breakthroughs that’ll be potent
contributions to the company. This is how the engine of
motivation always starts in adults…this is how anyone can get
back the drive to success.”
“What are percepts and concepts?” Reggie asked.
“Percepts are what your five senses perceive — what you see,
hear, feel, taste, or smell. You hear thunder; you look up and
see lightning and dark clouds in the Eastern sky; you feel a gust
of wind against your face followed by a steady wind coming
from the direction of those dark clouds. Pulling together those
three percepts — sound, sight, feel — you can jump to the
concept that a storm is coming. Of course, that is the most
simple example of forming a concept. But all concepts come
from percepts, and that’s where adults need to start, and a good
place to start is at work. They must observe recurring problems,
for example, and then through their perceptual observations, jump
to concepts that will solve those problems.”
“I think I know what you’re saying,” Teddy said. “I saw
my numbers drop way down with my sellers; I could hear the
lack of enthusiasm in their voices; I could really feel my
frustration with them…and from pulling together those percepts
letting me know I had a problem and from really thinking hard
about it, I jumped to the whole new concept of setting up my
sellers as their own entrepreneurs on performance pay, as little
companies within my company.”
“There’s an example of observing percepts to discover a
powerful concept that solved a serious problem,” Mr. Melbourne
said as Teddy nodded. “That’s integrated thinking, Teddy.
…Now, you’re taking your concepts and snapping them together
into a puzzle.

234

This is where adults will advance to soon enough:
snapping together concepts into growing success puzzles.
Eventually, never-before-seen puzzle-pictures will form such as
Teddy’s division of essence and Ian’s God-Man Universe.”
“That’s right,” Teddy said, “I did snap together several big
concepts like my mini-companies instead of routine-rut jobs, minidays instead of traditional schedules, power-thinking instead of
no thinking, replicating instead of delegating, tracking reports
instead of letting go of details, essence meetings to cover my
every expectation from my entrepreneurial employees. By
snapping together those concepts one by one, I built my success
puzzle piece by piece. Then the new puzzle-picture formed —
the division-of-essence company structure, outperforming the
traditional division-of-labor structure.”
“Yeah,” Ian said, “I kind of went through a similar step-bystep, concept-by-concept process to build my picture of the
eternal universe controlled by immortal conscious minds.”
“Both of you have major breakthroughs, one in business and
one in physics,” Mr. Melbourne said. “Those are what Miss
Annabelle and I call Neothink breakthroughs that take your fields
of knowledge to the next level. Neothink happened by
snapping together your success puzzles to reveal your new
pictures of future business and physics. But it all started with
pulling together percepts to jump to concepts. That is what
adults must do first. That restarts their engines of deep
motivational drive. In time, they too will snap together
concepts into success puzzles and eventually go to the next
level through Neothink.”
Miss Annabelle sat up and put her arm around Mr. Melbourne
and said lovingly, “You’ve just described the process for tens
of millions of adults to break out of their stagnation-traps to live
the lives they’ve always dreamed of.” She admired her lover
and expressed that she wished she had brought the tape recorder
to have captured this immense value.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “It’s all in my book, and
more.”
The evening shadows grew longer and the temperature
dropped a few degrees. This group of people reluctantly made
their way back to the small school bus.

235

They really loved their world together, but now they had to make their way back into the ‘normal’ world around them.

236

————————
Chapter
Twenty
————————

“It seems just like yesterday,” Miss Annabelle said gently as
she sat alone in her classroom an hour before school would start.
Today was the last day of school, and Miss Annabelle felt as if
she had just begun spending time with these twelve children
whom she loved. It seemed like just a couple of weeks ago she
was singing The Impossible Dream to twelve curious onlookers.
She started remembering back over the school year, week by
week, and she felt overwhelming nostalgia. She did not want
it to end. Her nostalgia was amplified because she would not
be back. If she were here to watch them develop and have
contact with them, she would feel different.
Yet, Miss Annabelle always turned the negatives in her life
around into positives, and she had a plan. Today, she said to
herself, I will start…
Her thoughts were interrupted. With still a half hour before
school was to start, Sally came through the door. Rico was right
behind her.
“Good morning, you two,” Miss Annabelle said, smiling.
“Are you going to teach summer school?” Rico asked,
sounding dejected. Sally nodded her confirmation of the same
question, biting her bottom lip.
Miss Annabelle was touched by their feelings for her.

237

“This will not be good-bye,” she said cheerfully. Immediately Rico
and Sally smiled. Soon, they were joined by their ten classmates.
As Miss Annabelle looked over her classroom, she was
remembering when she did this the first day of school. How
far they’ve come, she thought.
Today, her students looked different from the other students
in Duncan Elementary. Parties and laughter filled the other
classrooms, and the faces of other students beamed with
excitement for summer vacation. But this classroom was
different. The air was somber, and the students looked sad.
“Can I fix those long faces?” Miss Annabelle asked them.
“Miss Annabelle,” Alan burst, “our parents let you down!
They know you’re innocent. They know you’re the reason for
our high test scores. They know you’re why we’re doing things
we’re really proud of. But they didn’t complain to the school.
If our parents didn’t complain, then who would? Who could
save you?”
Miss Annabelle knew Alan was right. So did the other
students. Before she could talk, however, Reggie spoke, “My
mom likes you, I know that. But she’s scared to stand up to
the authorities, even after I begged her to. She let me come
back to finish the year with you; she was able to see through
to what is enough to know the great value you are to me, but
in the end she would not stand up for you. Damn it, that makes
me so mad. It’s like she’s helpless to act on her own mind.
She let the minds of others — people like Ms. Minner and that
politician who died — make her decision for her!”
Miss Annabelle saw how upset Reggie was. The right course
of action seemed so painfully obvious to him and to the other
students, she realized, because their minds worked completely on
their own now. Their passion for what so obviously was right,
and their frustrations with their parents were wonderful signs that
these nine-year-olds now lived in the world of what is.
Therefore, as Miss Annabelle had set out the year to do, they
now had the power.
Reggie’s strong words expressed what others in the class
wanted to say. Again, before Miss Annabelle could talk,
someone beat her to it. She realized the children needed to
express themselves and vent their frustrations.

238

“Most of our parents are good people,” Danny said directly
to Reggie, “and they all have the facts to see through the
illusions. But, good as they are, they don’t stop the firing of
Miss Annabelle. They default at the deepest level of honesty
and turn their power over to authorities.”
Again, Miss Annabelle knew he was right. She knew that
the reason their parents were afraid to act on their own authority
stemmed from their lifelong inability to effectively see through
to the essence of things — to what is. She knew that many
things caused their inefficiency at seeing and acting on reality.
And by not being effective at seeing reality, they turned over
their decisions to the so-called “experts” or “authorities” who,
in turn, obscured reality and manipulated the good people for
selfish ends, just as Hammerschmidt and Minner did. Those
“authorities” were everywhere, including politicians, clergymen,
the media, the Establishment. Good people, she thought, still
had to look outside their own minds for guidance. But not her
students. She knew now, they saw through appearances to what
is so efficiently that they could never accept being told how to
think or act. And that was what bothered them so about their
parents accepting the school firing their innocent and beloved
teacher.
“Unlike you, your parents for the most part do not see reality
efficiently enough to be their own authorities. So, in the end,
they turn their authority over to the leaders,” Miss Annabelle
explained. “You’re equipped to efficiently see and integrate
reality, so you don’t turn over your decision making to the socalled authorities. Most people, including your own parents, are
not able to be their own authorities all the time, like you.
However, two parents did call and fight for me — Sally’s mom
did and Teddy’s dad.”
The twelve students clapped, and Sally and Teddy grinned
from ear to ear, feeling very proud of their special parents.
“As you know,” Miss Annabelle continued, “in today’s world
what is best oftentimes is not what appears to be best. When
I started here, I was told that my job was to ‘teach the children
how to integrate effectively into society’. That sounded good,
like the best thing to do.

239

But, this being the year of my own
awakening, I learned to look beyond appearances to what teaching
really is: ‘teach the children how to someday build magnificent
values that a lot of people want to buy’. Now, look at you…you
have already begun to experience the real excitement of life —
creating values like your Breakthrough News masterpiece. You
feel the excitement and happiness inside and have discovered the
meaning of life. Remember our camping trip? I told you the
meaning of life was the happiness you would feel by making
values for society. And all of you will someday become wealthy
from selling your competitive values. Teddy already is becoming
wealthy, which makes me so proud.”
She stopped to take a moment to absorb those beautiful faces
beaming back at her. During this memory, Bobby raised his
hand.
“Yes, dear?” she said.
“Can I request something?” he asked.
“Sure, Bobby.”
“Okay,” Bobby said, then looked at Teddy. “I was wondering
if Teddy could tell us how our parents can break out of their
stagnant traps?” Bobby loved his parents and knew they wanted
more out of life.
“Sure, I can,” Teddy said.
Bobby smiled gratefully and asked, “Miss Annabelle, could
you record Teddy?”
“I’d love to,” she said, taking the audiocassette over to
Teddy’s desk and pushing the record button.
“First of all,” Teddy began, “it’s so true what you’ve taught
us about seeing through what appears to be to the what is —
to the essence of things. It applies everywhere. A couple of
months ago, my uncle showed me his schedule at work. In about
two minutes, I saw he was trapped in a routine rut. I knew he
would quadruple his effectiveness if he set up his schedule not
task by task, but by the few physical movements he must perform
each day — by mini-days like me. For instance, phone calls
are one physical movement. So I told him to write down a list
of three days of tasks as he did the tasks. From that list, together
we figured out his handful of physical movements and set up
his mini-day schedule. His productivity multiplied four or
fivefold, immediately. He got a bonus and promotion three
weeks later.

240

That happened by looking past what appears to be
efficient…to the essence of efficiency. After he got his bonus
and promotion, I started to wonder about something. You see,
I multiplied the profitability of my business four or fivefold by
dividing my workers into entrepreneurial mini-companies. Of
course, I’m the owner of my company, so I could do that. But
what about my uncle? Well, my dad has risen rapidly in his
company ever since that talk with you that one evening after
school. He started looking past what appears to be best. My
dad has essentially become an entrepreneurial unit with his own
mini-company in his place of work. He absorbed the moneymaking responsibilities by enthusiastically taking over their nitty-gritty details as you told him. He’s now called a project manager
with a team of people under him. …Well, we asked my uncle
to write down his job responsibilities. At first glance, they
appeared to represent a definitive job. But as we thought about
the essence of business, which is making money, we realized how
stagnant his job responsibilities were. They had nothing at all
to do with making money. They amounted to nothing more than
maintaining the business, not moving it forward and making
money. My dad said this was exactly the trap he was in just a
few months ago. As I looked at my uncle’s job responsibilities,
I could not stop from feeling his job was a terrible waste of the
company’s greatest asset — the mind. So, I looked at the
company my uncle worked for as if it were mine. Then, with
both my dad’s and my uncle’s help, we figured out every way
in which the company made money. Therein lay the secret to
breaking this company down into jobs of essence — into the
21st-century division-of-essence business. For each way the
company made money, I asked my uncle what responsibilities
were needed, and I listed those responsibilities under their
corresponding money-making essence. When we finished that,
we realized that we were looking at the company from a
completely different dimension — the division of essence. As
I stared at the different ways the company made its money and
the list of responsibilities under them, I knew that the company
my uncle works for could be divided differently — into profitmaking jobs just like my little company. His company makes
money in six basic ways. In my little company, six ways of
making money might result in only six money-making or
entrepreneurial employees with their mini-companies.

241

In the big
company my uncle works for, you could have several mini-companies in each money-making area with the same set of
responsibilities, and each would have his or her own moneymaking project. Changing them from dead-end routine ruts of
labor to exciting money-making jobs of the mind, well…you
should see the change in my uncle. Like my dad, he absorbed
the money-making responsibilities and is now his own mini-company at his place of work. It’s like he’s alive and young
again, just like my dad!”
“Yes!” Bobby shouted, “That’s exactly what I want for my
parents, too!”
“Teddy, how long did it take your dad and uncle to get from
their routine ruts as you call them to those exciting
entrepreneurial jobs?” Miss Annabelle asked. She knew the
parents would love to know this secret and was glad she was
recording him.
“Oh, it was a very exciting process that lasted a couple of
months,” Teddy explained. “They selected the money-making
area they wanted to move into, and they targeted the
corresponding responsibilities. They didn’t tell anyone what they
were doing, but they started aggressively taking over, one by one,
the nitty-gritty details that made up those responsibilities. They
found that nitty-gritty details are open for the taking, just as you
told my dad. People will easily let go of them and allow
someone eager to take over those tough details. By taking over
those essential details, they gradually absorbed the bigger
responsibilities, one by one. Within two months, they both
created their mini-companies at work. Both my father and my
uncle and, of course, I got so much success by being able to
see past what appears to be best to what is best.”
“That’s a great story, Teddy.” Miss Annabelle said. She
felt the most incredible pride for this young man. His classmates
clapped. Most of them planned to bring the idea home to their
folks.
“The power behind Teddy’s story,” Miss Annabelle continued,
“is that he can efficiently see through to the essence of things
and therefore, uses the authority of his own mind and does not
turn his authority over to ‘the way it is’. This is how
breakthroughs are made.

242

This is how society progresses.
Through this process of seeing through what appears to be best
to what is best, you can take things in life to the next level never
seen before as Teddy is doing in business. I liken Teddy to
Henry Ford, being able to cut through ‘the way it is’ to
something altogether different and better.”
Teddy’s eyes opened big and he blinked several times. He
was just compared to his hero.
“Mr. Melbourne and I think Teddy is building piece by
logical piece the world’s next business paradigm. Henry Ford
did this in the 1920s as he developed the assemblyline, which
perfected the division of labor and brought mass production to
the world. Before that, everything was more or less handmade
in limited supply. Whereas Ford perfected labor’s role in
business, Teddy is perfecting the mind’s role in business. Mr.
Melbourne and I believe most businesses will shift to the division
of essence in the next few years.”
Teddy was blushing and bursting with pride.
“And I see comparisons between Ian and Copernicus,” Miss
Annabelle continued. Ian sat up to the edge of his seat when
he heard his name mentioned next to his hero; his teacher
explained why, “Copernicus completely changed the way we
looked at the Universe. Until he came along, we thought Earth
was at the center of the Universe and the Sun, planets, and stars
circled us. Looking up at the sky, that geocentric or ‘earth
centered’ explanation seemed quite logical. But Copernicus saw
through that appearance to what is. He built that breakthrough
piece by logical piece until he saw a brand new puzzle-picture
forming, taking the cosmos to the next level — the heliocentric
or ‘sun centered’ perspective of our solar system. I also see
Ian building a breakthrough, piece by logical piece, and I see a
puzzle-picture forming not seen before — the God-Man Universe.
Until now, everyone looked at the Universe as controlled by mass
and energy. Ian sees through that appearance to what is — the
Universe is controlled by consciousness millions of years more
advanced than earthlings. Mr. Melbourne and I both believe Ian
is developing a profound, Neothink breakthrough.”
Now Ian was blushing and bursting with pride.

243

“Remember this as you leave my class and go forward: do
not glide through life — pierce through appearances! The other
day at recess, I heard two older boys arguing who would be
better for the country — a white president or a black president.
Then I was so proud when Danny interrupted and showed them
that anything or anyone who rules over us is wrong. The things
Danny said sounded like pieces to yet another success puzzle that
could lead to a powerful political breakthrough. For example,
one of the boys started arguing that we owe a living to some
unfortunate people trapped at the bottom of society. He said
we historically suppressed blacks, and now we ‘owe them’.
Welfare and other handouts by the government were good and
necessary, he said. A black president would assure such public
good, he concluded. Danny then, very benevolently, said, ‘You
will become a slave all over again, this time to the government,
with that kind of thinking. Freedom comes from producing
values — producing your own way is how you get
independence.’ Danny went on to turn this eleven-year-old’s
thinking around. Danny finished his mission by saying,
‘Politicians are political animals. Their talk about the public
good is like a wife beater saying baby, I love you. It sounds
good, but when you see through it, you realize it keeps you
sticking around for more abuse.’ …Danny, you were
magnificent.”
Danny was blushing. “I got the wife beater idea from one
of your lectures,” he said.
Miss Annabelle smiled and continued, “I see several success
puzzles starting to form in your Breakthrough News. I see
Neothink working in all of you; it’s exciting and rewarding!”
Miss Annabelle’s gaze focused on Sally. Her emotional
maturity, displayed in her contribution to Breakthrough News, was
breathtaking. Sally saw through appearances to what is the
meaning of life and death. Her depth of the value of human
life went beyond anything Miss Annabelle had seen before. The
only thing wrong with life, as Sally so well demonstrated, was
death. Everything else could be corrected. Death could not.
Sally vowed to someday cure cancer and work toward the
elimination of human death itself.
“Nothing I’ve ever seen even came close to expressing the
value of human life the way you have, Sally.

244

I see a couple
of possible success puzzles forming for you. One is medical
research to cure cancer, aging, and death. The other is emotional
research into why people do not resist death as the worst natural
disaster and aging as man’s worst plague…a disease that is 100%
fatal that must be cured. In either case, you’re on your way.”
Miss Annabelle savored the moments…their last precious
moments together as a class. She knew she had accomplished
what she had set out to do. In fact, she now realized she never
had a completely clear focus on what she was hoping to
accomplish because she had never witnessed the Neothink
mentality before her twelve students showed her. So, on this
day, the results of her goal were fresh and exciting. Those results
were concretized and forever captured in the Breakthrough News
publication. For Miss Annabelle, that publication was the final
exam from her students. And in it, she witnessed her students
go to the next level beyond people today.
Filled with pride, filled with nostalgia, she continued her talk,
“All of you are using common denominators to form concepts,
and then using those concepts like puzzle pieces to form success
puzzles. …Rico, who would have ever thought to separate
criminals by two different common denominators — by those
who committed a crime through force or fraud versus those who
committed a crime not through force or fraud, but through
breaking some political-policy law or regulation.”
Rico was smiling. He had spent many days in the prison’s
visiting room the past five years. His father was imprisoned three
of those years and his uncle the past two years. While visiting
the prison, Rico began to notice a clear distinction in looks
between those who committed a crime of force or fraud versus
those who committed a crime not through force, but through
breaking a law or regulation created by politicians or bureaucrats.
The distinction became so evident to Rico that he would play a
little game when he visited: he would observe a man for about
an hour, then decide in his head what category he fell into. Then
he would ask his father why the man was in prison. Rico was
right most of the time.
Rico came to realize the men who were in prison because
of political reasons were different — they were good people for
the most part. They shouldn’t be in here, he’d conclude.

245

Rico sat quietly but proudly after Miss Annabelle
complimented him. But Danny spun around in his chair and said
to Rico, “Yeah, Riccy. I wanted to tell you what a great piece
you wrote about those two concepts of law and regulations.
You’re right on about that.”
“Thanks,” Rico said modestly. He was quiet, but he felt a
wonderful power within. He now easily saw through illusions
and perceptions that had trapped his family for generations before
him and had previously begun to trap him, too. He could not
get over how good he felt now. Seeing reality for what it is
feels spectacular, he thought.
“I want to thank you, Miss Annabelle,” Rico said, overcoming
his shyness. “Anyone could have shown me another path than
I was on before — the good path. But it would have never
changed me. But you showed me how to think…how to see
through illusions to what is, and that changed me because I was
able to discover, through my own thinking, the good path. Thank
you.”
Rico’s words were said with sincerity and sensitivity. Coming
from this little nine-year-old tough guy, they slammed into Miss
Annabelle’s heart and stuck on it like a heavy plunger. God,
I’ll miss him, she thought. But, she knew his life would be a
good one now. …With a heavy but happy heart, she continued.
“Each of you demonstrated signs of Neothink in your
Breakthrough News,” she said glancing around the room.
“Jeremiah, that was a powerful common denominator you
identified that keeps churches going today despite their growing
problems with scientific facts. You’re absolutely right: churches
do offer substantial life advantages because of their social
networkings. I love your idea of starting a new, scientifically
sound church someday, emphasizing that common denominator
of great social networking as the building block while working
toward a common goal of achieving biological immortality before,
not after, you die.”
“I love that idea too,” Sally said.
“What an exciting set of concepts you have, Jeremiah, from
the value of such a church to the marketing ideas of such a
church,” Miss Annabelle continued, still impressed by Jeremiah’s
conception of an entirely new church to outcompete the waning
religions today.

246

Jeremiah, a humble fellow on the outside but stirring thinker
within, was quick to give credit where it was due. “My idea
came off of the God-Man theory of the Universe, in which we
would never die,” he said. “Also, your lecture on life being the
highest value in the Universe made me realize that biological
immortality is the most important goal, and religion should be
focussed that way. Also, Mr. Melbourne taught me about how
religions, including today’s religions, came out of the past,
primitive mind.”
“And you took all those concepts and began snapping them
together into a completely new puzzle-picture never seen before,”
Miss Annabelle said. “You’ll succeed with the new church,
Jeremiah, because you know how to go down to the common
denominators of people’s needs. I started the school year by
saying that you children would learn how to make values that a
lot of people want to pay money for. Well, you have learned
how to do that…by going down to the common denominators
of many people’s common needs. That’s where the greatest
values await to be discovered and the greatest marketing ideas,
too. You’ve got a nice start, Jeremiah.”
Miss Annabelle glanced around again, then stopped, spotting
her next subject. “There’s the master synthesizer, Alan Patterson.
He organized and narrated this diverse set of subjects into one
integrated publication. He tied all those subjects together under
one common denominator: breakthroughs that jump to the next
level, a common denominator of great interest to a lot of people.”
“That’s right,” Teddy added. “That’s proving out, too, with
the number of the Breakthrough News that I’m selling. I tell
people it’s the next evolution of money, power, and love.”
“Congratulations Alan. Congratulations Teddy.
Congratulations every one of you!” Miss Annabelle said. She
could have said that a hundred times and not grown tired of
saying it. It was like congratulating her own children for doing
something no one has done before. Looking over her class of
little geniuses, she stopped when she saw Reggie.
“And what a breakthrough you’re onto, Reggie,” she said.
“You saw through to the essence of music, through the way
things are set up today. Is the essence of music what we see
today?

247

Is the essence of music to be decided by an elite
Establishment? As you point out, Reggie, ultimately the
consumers and artists must hold the power in a mutual, supply-and-demand value exchange. You say the music industry is like
a big balloon waiting to be popped by piercing through to a
direct consumer/artist exchange that eliminates the enormous but
unnatural power held by the brokers. I think you’re right on
with your point that the music industry still needs to be run
through business, but through a new business format set up more
like an indifferent supplier bringing endless choices to the people
instead of feeding the market with its relatively select few
choices. That way, the consumer, not the elite, make their own
choices. You pierced through powerful illusions to the essence
of music. And you’re absolutely right: if you figure out the right
business format that is true to the essence of music — the
consumer/artist value exchange — the whole industry would
change to that consumer/artist value exchange you talk about, and
there would be no more Establishment controlling the music
industry or any of the arts for that matter.”
Miss Annabelle knew that Reggie was on to something
powerful that could change the world of art once some
entrepreneur figured out the right business format. She wondered:
would that someone be Reggie himself someday?
Miss Annabelle looked around the room to savor these
geniuses before her. They were geniuses because during the year
they had advanced into the new mentality that saw through
appearances to what is. By being able to know reality
effectively, they did not need to turn their authority over to the
“experts” such as politicians, clergy, and others who tell people
how to live. Because these children so effectively saw the
essence of things, they became their own authorities as they
efficiently, naturally integrated reality into broad puzzle-picture
understandings that others could not reach. These children were,
at nine years old, going to the next level of living.
Miss Annabelle rested her eyes on the slim beauty who
represented physically the metamorphosis the students went
through psychologically. As with Cathy, their minds went from
uncompetitive and out of shape to potent beauties

248

Miss Annabelle continued, “Cathy, dear, you pierced through all the
illusory diets out there and went to the essence of dieting. You
showed us in Breakthrough News a diet based on the three forces
of nature: hunger, cravings, and fullness. Once you got past all
the illusionary diets…down to the essence of dieting at this
biological level, you developed the most effective diet I’ve ever
seen. As you so clearly showed us, the essence of dieting is
removing hunger and cravings while adjusting fullness levels
downward, which you proved! I think your diet can help millions
of people, just like it helped you. Congratulations, beautiful!”
The class gave Cathy an ovation. Cathy smiled and blushed.
These days, she was always smiling.
“Another breakthrough came from you, Nattie,” Miss
Annabelle said, looking across the room at the attractive brown-eyed blonde. “You cut through to the essence of what happiness
is made of. But how obvious you make that age-old mystery:
Man is a social animal, as you say, and he gets his pride and
happiness by putting values into society. Your short story about
the scientist who is the only survivor on the planet after a
cataclysmic event is powerfully moving. With no society, he
can’t feel happiness. That anecdote underscores that value
production for society is the essence of happiness, for your poor
survivor has no society to produce values for, thus can feel no
happiness. Without a society for which to inject one’s value
production, there can be no value reflection…no pride or
happiness. Nattie, you really pierced through a very difficult
subject that has befuddled humanity through all ages: what is
the meaning of life? Once you answer happiness, then you must
ask: what is happiness? You, Nattie, answered that elusive
question once and for all, clearly and convincingly, with your
short story Sole Survivor.”
Ian turned around to talk to Natasha. “I love that story about
Sergio,” he said. “I like the part where he was so unhappy he
was about to take his own life when that last-second survival
pressure, just as he squeezed the trigger, made him break through
to realizing the existence of the Civilization of the Universe.
That was thrilling. Suddenly, he had a civilization. Now he
had to figure out how to create values for it.”
“But how?” Reggie joined in. “Finally, he realized how: He
spent his life learning and developing magnificent classical music.

249

He then sent his beautiful creations — his music — into the
Universe through continuously running radio beams. He thought,
someday, other civilizations would discover his music, and it
would live on as an eternal value in distant planets. I thought
that was thrilling. …My favorite part was his passion to learn
how to create great music, knowing his valuable creations would
someday live on in the Civilization of the Universe. I can see
why that made Sergio a very happy man, even though he was
all alone.”
“That was so emotional,” Sally added, “when Sergio was old
and dying. I cried when he went around and turned the speakers
all the way up on all the radio stations in the valley where he
lived, all alone. He was beaming his music into the Universe
while also listening to it for the last time. That was so sad when
he lay down on the comfortable grass that night to die. It was
like I could see him lying on his back, all alone, looking into
the cosmos above him, listening to his beautiful creations boldly
filling the valley, from mountainside to mountainside. That was
just so sad as he lay with a smile on his face, immensely proud
and happy, sharing his last moments with his greatest creations.”
“I cried too,” Cathy said, “as his favorite piece played proudly
across the valley floor, and Sergio yelled out, ‘I wish I could
travel with you, my love! You must journey to distant
civilizations and live forever in the Civilization of the Universe.
You will be loved by many. You make me so very, very proud.
But my time has come; I must say good-bye. Tonight I will
leave you, my companion, my love. You must find other ears
to listen to you, to admire you, to love you as I have. Go now
on your journey. Go now, my love, and find a new home. Make
millions of people happy. You are free!’”
Everyone in the classroom took a deep breath, and then
Danny continued Natasha’s short story:
“When the morning light rose over the valley, it found
Sergio’s lifeless body lying on the bed of grass. His face still
had a smile on it. Conscious life no longer existed on Earth,
but his wonderful music proudly played on and filled the lonely
land with its final triumphant sounds of human consciousness.
…That was really moving.”

250

“It was a stunning story,” Miss Annabelle said. And, she
thought, it was also a beautiful metaphor of the lonely yet happy
God-Man on Earth who was not as fortunate as herself to be
surrounded by soulmates, instead left all alone, surrounded by
the anticivilization. …What value that Breakthrough News brings
its reader! These are just nine-year-olds, she thought, and they’re
answering centuries-old mysteries about the meaning of life, love,
religion, politics, physics, wealth and power! Miss Annabelle
could not stop wondering: what would these dozen children be
like as adults? I mean, she said to herself while shaking her
head, Natasha knows more about happiness and love than any
woman or mother I’ve ever known! How can that be? …Yet,
Miss Annabelle knew the answer to her own question: these
twelve children had gone to the next level…they were now her
twelve God-Men.
“Natasha,” Miss Annabelle continued, “your puzzle-picture
kept on growing to reveal the answers to love that could save
marriages. More and more marriages today end in divorce.
People don’t understand the essence of love. You continued
expanding your puzzle about happiness and showed us that
happiness is needed first in order to feel and sustain romantic
love. Value production is the essence of happiness, and you
showed us a man’s value production comes through his
livelihood. Value reflection is the essence of love, and you
showed us a man’s value reflection comes most through his wife
and children. You’re so right that a person must know and
admire and reflect his or her spouse’s value production in order
to have value reflection. That, in fact, keeps the love alive and
burning, like your mom and dad’s renewed love affair. I love
your true story about saving your mom and dad’s marriage by
understanding this value production/value reflection dynamic.
…Your piece on the essence of love helps me in my
relationship!”
The twelve children laughed. …What a shame I didn’t have
more students than just twelve, Miss Annabelle thought, for she
knew that the natural competitive pressures pushed all twelve
students to the next level of Neothink and would have pushed
thirty students to the next level if her class would have been
that big. Next, she looked at Debbie.

251

She wrote a remarkable article
about her parents’ restaurants and her first taste of Neothink. For
the past two and a half months, she spent evenings and weekends
in her parents’ two hamburger restaurants. She learned every
imaginable detail and searched for common denominators. She
was determined to make the breakthrough that would let her
parents achieve their dream of expanding their business, which
seemed stuck at this level for years.
Debbie made a number of little breakthroughs among the
details that improved efficiency. But she came to learn that the
problem of not being able to expand was not an operations or
personnel problem. As Teddy had once suggested, she learned
the problem had to be either in marketing or in the product.
Both the product and marketing were satisfactory, but something
was needed, something not known to her parents before, in order
to go to the next level. So, Debbie started studying the
customers’ eating habits, searching for common denominators.
She had to break through the way things were now to something
new. She also sat for long periods of time in McDonald’s.
There, she spotted a common denominator: almost everyone,
regardless of their order, also got the golden fries. The more
she watched, the more convinced she became that the fries caused
an “addiction” that brought people back, over and over again.
Debbie thought the people did not themselves realize that the
fries (not the hamburgers) were behind their trips to McDonald’s.
The children, too, ate their fries and ate them first. It all
happened on a subconscious level, Debbie believed. But
McDonald’s had to be aware of the secret of the fries, for the
combo meals with fries costs about the same as ordering the
burger and drink separately, without fries. In other words, the
fries were given out, more or less, for free.
So, she talked about her observations with her parents. They
decided to give fries away, free of charge, with a purchase of
any hamburger and drink. One month later, sales were up 40%.
Based on those results, her parents were in the process of
changing the name of the restaurants from Kirkland Burgers to
Debbie’s French Fry City with the marketing hooks: “free fries
with every order” and “fresh fries cooked every 180 seconds”.
They were planning to open a third restaurant in Buffalo.

252

And they were remodeling the two existing restaurants and purchasing new equipment to display, in plain view, clean stainless steel french fry cookers, with fresh fries cooked every three minutes
and “old” fries discarded. They were perfecting the art of the
perfect, tasty, crispy fry that was “addicting”. Debbie kept close
track of the customers. She recorded a threefold increase in
frequency of repeat customers and scores of new customers. She
knew she had taken the product and the marketing to the next
level.
“Your story of Debbie’s French Fry City was fascinating,”
Miss Annabelle said. “Debbie’s French Fry City is on its way
to the next level because of your Neothinking. Do you think
your parents will start franchising them?”
Debbie really was excited about her family business and its
growing success that she was now part of. “Yes, we’ve even
been talking about it! And my parents are studying Teddy’s
article about mini-companies, replicating, tracking reports, and
division of essence. Daddy says the division of essence is exactly
how he will set up his franchising!”
Bobby turned to Debbie and said, “Cool! That’s a franchise
I’d suggest people getting into.” All his life, Bobby witnessed
his father and mother stuck in stagnation — despite their natural
ambitions. Bobby helplessly witnessed their dreams fade away.
He remembered them talking with enthusiasm about their goals
when he was still very young. Now, at nine years old, he never
heard them mention those goals. He could never forget their
enthusiasm from the past. They were so happy then, he
remembered. During the last few weeks as Bobby felt his power
to make a difference grow, he became more and more interested
in the idea of finding the right employer for the right people.
Bobby absorbed Teddy’s division of essence concept and was
convinced the division of essence was the answer to so many
people’s stagnation traps. He was convinced that the division
of labor — jobs of labor — was the reason for stagnation traps.
He was also convinced that Teddy’s division of essence, with
its mini-companies creating entrepreneurial jobs, gave people jobs
of the mind. The mind — thinking — was the essence of man
and opened a whole new exciting world to the employee. Bobby
became convinced that the division of essence with its jobs of
the mind was the future of business and jobs.

253

He became obsessed with the idea of bringing ambitious people, like his parents, to those new businesses set up that way. It was the
way back to enthusiasm and happiness for adults, he wrote in
Breakthrough News.
Bobby did not have a specific breakthrough, for he was
working off Teddy’s breakthrough. Nevertheless, Bobby was
searching for common denominators that would let him start
building a success puzzle that would someday take him to the
next level with his passion.
First, Bobby identified that the essence of business was
making money by creating and effectively marketing values,
which meant the essence of business depended on man’s
creativity. Then he demonstrated that the essence of man was
his mind, thinking, creativity. Thus, the most competitive
business structure in the future had to be the division of essence
where the employees — all employees — used their minds
creatively. The employees’ thinking minds were the greatest
assets to any business that previously were wasted in the old
division of labor structure.
He demonstrated how the division-of-essence business would
be quickly filled with ambitious, creative people who would get
as close to filling the business with clones of the original
entrepreneur as can be. Both the business and the employee
would break through to the next level.
“You have become so motivated, Bobby, to bring ambitious
working people together with the new division of essence
business,” Miss Annabelle said. She was delighted to see such
passion take root. Bobby had seen that Teddy’s new business
paradigm was the answer to his parents’ stagnation traps and to
all stagnation traps. As far as Bobby was concerned, the whole
business world had to change. And he wanted to bring together
ambitious people with those businesses as they changed.
“I haven’t figured out how to bring them together yet,” Bobby
said, “but I will. I know it can be done. There must be some
way to find the right companies for the right people.”
Miss Annabelle marveled at the intellect of her students.
They had gone to the next level of integrated thinking, and onto
Neothink. Their mentality was different than others. They had,
at nine years old, evolved into our next evolution: God-Man.

254

As God-Man, they did not think in percepts, one thought, one
perception at a time as most people. Instead, they thought in
pictures. Their minds sought common denominators, pulling
together percepts into powerful concepts and then snapping
together those concepts as pieces of growing puzzles to reveal
never-before-seen puzzle-pictures.
As Teddy and Bobby exchanged some ideas, Mr. Melbourne
walked into the classroom. He was the other person who really
belonged with this group of people. The children smiled, waved,
and said, “hi!” They loved him.
“Class,” Miss Annabelle said, “As you know, Mr. Melbourne
has worked on a book for over a decade — since before you
were even born! Today, he wanted to reveal a bit of it for the
first time — to us…”
“Whoa! Yeah! Wahoo! Alright!” shouted several students.
Their reaction was impulsive and genuine. They felt this was
a treat and felt honored. Mr. Melbourne raised an eyebrow and
smiled.
“Hi kids!” he said to the applauding class. “You twelve
children have impressed me over and over again since I’ve known
you. Your teacher has impressed me, too.” The kids laughed,
catching the second meaning to that comment. Mr. Melbourne
smiled and continued, “You’re a unique group, a unique little
society, that has advanced to the next level — into a new mind
of the future that I’ve spent over ten years identifying in my
book. You’re the manifestation or the evidence of my
hypothesis.”
He paused to gather his bearings of where to begin. After
some thought, he said, “Last night, your lovely teacher talked
to me for a long time. She was proudly telling me all the many
different success puzzles you’re building. I also read about
those growing success puzzles in your stunning Breakthrough
News. But the surprising thing is, of the wide diversity you
present, all of it is tied together by a common denominator: all
twelve of your very different success puzzles do the same thing
in their respective areas — they get rid of the external
authorities. Think about it: the mind of nearly everyone else
outside this room is ultimately controlled by external authorities.

255

But you represent the next mentality — everything you wrote
in your Breakthrough News eliminates the external authority.
What is the new mentality, the mind of the future? It’s putting
authority from ‘out there’ to inside yourself. You can do that
only if you effectively see through illusions to what is. You
children can do this, so you’re dumping external authorities left
and right in every area that interests you and making
breakthroughs that take those areas to the next level. You are
your own authority integrating what is, free of external guidance.
You build your own mental maps for guidance. You represent
the next evolution of man!”
The children were very proud of themselves. The amazing
thing was: they knew exactly what Mr. Melbourne was talking
about. They looked up to him and respected him. His
impression of them was very important to them.
“Let’s quickly go back and see this common trait among the
twelve of you: Bobby, you’re not accepting the status quo in
the way almost all jobs are set up. You’re dumping that external
authority for a better way based on your own authority of seeing
what is — Teddy’s division of essence, in particular. And Teddy
didn’t accept jobs of labor and their routines dictating the
unthinking human being. He went to the next level, dumping
the external authority in the form of a routine dictating us…doing
our work in an unthinking, following mode. He replaced that
external authority, that we blindly follow, with the internal
authority of our thinking minds — jobs of the mind — the
entrepreneurial mini-companies where we think for ourselves to
build values. Danny wants to end politicians and bureaucrats
telling us how to live — needless external authority — and limit
their power to protection only. Jeremiah wants to jump past
religion and the clergy demanding blind faith — destructive
external authority — and replace it with the integrating, scientific
mind. Sally wants to remove the corrupt FDA — destructive
external authority — and free up research for the hard thinking,
entrepreneurial mind. Reggie wants to rid the elite control —
the external authority — over the music industry. Ian breaks
through staid scientific Establishment perspectives like the point
of origin and the mass/energy view of the Universe and breaks
through religious external authority to bring our understanding
to the next level where God-Man uses his internal authority —
his mind — to control the cosmos.

256

Rico differentiates bad law
based on force versus good law based on protection from force.
He wants to eliminate bad laws under gun-backed external
authority created by image-seeking politicians. Debbie simply
does not accept the common external authority that one reaches
his or her limit and levels off and must passively accept
stagnation. Natasha does not accept similar external authorities
— the emotional norms of limited happiness and lost love —
for she broke through to God-Man’s natural state of intense
happiness and intense love, forever. Cathy broke through her
external authorities — her parents — trying to convince her to
overeat. And Alan, you orchestrated a publication that breaks
through the views of the two external authorities that envelop
everyone in this country — the media and the Establishment with
their agenda-driven illusions.”
The children looked a bit surprised. Mr. Melbourne was right
— a very simple common denominator did tie all their success
stories together. Their successes seemed to grow from the same
seed: dumping external authority for internal authority. How
elegantly simple, they thought. …What exactly is this external
authority thing, anyway? They wondered.
“Outside this room, almost everyone is guided by external
authorities,” Mr. Melbourne continued, and as if reading their
minds, he said, “What is external authority, where did it come
from, and why does almost everyone follow it? Before Ancient
Greece, man was not like man today. His entire existence was
guided by oracles and god-kings who ‘heard’ the gods telling
man what to do, especially in stressful situations. The oracles
and the god-kings and even the common man himself hallucinated
the ‘voices’ of the gods. Of course, we now know that those
‘voices’ of the gods were audio hallucinations. But 3000 years
ago, important decisions were made by those external authorities
— by those ‘voices of the gods’.
“As civilizations evolved and man left behind those audio
hallucinations, he still sought external authority. He simply
switched from the ‘voices’ of the gods and god-kings to the
voices of the church fathers and politicians. But today, such
religious and political leaders are unnecessary because man has
the ability to integrate reality to know what is and to act on his
own authority as a self-leader.

257

However, today man still looks
to leaders to guide him. You are the first group of people I’ve
witnessed who naturally turn inward to your own, integrating
minds for guidance. Always seeing through to the essence of
things, you rely on your own minds to see what is as the
authority, not what ‘experts’ or leaders tell you per se. Therefore,
illusions used by leaders for easy power and money do not affect
you. You represent a new mentality altogether. People around
you still function under a modern-day format of the ancient
mentality — seeking external authority for guidance. You
function under the brand-new God-Man mentality: broadly and
honestly integrating knowledge to know what is, then using the
authority of your own minds to lead your lives.”
“Why do you and Miss Annabelle call it God-Man?” Ian
asked.
“The reason I think God-Man is a good description goes back
to the hallucinated ‘voices’ of the gods. I have been in
communication with a psychology professor at Princeton
University who is doing some amazing work on our ancient
mentality over 3000 years ago. He’s demonstrated that human
nature was split in two: an executive part called a god and a
follower part called a man. The imagined god was the authority,
and the man was the follower. A few hundred years later, the
two parts of the mind — the executive part and the follower part
— were starting to integrate together as one powerful mind,
which gave rise to history’s most powerful minds: the great
Greeks during Ancient Greece. The authority or the god part
of human nature became part of man’s mentality — the God-Man mentality of that ancient time. But master neocheaters of
the Western World figured out how to return man to a follower
so those neocheaters could rule over civilization. Those self-serving educated elites — the scholars of the Church — split
the god part or the authority off to a God in heaven. Man was
now nothing more than a follower to be led by the leaders of
the Church in the name of God. That reversed humanity for a
thousand years, now known as the Dark Ages. Mankind was
caught in some kind of weird mutation of the ancient mentality.
Once again, man sought to be led by external authorities, and
those external authorities became our leaders who used illusions
to rule over us for easy money and power.

258

“Today, you twelve children represent the modern pioneers
breaking free from that mutation of the ancient mentality. You
are integrating the executive part or god-part of human nature
with the man-part. You are the first — at least since the great
Greeks — to advance into the God-Man mentality. There’s no
telling how far you will go in your lifetimes.”
Miss Annabelle’s heart was pounding with pride as her lover
described what was happening to her students. Her students’ eyes
were opened wide with wonder. Their eyes were glued to Mr.
Melbourne. She knew he was right. They knew he was right,
for they could feel their power to cut through the leaders’
illusions to the essence of things and to make their own decisions.
They really were different from those around them, and they
knew it. Yes, they were the God-Man. …Ian had a special
feeling going on inside him, for he had been calling the advanced
beings who control the cosmos the God-Man because they were
men with the control and power of God. Now, Mr. Melbourne
was calling Ian and his classmates the God-Man. “I really am
one of them,” he thought.
“Thank you, Mr. Melbourne,” Miss Annabelle said into the
silent room. Her voice brought her children back from the depths
of their thoughts, and they clapped and smiled. They loved Mr.
Melbourne. His value reflection and articulation of who they
were gave them pride and confidence for the years ahead.
The kids sat peacefully. “We live for happiness,” Miss
Annabelle continued. “As Natasha so well demonstrated in
Breakthrough News, happiness comes to man — a social animal
— by putting values into society. That’s how human beings earn
pride and happiness. They feel large doses of their earned
happiness from reflections of admiration and love from their
spouses and children and fellowman. The meaning of life —
happiness — comes from value production and is felt through
value reflection. In other words, happiness comes from producing
values and is felt during time celebrated together with loved ones
and friends.
“There’s also room in our hearts to feel love for those
individuals who bring great values to society. Those geniuses
of society are raising our standards of living.

259

Of course, I know you’ll cut through the illusions of our variety of leaders in the media, in the government, and in law who orchestrate class envy against those geniuses of society. You’ll never fall into that trap that builds resentment against success. We’ve had a taste of this
envy with our own battles with the principal and the school-district superintendent.”
The nine-year-olds knew exactly what she was talking about.
They looked up to the geniuses of society, the great value-and-job creators now and in the past, with great admiration. Miss
Annabelle knew they did, but she wanted to state it to help
counteract what will be drummed into their heads in the years
to come, for resentment toward success would hurt their own
deep motivation to be successful.
“Now that you know the meaning of life is happiness, and
now that you know how to create and experience happiness, I’ll
tell you how to someday multiply your happiness! That’ll bring
you the greatest feeling life offers. …Someday, you’ll have
children, and seeing your children become happy value producers
making their dreams come true will multiply your own happiness.
I know because I felt my happiness multiply many times over
as I watched you advance toward happy value producers. Or,
maybe I should say, value creators, for you’re creating values
that never existed before. Watching you children do this…well,
it’s the greatest joy a grown-up can feel.”
Her comment sparked curiosity among her students. She was
talking about their children. The students did not recognize the
pleasant feeling that filled them; they had never felt this way
before. They felt unusually warm and special. Without knowing
what it was, they felt good that their teacher thought about their
well-being…so far into the future.
Rico raised his hand. His teacher nodded toward him, and
he said, “But how would we do that? You’re a professional
teacher, and I don’t know if any of us will be teachers. So,
how can we do for our kids what you did for us?”
Miss Annabelle knew that Rico seldom saw his father while
growing up. She said, “You can bring your children into the
new God-Man mentality in less than five minutes a day. You
don’t need to educate them; they can even go to public schools
for that — as long as you show them one thing: show them how
to penetrate what appears to be to what is.

260

You want to break through traditional ways of looking at things, just as you did in Breakthrough News. Your example teaches their young minds to cut through illusions to what is. From there, as you know,
mental puzzles of powerful knowledge grow, and eventually your
children will create new values for the world. Also, from the
emotional side, tell them bedtime stories about the great value
producers who brought our many values to the world. All this
can be done in a daily bedtime story — in a five-minute story
each day.
“Let me take you back in history to demonstrate this secret
to bringing your future children into little God-Men. I figured
this out, believe it or not, on Christmas Day five months ago.
During the Age of the Greeks, the great minds — the ancient
God-Men — got a good education, yes, but they also had
exposure to an accomplished philosopher or scientist. Sometimes
that philosopher or scientist was hired to live with the pupil.
Aristotle, for example, lived with and was mentor of Alexander
the Great. Aristotle’s mentor was Plato. Plato’s mentor was
Socrates. The same format took place during the Renaissance:
the great Renaissance men studied under accomplished or
renowned artists, inventors, philosophers, or scientists. Those
great minds grew not out of the many hours of good education,
per se. They grew from Neothink seeds planted in, perhaps, five
minutes a day. Those seeds were the stories told by the mentors
that broke through the normal way of thinking. Those boundary-breaking talks taught the student’s mind, at a young age, to break
through boundaries, go through appearances to what is. With
reality, they could start integrated thinking and eventually
Neothink to go to the next level. The general lectures I gave
you each morning were examples of this type of talk that pushed
your minds through the traditional boundaries of thinking created
by external authorities. Now you use your own minds; you see
through illusions; you see what is; you see common
denominators, and you build success puzzles. You never look
toward external authorities on how to live; instead your own mind
honestly integrates reality and has become the authority.

261

To get to this point, I talked to you for about forty-five minutes a day,
and that was enough for you to make the jump out of the ancient-
mentality mutation to the new God-Man mentality. But we only
had nine months together. If you spread that time over fifteen
years, you’re well under five minutes a day. So, you bring your
children into this happy new world with you, and your happiness
will soar. I know, because my happiness has soared this past
year, seeing you come into this new world with me.”
Sally raised her hand slowly.
“Yes, Sally?” Miss Annabelle said.
“But…well…are we going to be together anymore?”
Sally had asked a powerful question, for this group was its
own civilization, different from the rest of the world. How could
it end now?
“It would be a crime to split us up,” Miss Annabelle said,
and she could feel the tension leave the room. Twelve sets of
little shoulders relaxed and dropped an inch or two. “I’ll hold
a class every Thursday afternoon at my house from 3:30 to 5:00.
I’ll lecture for 45 minutes to an hour, and we’ll have our
discussion group for the remaining 30 to 45 minutes. We’ll
always keep this class going and our group together.”
This good news put smiles on her twelve little God-Men.
Now, they could enjoy themselves again and feel the celebration
of life. For, this was another beautiful day full of precious,
bigger-than-life memories.

262

II.
Separation

————————
Chapter
Twenty-One
————————

The ominous storm cloud had finally blown in: the trial date
had arrived.
Salinski’s case was well prepared. He had subpoenaed
Hammerschmidt’s ex-wife and former girlfriend as witnesses. In
depositions, they both told of Hammerschmidt’s violent side
inspired by perverse, sexual satisfaction. Both women got out
of their relationships with Hammerschmidt because of his neurotic
behavior.
Salinski felt their testimonies were powerful for his case, but
he also knew that both witnesses had some character issues that
the prosecution would exploit to discredit their testimonies.
While studying the prosecution’s discovery (i.e., material the
prosecution planned to introduce as evidence), Salinski came
across an official looking affidavit on Duncan Elementary
stationery. This was the paper Hammerschmidt brought to Miss
Annabelle that evening as an excuse to get into her house. From
that piece of evidence, Salinski suspected the prosecution would
submit a theory that Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne attacked
the unsuspecting Hammerschmidt out of rage or revenge. The
prosecution charged Mr. Melbourne and Miss Annabelle with
voluntary manslaughter. The prosecution offered, during plea
bargaining, to reduce the charges to involuntary manslaughter,
which Salinski rejected.

265

He believed he could get an acquittal.
Salinski could have delayed the trial for months, perhaps a
full year or longer, with a number of motions. But he and his
clients wanted to get it over with and felt confident and ready.
So, they opted to go straight to trial. Thus, the day after
Independence Day, the trial date had arrived.
Jury selection lasted just one afternoon. Opening arguments
were delivered the next morning.
“We will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr.
Melbourne and Miss Annabelle ambushed an innocent,
unsuspecting Mr. Hammerschmidt who was merely following his
civic duty by delivering an affidavit to Miss Annabelle for her
side of the story in a school inquisition,” the prosecuting attorney
said to conclude his opening argument.
Salinski felt he had the key puzzle parts to snap together the
honest picture, however, that would hold together. “I will show
that Hammerschmidt planned to batter and rape Miss Annabelle.
As he executed his plan, he was surprised by Mr. Melbourne; a
fight ensued, during which Hammerschmidt accidentally inflicted
a fatal wound upon himself that killed him quickly. Mr.
Melbourne immediately called the authorities to help Mr.
Hammerschmidt. Mr. Melbourne and Miss Annabelle acted in
self-defense in exercising their most basic right of protecting
themselves.”
The prosecution called its first witness.
“Your honor, the prosecution calls Ms. Rosemary Minner to
the witness stand.”
“Please state your full name for the record.”
“Ms. Rosemary Minner.”
“Place your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand.
…Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to
give in the case pending before this court will be the truth, the
whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
“Please be seated.”
“Ms. Minner,” the prosecutor said, “what was your
relationship to Mr. Hammerschmidt?”
“He was the superintendent of the school board, of which I
am a member.”

266

“Ms. Minner, tell me what you thought of your school
district’s superintendent.”
“Oh, he was a good man,” Ms. Minner said. “He was a Godfearing Christian. The things the man over there says about Mr.
Hammerschmidt are lies!” She pointed straight at Salinski.
“Are you saying the defense attorney is a liar?”
“Objection your honor!” Salinski said. “The prosecution is—”
“Overruled.”
“Ms. Minner,” continued the prosecutor, “did Mr.
Hammerschmidt ever give you reason to believe he could do
these things the defense attorney is accusing him of?”
“It’s not possible. I know for a fact it’s not possible.”
“Objection.”
“Overruled!”
Miss Annabelle noticed something strange: the judge seemed
to favor the prosecuting attorney over Salinski. She was not sure,
but the judge’s tone of voice and disposition seemed more
tolerant with the prosecution. She wondered if she were just
being paranoid or if her observation could be true. She also
noticed how the judge sat so high in his courtroom, towering
over everyone else. He’s supposed to be an indifferent third
party moderating the trial, she thought. Why would he want to
interfere with the search for justice? But as the day progressed,
she became convinced that the judge was taking the side of the
prosecution. He was also befriending the jurors in the paternal
way he talked to them. Therefore, she thought, his opinion would
carry more weight on his “adopted” jury members.
At an afternoon break, Miss Annabelle asked Salinski, “Why
does the judge rule in the prosecution’s favor almost
unanimously? It seems almost like he’s taking their side.”
Salinski was quiet, not sure how to answer. Mr. Melbourne
looked at Salinski curiously, for Mr. Melbourne had come to the
same conclusion about the judge.

267

The next day, the defense would get their answer. The
prosecution called its witnesses first. At the last minute before
the trial, the prosecution had added three more witnesses to its
list of witnesses. Salinski observed that they were prominent
members of the community: the mayor of Buffalo, the former
lieutenant governor of New York, the district’s congressman.
Salinski knew these witnesses were summoned as character
witnesses on behalf of Hammerschmidt. But he never expected
the judge to become influenced by witnesses — political or
otherwise. Salinski was a good courtroom lawyer, but he was
young. He was about to learn a lesson in ego justice.
The prosecution spent most of the day building its theory that
Hammerschmidt was innocently delivering official school papers
following Miss Annabelle’s upsetting school board meeting.
Salinski felt confident, however, sure he could tear down that
theory. He cross examined the prosecution’s witnesses and nearly
destroyed the theory on cross examination alone. But, in midafternoon, the prosecutor called forth one of the three witnesses
who were added last to the witness list.
He called to the witness stand Congressman Adams. After
being sworn in, the seasoned prosecutor began,
“How long did you know Charles Hammerschmidt, sir?”
“Oh, I’ve known Charlie…excuse me…I knew Charlie for
over 20 years,” the Congressman said in his warmest, trained
voice. “Twenty one years ago, when my daughter was a few
months old, I was a struggling lawyer just out of law school.
It was tight rationing for awhile. Once, when it got too bad
for my family, he loaned me two thousand dollars. He was an
assistant accountant at the time. Two thousand dollars was a
lot of money to him. But that was the kind of man Charlie was.
He’d loan his next paycheck to a person in need.”
Salinski felt sick. His gut legal sense knew this was just
fantasy rhetoric, so he objected on grounds that there was no
evidence of this so-called $2000 loan. But he was caught off
guard with the judge’s seemingly uncharacteristic response:
“Overruled! Mr. Salinski, the honorable Congressman Peter
Adams has been our district’s esteemed congressman for over
ten years. His word is respected in New York, and it’s respected
in this courtroom.”
Salinski sat down, in shock.

268

What a subjective statement,
he thought, right in a court of law! He had not yet run into
this sort of thing in which the judge took a position and then
worked his agenda into his court.
The next day, more would follow. Salinski was helpless at
stopping the prosecution, the political witnesses, and the judge.
That political team had an agenda and was creating a fraudulent
fantasy about Hammerschmidt’s character. Obviously,
Hammerschmidt was politically well connected. Moreover, most
politicians were his soul mates and would do whatever it took
to support him, regardless of lies or injustice, especially if they
could personally look good doing so.
By the third day of the trial, the prosecution had completed
its case. Salinski felt ambushed by a political agenda.
Hammerschmidt’s character had been built up beyond harm. He
was like a legendary philanthropist in the eyes of the vulnerable
jury. The judge not only allowed, but saw to it that the jury
was dazzled by the three political witnesses. For Salinski to try
to cut down to size Hammerschmidt’s character with his four
lowly witnesses by comparison would be ineffectual now,
particularly after cross examination. It mattered not what reality
was. The prosecution, led by the judge himself, had created an
illusion that could not be vanished.
Salinski tried his best, but he was fighting a fraud and had
no way to overcome the judge-led prosecution. The judge had
decided it would be best for his political future to tacitly join
the prosecution. It was a tough lesson for Salinski, even tougher
for Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne.
Salinski certainly had powerful witnesses of his own: the
bartender who testified that on the night of his death,
Hammerschmidt was drinking a lot and telling people he was
going to go teach some “little bitch” a lesson after he left the
bar; Hammerschmidt’s ex-wife who testified that Hammerschmidt
did have a drinking problem and that he did physically abuse
her, especially when he was drinking; his ex-girlfriend who
confirmed his ex-wife’s story. But it didn’t matter. Aggressive
cross examination by the prosecutor made these three witnesses
appear either incompetent to give testimony or driven by
vengeance. Although Salinski was able to demonstrate that his
witnesses had no such motives other than to state the truth and
that, indeed, his ex-wife and former girlfriend were genuinely
saddened by his accidental death, the damage had been done.

269

“I remember one night on a flight to Washington D.C., while
we were still married, Charlie had too much to drink,” his ex-wife testified. “Charlie started getting loud and unruly as he
often did when drinking. A stewardess came by and politely
asked Charlie to please keep his voice down. Charlie snapped,
‘Shut up and get me another coke’n rum!’ The small woman
quietly said she couldn’t do that because he had too much to
drink.”
“What happened then?” Salinski asked.
“He went ballistic. He stood up and grabbed shots of rum
from her cart. When she tried to stop him, he pushed her and
she fell down in the aisle of the plane. Instead of sitting back
down, Charlie stumbled toward her and kicked her. Three men
jumped out of their seats and wrestled Charlie back into his seat.
One of those men was big and very tough. He threatened Charlie
pretty harshly. Charlie didn’t get up again after that, but for
weeks he kept telling me how he ‘should’ve beat the daylights
out of that little bitch’. Charlie could hold a grudge for years.”
“Did he ever beat the daylights out of you?”
“Yes,” Hammerschmidt’s ex-wife said. She looked down.
“It’d start after he’d been drinking.” She looked back up at
Salinski.
“Did it happen often?”
She looked down again. “Yes.”
“How severely would he beat you?”
“I’d have bruises, it was pretty bad.”
“Is that why you left him?”
“Yes.”
“No more questions, your honor.”
The prosecution seemed anxious to go after the witness.
Springing to his feet, the prosecutor bellowed, “That’s not what
I hear. I have depositions from several credible witnesses who
say Charlie left you because of your drinking problem. …Do
you have a drinking problem, Miss Kimble?”

270

“I did.” Murmurs spread through the courtroom. “I did while
I was with Charlie.”
“What’s your job now, Miss Kimble?”
“I work at…a club.”
“A club? Is that what you call it — a club? Some people
would call it…a topless bar.”
“I’m raising two children on my own. It pays the bills.”
“And you’re surrounded by low-lifes all day…excuse me…all
night long? Tell me, Miss Kimble, to pay your bills, do you
ever do sexual favors for money?”
“Objection!” Salinski yelled, jumping to his feet in disbelief.
“The prosecution has drifted off the relevant points of the trial,
and into a personal character assassination of the witness.”
“Overruled!”

*

With the help of the judge, the trial became something of a
character-judgment contest between the prosecution’s esteemed
witnesses versus the defense’s lowly witnesses. The point of the
trial seemed to get lost. With outright adulation from the judge,
the prosecution’s witnesses shone as pillars of society who should
be trusted. With implicit disdain from the judge, the defense’s
witnesses sank as lowly alcoholics and irresponsible menaces
to society who should not be trusted. Influenced by the judge,
the jury associated Hammerschmidt to the esteemed witnesses;
the jury associated Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne to the
“low-lifes”. Trapped in the court of ego justice, Salinski did
not stand a chance.
That night, Salinski hoped for a breakthrough. The trial had
slipped between his fingers, and he knew it. The next day would
be the closing arguments. I need to bring everyone back to the
facts, he thought. But he knew that even getting back to the
facts would not be enough, for the credibility behind the
witnesses presenting those facts had been dishonestly destroyed
by the judge. “Is there something even more powerful than the
facts?” he wondered.

271

That night, the team gathered at Salinski’s home: Miss
Annabelle, Mr. Melbourne, Jessie and Angie. As the young
lawyer faced his two clients, he was overcome with remorse.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t expect the trial to go this way.
I’ve never seen anything like this and could’ve never anticipated
it, not even in my darkest imagination.”
“Anticipated what, exactly?” Miss Annabelle asked.
“The judge…it’s like he’s best friends with the prosecution
and those three political witnesses. It almost feels like some
kind of conspiracy. It’s so wrong.”
“We can appeal if we lose,” John Melbourne said.
“Yes, we could. But I get the feeling higher courts would
not call for a new trial. There’s something tacitly going on,
something tacitly accepted.”
“Like a soul mate thing,” Jessie said.
“I’m sorry to do this, but I must ask all of you to leave,”
Salinski said abruptly. “I’ve got a lot to do…a lot to sort out
before tomorrow. Things look bad right now, and I have to see
if there’s anything in my power that can change that.” Then
he looked directly into Miss Annabelle’s eyes, then Mr.
Melbourne’s eyes. He knew their futures were in his hands.
Miss Annabelle looked scared. For the first time, she
wondered what it would mean to lose the trial.

*

At 8:00 am, the fifth and final day of trial, the defense team
gathered outside the courtroom. Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne searched Salinski’s eyes to read if he had some sort
of breakthrough. Salinski looked as though he had not slept.
He looked exhausted and distraught. Only his nervous energy
kept him going. Neither Miss Annabelle nor Mr. Melbourne
could read him. But they did not want to ask him, either. He
looked too preoccupied…as though he were wrestling with
thoughts. Miss Annabelle observed that this trial deeply affected
the young Salinski and changed his outlook as a lawyer. He
was not the same man now, not who he was a week earlier.
“I’m going to do something in there today no other lawyer
would do,” Salinski said with no warning. He jumped out of
his tormented thoughts to talk to his two clients and their dear
friends, Jessie and Angie.

272

“Being around you four people these
past two months has done something to me. This past week
made me realize I don’t like the path I’m on. And only by
realizing this could I do what I’m going to do today. It goes
beyond the facts I’ve presented. It’s the most powerful course
to take today and offers you the best chance. I’m…I’m going
to expose the judge.”
Miss Annabelle, Mr. Melbourne, Jessie and Angie felt their
bond for each other reach out and embrace the young lawyer
before them. They knew this could be career suicide, but he
was a rare lawyer who chose honesty as his course.
“No matter what happens, we’re proud of you,” Miss
Annabelle said, looking into his eyes. He looked scared, but
he squared his jaw and headed into the courtroom.
“All rise!” cried the court officer.
Here we go, Salinski said to himself.
Closing arguments started with the prosecution: “Ladies and
gentlemen of the jury, as so clearly demonstrated these past few
days — and so thoroughly confirmed by your honorable mayor,
your respected congressman, your…” so the prosecutor began.
For the next hour and fifteen minutes, he would repeat just about
everything said by his three political witnesses. The jurors were
all wide-eyed and alert.
But Salinski was not listening. He already knew what would
be said. Instead, he was still trying to put together the puzzle
in his head to rise to the next level. What…oh what switched
the judge into the leading member of the prosecution? Aside
from the obvious political advantages, what was the hidden force
that transmogrified him into a monster who could rob major
portions of innocent people’s lives? For, if Miss Annabelle and
Mr. Melbourne are found guilty, Salinski thought, they’d lose
years of their lives in prison. For what? No career advantages
could be that important!
As he searched for an answer, he realized how much precious
time he spent the night before, tormented, trying to decide
whether or not to expose the judge. A crushing realization the
night before paralyzed him for hours: this behavior was not
isolated to this judge.

273

He realized with great pain that this
subjective, political-agenda court was malignant and happening
everywhere. If he rebelled, he knew this judge and others would
punish him, losing future cases for him, harming innocent future
clients. He knew his career and future clients would suffer.
Moreover, if he did not expose the judge, he would sail smoothly
along in a promising career. He was bright and hard working.
He knew he could be at the top someday.
But what shamed him today was that he spent two additional
hours the night before, tempting himself to do what he knew was
not the honest path. As he sat there not listening to the
prosecutor, still struggling to grasp the bigger picture, he could
not help but wonder if those two unnecessary additional hours
wasted the night before could cost him the case for two innocent
people, for he needed every moment to figure out his finalé that
would expose the judge so the jurors could see the injustice, too.
The prosecutor was coming to a close: “May God be our
witness: you owe it to your mayor, to your congressman, to your
lieutenant governor, to your schools, to your children, to your
country to send these dangerous killers to prison!” the prosecutor
yelled in righteous ecstasy.
What, oh what, Salinski struggled to know, drove the judge
to tacitly take a side? Salinski still did not have a definitive
answer when he heard the judge calling out his name.
“Mr. Salinski. Mr. Salinski, the court is ready for your
closing arguments.”
“Thank…thank you, your honor,” Salinski stammered as he
stood up. He was so close to putting it all together…so close
to why judges perpetuate this dark cloud over their courtrooms
that obscures the clarifying light of justice. As he stood, facing
the jury, all Salinski could think of at that moment was: Damn!
Those two additional hours last night!
“Mr. Salinski!” snapped the judge.
Damn! If only I hadn’t wasted those two hours last night
— all because of my goddamned ego!
“Mr. Salinski, I’ve had just about enough of you and your
bumbling—” the judge said, but Salinski cut in.
“Ego! That’s it — ego!” Salinski shouted involuntarily. He
might as well have shouted “eureka!” the way the words exploded
from his mouth.

274

Disgusted with the path he almost chose —
ego over honesty — and disgusted with the precious time he
wasted the night before, which could have cost an irreplaceable
portion of his clients’ lives, he broke through. He realized that
unearned ego was the driving force behind the path many lawyers
took, and unearned ego was behind the judge taking a similar
path that offered him unearned, easy career advantages upon
tacitly entering the politicians’ club for dishonest soul mates.
Realizing he had blurted out his thoughts, Salinski continued
talking spontaneously as the puzzle snapped together in his head.
He focussed on the jurors:
“Let me ask you some rhetorical questions: you like the
prosecutor, don’t you? …You like his witnesses, don’t you?
You don’t really like me, do you? …You certainly don’t like
my witnesses, right? …And, most important of all, you really
like our judge, am I right?”
“Mr. Salinski,” the judge abruptly interrupted, scowling down
at the young lawyer. “You keep your questions focused on the
people on trial here. Do you understand me?”
Salinski knew he was in a tight spot and decided to play
along with the judge. “Yes, your honor, I’m sorry. No more
such questions.”
The judge relaxed, and Salinski continued, “I must make one
point for the sake of justice itself, and is that not what all
members of this court ultimately seek: justice?” Salinski looked
straight at the judge, who looked away. “When a juror takes
an emotional position that is based not on specific facts, but
general feelings based on vague stories, then that juror is no
longer wearing blindfolds — the very symbol of justice itself.”
Salinski reached behind his desk and pulled out a drawing of
the blindfolded Lady of Justice. He held it up to the jurors and
continued. “Instead, the blindfolds are off and the juror is trying
his friend…or enemy. In jury selection, we try to eliminate bias.
But now, you must ask yourself, ‘Am I now biased?’ Do you
like the prosecutor and his witnesses? Is there somehow a feeling
of friendship?”
The judge was becoming irritated and said, “Get to your
point, Mr. Salinski, or I’ll stop this nonsense!” Interestingly,
Salinski observed, the majority of objections throughout this trail
did not come from the prosecutor, but from the judge.

275

“Yes, your honor,” Salinski said obediently, “I’ll get to my
point.” He put down the drawing, turned back to the jurors, and
said, “When you go into deliberations, I ask you to put aside
all those feelings that have been, with great calculation, steadily
pumped into you the past five days; you’re all like big floats
filled with these emotions of like and dislike. Your feet are not
on the ground, and you can be easily pushed this way and that.
But, if you get real honest with yourselves and come back down
to earth, you’ll realize that those feelings inside you are not based
on the facts of this case, but on the special connection you’ve
gained these past few days with some prominent personalities
in our society, which would have to feel good to just about
anybody’s ego. Those personalities are graciously respected by
the prosecutor, by the audience, by you, and by your leader…the
judge himself. Who can possibly go against all that?” Salinski
shrugged his shoulders and looked around as if in search of
anyone who could defy that question. If the audience was not
unanimously in agreement with him, his point sure was thoughtprovoking, for every eye was wide-open, every mind
contemplating and every ear hanging on his every word. Then
he turned back to the jury and spoke with contagious passion,
“But that feel-good connection is not the point here! Almost
everyone here has motivation to go along with those prominent
personalities for different reasons. You do, the judge does, even
I do. Those reasons all come back to our egos. But our egos
cannot come between us and justice. Our egos must not cause
innocent people to lose the most important years of their lives,
which is what will happen to my clients. Salt-of-the-earth people
who had no agendas to fill, and who were not clever enough to
create illusions, told you the facts. The cold, hard facts must
override warm, pleasant feelings — no matter who is creating
those feelings. When you go in that room to deliberate, you
remember the Lady of Justice. You put your blindfolds back
on and you forget about all this feel-good friendship between
you and the mayor, you and the congressman, you and the
lieutenant governor, you and the judge. Your job in that
deliberation room is to look at the facts. That is the only way
justice can be served.

276

You — not the mayor, not the
congressman, not the lieutenant governor, not the judge, not your ego, not their egos — you alone with the bare facts have full
responsibility to serve justice. Do not come back here to deliver
ego justice. Come back here to deliver objective justice.”
Salinski sat down and held up his 14 x17 drawing of the
historical symbol of justice. He knew, regardless of the outcome,
he had just soared to a new level of law and justice. He realized
he had soared to the next level by being brutally honest with
himself and the world around him. He felt powerful and proud.
Without knowing the words, he had jumped into using Neothink.
Miss Annabelle, Mr. Melbourne, Jessie and Angie looked at the
young Salinski sitting tall and strong, boldly holding up the Lady
of Justice, and they wanted to cheer. Their hearts welcomed this
newcomer to their little civilization growing on planet
Earth…consisting of them and the twelve students…the little
Neothink World of profound honesty forming on planet Earth.
The prosecution could not respond. The judge nervously
adjourned the court for lunch.

*

As the court resumed for the afternoon session, Miss
Annabelle was thinking about her students. She had asked them
in the last weekly summer class to please not attend the trial.
She said there was no reason to, since it would be full of falsities
flung at her and Mr. Melbourne. She told them she knew they
would be thinking of her and were with her in spirit. Now, as
she sat at the defense table as the prosecuting attorney and
Salinski and the judge reviewed the jury instructions, she had
mixed feelings. She would have loved for her students to have
witnessed Salinski’s closing argument…and to have welcomed
him into their world of honesty.
“Bring in the jurors,” the judge was saying.
The judge delivered the agreed-upon jury instructions, which
took about fifteen or twenty minutes. Miss Annabelle studied
the jurors, several of them looked directly back at her with
pleasant expressions. Three women jurors even smiled at her.
Salinski did it, she thought, he turned this whole thing around!
Unfortunately, the judge felt the sea change, too.

277

In a completely unexpected and unethical move, which surprised even the prosecuting attorneys, the judge did not stop talking after
delivering the jury instructions. He continued talking for another
five minutes in a speech he obviously prepared during the lunch
break to counter the unprecedented closing argument and stunning
turnaround by Salinski.
The judge’s unethical ego-instructions seemed, to the
unsuspecting jurors, to be simply more jury instructions. Instead,
his extended monologue was his own, personal agenda to instruct
the jurors to deliver a guilty verdict, regardless of the facts.
For nearly five minutes, he assured the jurors that the trial
was done the way trials have been done “many thousands of
times for hundreds of years”. He assured the jurors they should
not be persuaded from their original conclusions that they had
reached on their own.
“Trust the feelings from your heart,” he concluded in his
unethical ego-instructions. “You’re good people with good hearts.
Of course you’ll feel compassion, even love, toward a good man
who may have needlessly died! And you’ll naturally feel respect
for his friends. You’ll feel many things. From my thirty-two
years as a judge, I urge you to seriously weigh those feelings.
They’re often telling you the right thing to do. The blindfolded
Lady of Justice does not see, but she feels. So do you. Go
place your verdict from your hearts.”
Miss Annabelle looked at the jurors again. Not a single juror
would look back at her. Their leader had spoken, and he told
them to vote guilty. He controlled their bicameral minds.
They were sent into deliberations. The judge told all parties
to stay nearby. It was 3:10 p.m.
Sitting in the courthouse cafeteria, at 4:25 p.m., the court
runner came and told Salinski and his clients that the jury had
reached a decision. Back in the courtroom, Miss Annabelle and
Mr. Melbourne held hands as the jury entered. Not one juror
looked at them.
“Have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, your honor,” the jurors’ foreman said, handing the
decision to the court officer, who took it over to the judge.
“What is your verdict?” the judge asked, after looking at the
written decision.
“Guilty on the felony count of voluntary manslaughter.”

278

Miss Annabelle gasped; Mr. Melbourne hugged her. One of
the women jurors who had earlier smiled at Miss Annabelle
started sobbing. Suddenly, the powerful voice of a child filled
the courtroom.
“The judge is a fraud! The judge is a fraud! The judge is
a fraud!”
The loud voice of a child said it over and over. Everyone
in the courtroom looked to where that powerful voice was coming
from. In the back, there stood Teddy Winters, red with passion
and ready to battle. It was quite a moving moment to see such
a young child so passionate, so fearless, so deep-thinking.
“Stop that yelling, young man!” the judge bellowed through
his microphone. His loud voice invoked fear in everyone in that
room…except Teddy.
“The judge is a fraud. I do not recognize your authority,
sir! You’re a fraud. The judge is a political animal. The judge
is a fraud!”
The people in the court suddenly felt moved by this boy who
so clearly saw through the judge’s agenda. Two other women
jurors who had earlier smiled at Miss Annabelle, started crying,
too. Teddy was piercing the illusion and awakening people to
the idea that they were hoaxed by a judge who cared only about
his own political career and ego. The judge instinctively reacted.
“Settle down your son, there,” the angry judge warned
Teddy’s father who was standing next to the boy. “Stop him,
or I’ll have the court officer escort you both out of here!”
Teddy’s dad looked at his son, who momentarily stopped, not
sure what his father would say to him. Then his father looked
back at the judge and said, “I won’t stop him from speaking the
truth, your honor.”
“Officer!” the judge roared, “get them out of here!”
What a sight it was: a man with a uniform and gun holding
a nine-year-old boy, whose voice was years away from changing,
and his gentle father by their arms, forcing them out of the room
of fraudulent justice. Anger and sadness swelled at the sight.
As the jurors left the courtroom, an elderly man was the first
juror since the verdict to look at Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne, who were still hugging each other. The old man
looked very sad, and his mouth shaped the words, “I’m sorry.”

279

The jurors are like my students’ parents, Miss Annabelle sadly
realized as she watched them shuffle forward, in line, heads bent
down, forever subservient to their external authorities. They’re
good people; they know I’m innocent, but in the end they cannot
go against the authority…trapped in the bicameral mentality.

*

The trial went by in a blur for Miss Annabelle; how very
much a life can change forever in one week! She and her love
were going to prison.
Three weeks later they gathered again before the judge to be
sentenced. The judge seemed different on this day than he did
during the trial. Salinski asked the judge to pass the minimum
sentence allowed by law. The prosecuting attorney asked the
judge to pass the maximum sentence, saying the judge must be
tough and make an example of people who use brutal violence
against dedicated public servants. But the judge seemed impatient
with the prosecuting attorney. He asked Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne if they had any statements to make. They did not.
So, the judge proceeded with his sentence. To Salinski’s
surprise, the judge passed the minimum sentence allowed by law.

*

Miss Annabelle stared at a picture on her fireplace mantle.
It was taken at the picnic, the last class outing. She studied
the expressions of each of her students and her fiancé. They’re
so beautiful, she thought.
I can’t believe it, John and I must report to prison in five
weeks. She rubbed her thumb lovingly across John’s face on
the photo. We won’t see each other for three years. She rubbed
her thumb slowly across the face of each student. I won’t see
you, my precious darlings, for three years. What will that mean?
I can’t imagine it…not yet.
As the days passed one by one, she was never so aware of
how wonderful freedom was. She never had any idea how
exhilarating it was to go where she wanted to go, when she
wanted to go there.

280

Not until her freedom would soon be taken
away did she realize how wonderful it was. …Ironically, that
made her realize how wonderful Sally and her mother’s time
together must be.
What is a human life, my life, made of? Miss Annabelle
pondered that question as her final five weeks of freedom passed.
My life is made from my experiences, she finally concluded; those
experiences that turn into memories are the substance of my
life…permanent chunks of my life, even as memories. Prison will
take away my freedom to have experiences. Three years without
experiences is the same as irreplaceably killing three years of
my life. The judge murdered three years of my life and John’s
life!

*

When she gathered her students for the last time before
leaving for at least three years, Miss Annabelle knew she had
to hold her feelings back, or she would lose control and break
down. The next time I see them, she thought, they’ll be at least
twelve years old. Three years is a lot of time at their age…I’ll
miss so much of their development. The judge committed a sick
crime on us! …The tragedy of being put away for three or more
years was beginning to sink in.
The children were terribly in need of understanding how the
jury could do this to their innocent teacher. Miss Annabelle
explained that not until the mentality out there changes from the
ancient mentality to the God-Man mentality could the jurors have
thought for themselves, as self-leaders, free of external leaders.
Then, Miss Annabelle gave her last speech to her students.
They listened sadly to her words on how to remain in their
honest God-Man world without her. As she looked at their sad
faces, she remembered that same gloom when Ms. Minner put
the substitute teacher in her class early in the school year. My
God, Miss Annabelle thought, how I wish I could turn this
situation around as I did last time they tried to separate us!
But this time, she was helpless. She could not light up those
twelve beautiful faces.

281

The painful hour arrived. It was time to say their final goodbyes. The doorbell rang; it was Cathy’s mother. In a desperate
reflex, Cathy looked at Miss Annabelle; the little girl’s forehead
crinkled into a knot.
“Oh…good-bye, my beautiful girl,” Miss Annabelle said. Her
voice was shaking. She reached out to hug Cathy; they
embraced; the little girl began to cry. Miss Annabelle closed
her eyes and thought, I’m so glad I was able to free this little
girl from her prison…so glad. “I’m so proud of you,” Miss
Annabelle whispered into Cathy’s ear. Cathy hugged her teacher
tighter. It was hard for Cathy to let go; her beautiful teacher
had saved her future and meant so much to her! Even Cathy’s
mother was overcome by the love and value flowing between
her daughter and Miss Annabelle. The child of the past in Mrs.
Solomon was touched, and she was moved to tears. “Good-bye,
my darling,” Miss Annabelle whispered, wiping the tears from
Cathy’s cheeks with her thumbs. Miss Annabelle smiled
peacefully. But inside, her heart was being torn apart as she
watched the little beauty walk out the door.
As Cathy walked toward the street, Mr. Winters passed her
on the way to the house. Miss Annabelle turned to Teddy. “Oh,
my Teddy,” she said. “You keep expanding, you brilliant
entrepreneur,” she said. He nodded, but he could not smile.
They hugged. “Thank you for standing up to that evil judge
for me,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re very brave.”
“Remember, you always told us that when you go to the
essence of things, you don’t have to be afraid of anyone or
anything,” Teddy said. Miss Annabelle leaned back to look at
him, and she smiled. His eyes were full of tears and his lips
were twitching. “Yes, I remember, Teddy.” she said softly.
Teddy nodded, but he was sadly frowning. Such pain, Miss
Annabelle thought, needlessly inflicted on these innocent children
by evil people.
Teddy knew Miss Annabelle had also saved his dad from
sinking into a life of miserable stagnation. Teddy could not
imagine his life now without Miss Annabelle. Suddenly, the
impact was too great and Teddy sniffled, then started crying.
There was nothing Miss Annabelle could do but give him one
last loving hug.

282

“Thank you,” Teddy’s father said in a very sad, deep
workingman’s voice. Then he put his arm around his son’s
shoulder. Miss Annabelle watched them walk away, Teddy’s
head hanging forward, his spirit shattered.
“I’m so sorry this has happened.” The gentle voice was filled
with compassion. Miss Annabelle’s eyes were drawn to that
caring voice of Sally’s mother standing next to her. When Miss
Annabelle saw her, love and understanding were radiating from
her eyes. Miss Annabelle could not stop herself from frowning.
She looked down, next to Sally’s mother, at Sally. Miss
Annabelle saw fear in Sally’s eyes. All along, Miss Annabelle,
Sally, and her mother tacitly believed Miss Annabelle would be
there to help Sally when her mom died. But now, the three of
them feared Sally would go through the loss of her mom without
Miss Annabelle.
Looking at Sally’s pained expression brought back a
memory…to the beginning of the school year…when Sally was
devastated with fear about her mom’s fatal illness. Miss
Annabelle knelt down and looked into Sally’s eyes. So much
fragility exists in my little Sally’s life, Miss Annabelle
thought…so much love to be so easily, so swiftly lost.
“Sweetie,” Miss Annabelle said while putting her hands on
Sally’s little shoulders, “you must be strong.” Sally nodded, but
her big brown eyes looked more scared than ever. Miss
Annabelle knew while looking into Sally’s frightened eyes that
the little girl could emotionally get through her mother’s
imminent death because of having Miss Annabelle here to turn
to. Now, that would no longer be the case, which caused great
fear in the little girl. “Sally, listen to me. The fear can rob
you of the love and joy you and your mom have left. Don’t
let that happen, darling. Okay? Live each precious day without
dreading the future. When the time comes…it comes. Live and
love in the present, my precious. Do not live in fear of the
future. Live and love in the present.”
An unmistakable understanding came over Sally’s expression
and filled her eyes. Miss Annabelle pulled her against her. “I
love you,” Miss Annabelle said.
Sally sobbed into Miss Annabelle’s shoulder. “I just can’t
believe you’re going to prison,” she cried.

283

Miss Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from
releasing the enormous pain of parting with Sally. “Oh Sally,
don’t you for a minute worry about me and bring yourself down
over this. This is your time to enjoy life with your mother.
Darling, please don’t worry about me. And to help put you at
ease, I’m going to write you at least once a week.”
Sally pulled her head back. “You mean, we can send each
other letters?” Miss Annabelle smiled and nodded. Sally hugged
her tightly and said, “I’m going to write you all the time, Miss
Annabelle!”
Sally’s mother, her eyes filled with tears, smiled and shook
her head at the beautiful way Miss Annabelle always cleared the
devastating obstacles from Sally’s path in life and filled that path
with exhilaration, love, and happiness.
As the parents arrived for their children, one by one each
child and their beloved teacher would say a special good-bye.
Each child hugged her with all of his or her might. She
whispered something loving and memorable into each child’s ear.
When she and each of her little loved ones released their
embraces, the little ones would leave in despair, devastated and
sobbing, even the boys. She trembled in pain as she watched
Danny, Alan, Nattie, Bobby, Jeremiah, Debbie, Reggie, and then
Ian walk out of her life. “I’ll miss you,” she’d helplessly whisper
as they left in tears.
Finally, one child remained. He had no parents coming for
him; he had ridden his bike. Rico, the little macho man, looked
at Miss Annabelle. The room was painfully quiet. “I’ve read
them, you know,” he said. “All three…I loved them so much;
I don’t know which one was my favorite. Maybe…Martin Eden.
I also bought and read another one of his books called The Sea
Wolf.”
For the first time, Miss Annabelle discovered Rico was a
prolific reader — four major novels since Christmas. That
discovery put a glow on her face again, as only her students
could do. “You, my darling, are Martin Eden. But you won’t
get pulled under by contradictions in the end as he did…because
you see through the illusions to what is.” Her unexpected
comment filled Rico with pride, which put a glow on his face.
She stopped and enjoyed the moment, looking at this boy
from a family of hard criminals, choosing a different path in life.

284

She saw before her a real tough guy, tough enough to stand up
against his father and his way of life…tough enough to blaze
his own path as a child. She saw man-size courage in the boy
before her. “God, I’ll miss you,” she said under her breath.
The glow on Rico’s face changed to a look of pain…greater
and greater pain. Time closed in on him. He couldn’t stop the
separation from happening. His dreaded fear of this unstoppable
moment sent a flash of panic through his eyes. The little tough
guy could take no more. “Bye,” he said, bursting into tears.
He could say nothing more.
“Bye,” Miss Annabelle whispered, bursting into tears, unable
to say more. Rico ran over and hugged her.
During the moment of their hug, that precious moment when
he buried his face into her shoulder and she closed her eyes,
she could feel him crying. She could feel the little boy — the
vulnerable sweet child — in her arms. The next moment, not
wanting her to see him crying, not looking at her, he turned away
and ran out of her house, down the stairs, and he rode away.
She stood in her doorway, watching him, wishing beyond wish
for a peaceful life in his violent home.
Rico sped down the street; he kept looking back for one last
glance.
“God, I’ll miss you,” Miss Annabelle cried. She felt her
strength leaving her body as quickly as Rico rode away, as
though a string to her soul were snagged on Rico’s bike, and
her soul was being unraveled and pulled out of her as Rico sped
away. The moment she could not see Rico, a severe pain tore
through her body. The last connections of her soul burst from
their sockets and ripped clear from her heart.
She had nothing left inside her — no strength — to mask
the pain. She closed the door and walked into her house. She
got no further than the middle of her living room. The pain
rushing up from within, rushing up from her lungs and through
her mouth, released a primal wail of a mother separated from
her young. She collapsed onto the floor and cried so hard her
stomach cramped up. Mr. Melbourne picked her up and
carried her to bed, where her cramp forced her to curl up like
a baby, and she cried herself to sleep.

285

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Two
————————

They made their last full day together something memorable.
That memory would help keep them motivated throughout their
time away from each other.
Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne spent the previous five
weeks, since being sentenced, busily putting their affairs in order
for a three to five-year absence. Now, the day before they were
to report to prison, they were prepared to go. So, they spent
the last day absorbing each other’s love.
Around ten o’clock in the morning, they spontaneously
thought about getting married that last day together. But, they
realized they would be busily running around all day to get their
marriage license, their blood test, and to find a justice of the
peace. Instead, on this day, they wanted to celebrate their love
for each other and decided to get married after they were free
again. This day was the first time they discussed marriage. It
left a wonderful feeling inside them both. Because of this
inescapable separation, their love went to a new level that last
day together, where their love, she believed, would always stay.
Their last night together, they slept in each others’ arms.

286

The next morning seemed unreal. To be apart for so long
would have been nearly impossible. But the previous day
together, with their decision to marry upon getting back their
freedom, would carry their spirits until they were together again.
Jessie drove Mr. Melbourne; Angie drove Miss Annabelle.
Saying good-bye was hard, but it was possible because, ironically,
they were still celebrating the new romantic heights they had
reached. They both inherently knew their higher love would get
them through the next few years.
It was a beautiful September morning; the sun was shining,
the birds were singing. It almost felt as though the world was
celebrating their discovery of a higher love.
With smiles on their faces, Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne let go of each other and said good-bye.

*

A week inside prison and Mr. Melbourne was tired. He had
no idea how hard prisoners worked. He dropped another tray
of dishes onto the dishwasher rack and leaned back against the
counter for a breather. He was on cleanup duty.
The dishwasher, a tall black man everyone called Ace, noticed
Mr. Melbourne was hurting and said in a mock Australian accent,
“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll adjust, and the work’ll go by quickly.”
Mr. Melbourne laughed at Ace’s attempt at an Australian
accent that sounded more Irish than Australian. Ace reminded
him of Jessie.
“Thanks. I hope I adjust ’cause I’m worthless after I get
done my shift.”
“Ah, before you know it, you’ll be in the gym pumping iron
after them tables are cleared and cleaned,” Ace promised. He
wisely gave up his attempt at an Australian accent.
“I worry about my fiancé. Dishes weigh the same in
women’s prisons as they do here.” Mr. Melbourne said, shaking
his head. Worrying about Miss Annabelle was making his
condition worse.
“She’ll get used to it too,” Ace said reassuringly. “You’re
young. She’s young. In a couple of weeks, she’ll be OK. She’ll
even get that toned up body every woman dreams of!”

287

“You’re sure?” Mr. Melbourne asked.
“Yeah, I know women who’ve been in prison,” Ace answered,
seriously and honestly. “They can physically handle it.”
It was what Mr. Melbourne needed to hear. All of a sudden,
his fatigue seemed to be gone. For the rest of his shift, Mr.
Melbourne, for the first time since being there, moved with ease
through his job and even wondered, for a moment, if he felt
good. He stopped and thought, for an instant, do I feel a little
bit happy?
That evening before lights out, Mr. Melbourne began working
on his book again. Suddenly, without a doubt this time, he felt
a surge of happiness. He wrote until lights out.
Lying on his back, his body was in a small room with five
other men. But as he lay on his top bunk, his mind was free
and racing through a universe of thoughts. His experience here,
he realized for the first time, was giving him profound insights
about man, society, and our mentality. He was also discovering
how free he still was.

*

Mr. Melbourne’s discovery was a godsend: the experience of
being in prison as a political prisoner brought unique angles to
everything he had written in his book. In bizarre irony, he was
discovering that a man is not wholly free in the anticivilization
until he goes into the abyss of captivity. When his freedom is
taken away, he discovers the power and freedom of his mind.
Now, Mr. Melbourne spent every spare moment working on his
book. He now knew his life would still move forward. Like a
sick man who just got better, he felt really good.
A little over an hour away in the state prison for women,
Miss Annabelle had been discovering the same phenomenon. Her
nonwork time now all went to developing a weekly lecture that
she taped and mailed to her twelve little God-Men each
Wednesday. They continued their weekly classes together at
Sally’s house or Teddy’s house. They would listen to Miss
Annabelle’s lecture on tape and then discuss it among themselves.
Miss Annabelle, like her lover, had discovered life in prison.
Her lectures now had a dimension and added value she could
not reach without this experience.

288

She felt happy again, and her
love started flowing from her heart again, which started a stream
of perhaps some of the most beautiful love letters ever written.
Her nonwork time now consisted of a perfect balance of
developing logical left-brain lectures and emotional right-brain
love letters.
The stream of love letters flowing back and forth between
the imprisoned lovers fueled them and motivated their creations.
Their lives, suppressed in routine physical labor and loneliness,
were also full of adventure and love. Their minds soared toward
new creations…and their hearts beat with love for each other.
And Ace was right: the labor was exhausting, but their bodies
got used to it.
Miss Annabelle also received a tape each week from her
students’ discussion session. After they listened to her lecture,
they turned on the cassette to record their discussion. The prison
gave her permission to listen to those tapes. Her students wrote
her personal letters, too. Miss Annabelle was busy from the
moment she woke up till the moment she fell asleep. Even after
lights out, she would often lie awake in bed, sometimes up to
an hour or longer, thinking about the next part to the puzzle-picture she was building for her students…or thinking about her
love.

*

At Duncan Elementary School, the third week of the new
school year had begun. The whole school attended a special
announcement in the school auditorium that Monday afternoon
at 2:00 p.m.
No one knew what the announcement would be about. The
teachers were surprised when Ms. Minner started to talk about
Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne being in prison for the
manslaughter of Mr. Hammerschmidt.
Then, what particularly surprised the faculty, was the
principal’s religious references.
“Let there be no mistake: anyone who commits such a crime
will have blood on their hands when they meet God and will
be sent to the fire below for eternity.”

289

Her voice, filled with bitterness, rang through the auditorium in her thick southern accent, sounding like a leap-of-faith healer.
Ms. Minner was born in Atlanta, Georgia into a devoutly
religious family, notched for generations in the Bible Belt. Ms.
Minner was physically unattractive all her life with beady black
eyes, thick glasses, thin greasy hair, and a splotchy complexion.
She never married. She never even went on a date. She never
kissed a man romantically. She resented men and hated pretty
women. She disliked children, especially young children. She
physically tensed up when children laughed and played around
her. She avoided places visited by children such as
McDonald’s and carnivals. At home, she used to refer to the
neighborhood children as little brats. Over time, that changed
to little rats.
When she got together with her two friends — two older
ladies who also never married — their talk was negative, always.
But they seemed to enjoy their nonstop, negative talk. Their
topic of discussion lately often turned to Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne. The three of them would whip themselves into a
frenzy, convinced that the attractive couple was the work of the
devil himself.
Hammerschmidt had used Miss Annabelle to create an illusion
that would boost his political career. Ms. Minner, on the other
hand, was not interested in politics. She believed she was the
heroine who saved the school, the children, and the town from
the devil’s work. With her two friends cheering her on, Ms.
Minner became obsessed with the mission to get Miss Annabelle
out of her twelve students’ lives forever.
Moreover, in a euphoric moment, the three ladies agreed that
Ms. Minner would be doing God’s work by separating the two
lovers, for the strength of the devil in Cheektowaga would be
broken. Thus, the topic of discussion with the only two friends
Ms. Minner had in this world became her mission from God:
separate Miss Annabelle from the two things she deeply loved
— her students and her man.
Two days later, Ms. Minner searched through Miss
Annabelle’s and Mr. Melbourne’s files at school, and the
principal’s beady eyes widened at the discovery that Mr.
Melbourne was not a citizen of the United States.

290

The only contact Miss Annabelle had with the outside world,
besides her cherished letters from John, was her weekly audiocassette tape and the personal letters from her students. She
saved every letter and tape and noticed how rapidly her twelve
little God-Men were advancing. They all used Neothink now,
building puzzle-pictures piece by piece. Teddy was on his way
to becoming a millionaire before he turned ten years old. He
and Cathy went on their first “date” together. Ian had an article
published in the Buffalo News, and his ideas on the cosmos were
attracting the attention of some prominent physicists. Sally’s
mom seemed surprisingly strong and the relationship had taken
an interesting turn: Sally and her mom were spending hours
together after school learning about the disease. Sally was
beginning to form some very interesting insights about controlling
the disease.
Miss Annabelle knew, during those final weeks in third grade
when her students started integrating knowledge and building
Neothink puzzles, they would become self-perpetuating creators
who would someday create great values for the world. But the
speed at which this was happening amazed her.
A few days before Christmas, Miss Annabelle listened to her
students’ latest tape. A discussion broke out among Teddy,
Danny, and Sally that astounded Miss Annabelle. She got
permission to send the tape to Mr. Melbourne. It contained a
prophetic picture of the future of microprocessors, the economy,
and medicine. As she handed the tape over to the prison guard
to send to Mr. Melbourne, Miss Annabelle could not stop smiling.
For, she could see in her thoughts her fiancé’s face, his wideeyed expressions of astonishment as he listened to her students’
breakthrough thinking.
God, I wish I could be there to see John’s face, she thought.
She lived each day longing to be together with her students and
her John again.

291

Christmas Day arrived. Miss Annabelle awakened before the
6:00 a.m. bugle sounded. On holidays, she liked to think back
to the same day the year before, which she did as she lay in
her bunk. She remembered that on Christmas Day last year she
had broken through to grasping the immense value of human life
and tragedy of human death. She also remembered spreading
that God-Man perspective to her students, who were still young
enough to genuinely never want to die. That immortal
perspective amplified the value of their own lives so greatly that,
she believed, their young minds reached for more — reached for
Neothink.
At breakfast, Miss Annabelle sat at the table, unaware that
she had not eaten a thing. She was feeling down. She had been
in this place for just four months, and she had at least two and
a half more years to go. Two and a half more years! That’s
seven times longer than I’ve been in here, she thought. I miss
John; I miss my students. I just miss them too much.
“Merry Christmas, Anna,” a cheerful voice said. Miss
Annabelle looked up to see one of her roommates, Megan, sitting
down next to her. “You haven’t touched your food, sweetie.
Do you feel okay?”
“Oh…yes. I’m…I’m just…” Miss Annabelle paused, not
sure what to say.
“Holidays in here are hard.” Megan’s voice had so much
compassion that Miss Annabelle’s eyes involuntarily filled with
tears. Megan saw the reaction and said, “Oh…honey, come
here.” Megan put her fork down, reached around, and hugged
Miss Annabelle.
Megan had become a genuine friend. She was a sincere
person, forty years old, and a pillar of positivity. Miss Annabelle
really enjoyed Megan’s sense of life.
“It’s going to be so long before I see John again and my
students,” Miss Annabelle said, her voice shaking. Megan
hugged her tighter.
“In here, Anna, time goes by so slowly. But I want you to
consider something, dear. Out there, time goes by so quickly.
In here, I have a lot of time to think about what I want out of
life. I already know that when I get out, the rest of my life
will go by in a blink. But, because of my time in here, I’ll
know what I want. I’ll go hard after what I want.

292

I’ll be focused and not on an aimless journey that ends before it begins.”
Miss Annabelle sat up to look into Megan’s eyes. Her friend
had expressed a wisdom that surpassed Miss Annabelle. She
looked at her vivacious friend who grew up in Rochester, New
York in a blue-collar neighborhood. Megan looked cute with
her short blonde hair and long spit curls that framed her face.
As almost always, she wore a beautiful smile.
“You’ve turned this negative — your five precious years in
here — into a positive. I admire that, Megan.”
Megan smiled, and so did Miss Annabelle.
“You’re always so positive…so happy!” Miss Annabelle said
through a tearful chuckle, obviously feeling better.
“What…how…”
“There’s really nothing special about it,” Megan said. She
was not being flippant. In fact, she became very serious and
said, “Would you like me to tell you how I got this way?” Miss
Annabelle nodded and gave her undivided attention to the story
Megan was about to tell.
“Okay…you’re the only one I’ve told this to: When I was
15, I fell in love. His name was Joseph, and he was 20 years
old. He landed a good job as an apprentice train mechanic for
the railroad, and three months later I was pregnant. At 16, I
had a beautiful baby boy…little Joey. Joseph and I got married.
At 18, I gave birth to Meg and Peg, our twin daughters. But
we weren’t like so many teenage marriages…we were really
happy, and we stayed happy. He was a hard-working man and
worked his way up to line manager. I was so proud of him!
Even though we struggled at first, we were happy. He’d rush
home from work to play with the children. Throughout the week,
he’d announce to the kids that his day off was family day, and
we’d spend the entire day together, going on picnics, riding
bicycles, going to a movie, taking a drive to the shore. When
he became line manager, he had weekends off, and we’d spend
them together as a family. Now and then, Joe would facetiously
fret about the day our kids moved out, but I think he really kinda
meant it.”
Megan hesitated and looked into Miss Annabelle’s gentle
eyes, then Megan smiled, but it was a sad smile. “He never
did see that day when Joey moved out. My sweetheart died one
icy winter evening on his way home from work.

293

A van going
in the other direction lost control and spun directly into his car.”
Megan dropped her gaze to the floor. Miss Annabelle had never
seen Megan sad, defeated. She barely could say more, but she
continued, “I…I often try to imagine what Joe was thinking about
during that last drive home. I know he was excited to see us.
He’d always come in through the garage door and yell ‘Daddy’s
home!’ The kids would drop whatever they were doing and run
to him. He did that for seventeen beautiful years.”
Miss Annabelle knew what it was like to lose a loved one
suddenly, violently. Eleven years before, when she was in her
mid-twenties, she lost her only sibling, her brother, to a freak
boating accident.
As Miss Annabelle looked at her friend, she realized that
when you lose a loved one to early death, especially to a violent
ending during that loved one’s prime, your inner world of
emotions is mercilessly and permanently defeated. You can grow
new emotions, but those emotions in you from the past that
revolved around your lost loved one are forever defeated. That
look of defeat covered Megan’s face.
“I’m so sorry,” Miss Annabelle said, her own eyes filling with
tears of sorrow for her friend.
Megan nodded and tried to smile. She struggled to say,
“Joey, Meg and Peg…oh, they were devastated; they got so
skinny after their daddy died. They wouldn’t eat. Our world
orbited around Joe, and then he was gone …instantly…forever.
Through all our pain and depression, what stood out most in my
mind was how fast those seventeen years we had together had
passed. These days, seventeen years is considered a marathon
marriage. But after the accident, those seventeen years seemed
like six months. They had gone by in a flash…they really had.
“The kids and I barely managed. Two years later, Joey
moved out. The year after that, Meg and Peg moved into the
dormitory of the local college. For the first time in my life, I
was alone. It was really hard. I kept living in the past, and I
couldn’t get out of my head how fast those seventeen beautiful
years went by. It felt like my life was over now…over so fast.
“Four years after Joe died, a year after my girls moved out,
I couldn’t stand the loneliness. I started dating for the first time.

294

Stanley had worked with Joe; he was a very nice and caring
person. He was educated, a college graduate, and had always
been part of railroad management. I didn’t love Stan; I didn’t
think I could love again, but I did like him…and he was good
to me. So, he moved in. It wasn’t until after Stan moved in
with me that I discovered he had a cocaine habit. He convinced
me that it was only a stimulant for when he was working long
hours. He said it did less harm than smoking cigarettes or
drinking coffee. He said he’d always used cocaine. I really
didn’t know anything about it other than what he told me.
“One night, about a month after Stan moved in, six federal
agents stormed my home and found his cocaine. Since I knew
about it, I was charged with possession and was sentenced to
eleven years.
“Well, Anna, that was about as much as I could take. I
wanted to die and thought about killing myself, but I kept going
because I knew what the suicide option would do to my precious
children.
“Months passed in here; I didn’t smile, not once. Then, one
morning when I woke up, for one beautiful moment I felt like
I was with Joe and the kids again. It was the first time I felt
really good inside since Joe died. Lying in bed that morning
before the wake up call, I smiled for the first time in here.”
Megan had a hard time getting through her personal story,
but now she seemed to gain strength as she remembered that
morning:
“I realized I was letting go. I was telling myself it was okay
to let go of those beautiful years and that my life with Joe was
an everlasting part of me…a permanent place I could visit in
my heart whenever I wanted to, just as I was doing that morning.
By that afternoon I realized I had lived one life, which included
my fairy tale with Joe and my children. And now, I had one
more life to live again. All afternoon, I kept thinking how fast
my first life went by in a blink. If I kept frowning, my second
life would be over in a blink, and all I would have done was
feel miserable. I could either frown…or smile. Either way, my
life would go by in a flash, but it could be a flash full of frowns
or a flash full of smiles. I chose to smile.
“At first, it took discipline to pursue a positive life.

295

After a while, it came naturally. Now, I know that my second life
will be over fast, like my first life, so I’m going to make every
moment as positive and happy as I can.”
Suddenly Megan put both her hands on Miss Annabelle’s
shoulders and said, “Anna, people don’t know, until it’s all
ending, how fast our lives pass by. I know because I’ve had
one life that already ended. Once you know it, then to be less
than positive and energetic is such a waste of your one brief
moment alive.”
Miss Annabelle shook her head and managed to say, “I so
admire you, Megan.” …She doesn’t belong here, Miss Annabelle
could not stop saying in her thoughts. Why is this good woman
in prison? She’s not a criminal. Yet, she’s being stripped of
anywhere from eight to eleven years of her prime…aging in here.
Miss Annabelle remembered what Rico had told the class:
there are many people in prison who are not criminals. They
committed no real crimes of force. Instead, they violated the
sound-good, vote-gathering laws created by politicians. Megan,
a beautiful person who would never hurt anyone, violated one
of those political-policy laws. Miss Annabelle agonized over this.
How many Megans are trapped in here? The innocence of
Megan’s face really moved Miss Annabelle as she heard a voice
in her head saying, over and over, “I’m so sorry you’re in here,
Megan!”
Megan smiled. She did not know Miss Annabelle was feeling
sorry for her. Megan said, “I’ll tell you, Anna, our lives go by
in a hurry. When you get out of here, don’t waste any time,
don’t hesitate to do whatever it is that’s going to bring you
happiness. And let yourself…no, make yourself feel it! Figure
out your path, and then run along it. I’ve already figured out
what I’m going to do. Now, I just can’t wait to get out of here!
Just four years to go if I get out early.”
Four more years murdered by politicians, Miss Annabelle
thought.

296

Megan’s attitude lifted Miss Annabelle. Why frown when I
can smile? Miss Annabelle never forgot those words, and she
realized she had a lot to smile about. She was deeply in love;
she thought a lot about the wedding that would happen when
she and Mr. Melbourne were free again. In fact, she started
planning the wedding, right from prison, ordering catalogues and
brochures. She wanted a wedding and reception so she and Mr.
Melbourne could celebrate the special memory with the other
people they loved: her students, Sally’s parents, Teddy’s parents,
Jessie and Angie, John’s family. With both her parents and her
brother gone, Miss Annabelle had no family. These people she
loved and wanted at her wedding had become her family. The
wedding had become a symbol of freedom for Miss Annabelle
and Mr. Melbourne. Thinking about it kept them both very
positive.
Miss Annabelle led a busy life in prison. She kept her
weekly class going from prison, which made her feel as if she
were out there in the free world. She and Megan had become
close friends. And every other Saturday on visiting day, Jessie
and Angie visited her for a couple of hours. Those visits were
like shots of adrenaline. Moreover, Jessie and Angie visited Mr.
Melbourne, too, once a month. Miss Annabelle would get so
excited hearing everything about him and vice versa. Angie and
Jessie really enjoyed it, too. Miss Annabelle was forever grateful
for the value and effort Angie and Jessie gave to her.
Her students had asked her on the first discussion tape if they
could come to visit her. Rico said that they could and told them
how. Miss Annabelle’s heart melted as she listened to their
euphoria when they thought they could come to see her. But
children were not allowed to visit unless they were related to
the inmate and accompanied by a parent or guardian. So, they
had to settle for the recorded weekly lecture and discussion
period, which was very rewarding nonetheless.
Every night now, she lay in bed after lights out and thought:
With all these wonderful people and values in my life…why
frown when I can smile?

297

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Three
————————

During the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day,
Mr. Melbourne was pleasantly surprised when he was notified
that an audio-cassette tape awaited him in the prison library. It
was the tape Miss Annabelle sent him, and it was the best
Christmas present he could have hoped for. Indeed, the tape of
his fiancé’s students meant new knowledge!
First thing, before he had to report for his daily duties, he
rushed to the prison library and eagerly popped the tape into the
cassette player.
He listened closely and gratefully, for the students’ sweeping
picture helped Mr. Melbourne snap a major puzzle piece into his
own growing Neothink puzzle for eventually marketing his own
book.
As the tape played, Mr. Melbourne was surprised at how
mature Teddy’s voice sounded and how articulate he was. Teddy,
Danny, and Sally now talked with the vocabulary of middle-aged
executives:
“I’ve been watching a fascinating phenomenon in the new
microprocessor industry,” Teddy said. “Cofounder of Intel,
Gordon Moore, best described this phenomenon nearly nine years
ago when he predicted the complexity of the integrated circuit
would double every eighteen months, which has held up.

298

“I know there’s more to the geometrical increase of the power
and speed of the microprocessor than the advancing technology
itself, something that Gordon Moore himself might not
understand. I know that the geometrical phenomenon is possible
because the microprocessor and brand-new microcomputer
industry isn’t regulated. The industry is too new and different
and is advancing too fast to have deep-rooted regulatory control
woven throughout it.
“Now, let me ask the question: in the integrated-circuit world,
what would the continuation of unregulated technology mean?
As long as the politicians and regulators don’t get a stranglehold
on the microprocessors, then I predict that before the turn of the
millennium, small inexpensive computers will exist with the
power and speed of the huge IBM mainframes. Using Moore’s
Law, the computing power will soar while costs plunge. Those
personal ‘mainframes’ will sit in ordinary people’s homes, helping
ordinary people run their personal lives and entrepreneurial
businesses. Let me say it again: Ordinary families will have
small inexpensive computers at home with the computing power
of large expensive IBM mainframes. Think of it: little personal
‘mainframes’ for everyone, what an exciting thought! In that
future world of computers, you would become computer-rich
because your computer buying power would multiply a thousand
times.”
After a long pause, Danny picked up the conversation:
“Now, let me ask a question: in the world beyond computers,
what would a continuation of unregulated technology mean?
Without the regulatory web restricting every other industry,
technology would advance geometrically in every field, just like
the microcomputers. Just as Teddy predicted for the
microprocessors, buying power would eventually multiply a
thousand times, everywhere in every technological industry.”
Suddenly, Sally spoke up, “You know, the medical industry
would soar without the external authorities holding it back. I
know now, you guys are right about that. I can see it in my
research.”
“The microprocessor computers are demonstrating the proof
to the world,” Danny said. He nodded at Sally.

299

“If politicians
and regulators — the external authorities — were pulled off of
every industry, particularly the technology industries, those
industries would advance geometrically. Values would soar;
buying power would, too.”
“Cancer would be cured,” Sally added, sadly.
Mr. Melbourne shut off the cassette player. Although there
was more, he was late for his duties and would have to hear
the rest later. As he rushed out of the prison library, his eyes
were still wide with astonishment over the students’ Neothink
picture, just as Miss Annabelle had imagined. Mr. Melbourne
walked quickly for the cafeteria, oblivious to the world around
him, wishing he could talk to his woman about her incredible
students.
His head was spinning with his imagination of that
nonpoliticized world, where everyone was rich. I have confidence
in those kids’ vision, he thought. The only valid future tellers
are the rare people who see through the matrix of illusions to
what is, for only they have the widely integrated insights, the
puzzle pieces, to most accurately snap together a puzzle-picture
of the future.

*

Over the next few months, Mr. Melbourne maximized his
values in prison, just as his fiancé had done. After he finished
his kitchen duties one evening, as he did often, he told her about
his progress in a letter. He hurried into his room, grabbed a
pad of paper and a pencil. He kicked off his shoes and climbed
onto his bunk. He leaned his back against the wall and pulled
his knees up, putting his feet onto the side of the bunk.

300

He rested the pad on his raised knees and started writing his letter:

My Dearest Anna,
I’ve discovered that, unlike in the free world, in here I can
talk to prisoners about the ideas in my book. They listen, and
in some cases they actually integrate an understanding of the
Civilization of God-Man. Several of the prisoners are part of
my work studies. They often see through to the essence and
grasp things that would be ungraspable out there in the free
world…in the anticivilization filled with political illusions and
dishonesties. I ask myself, why? Why can some of these
prisoners see reality when free citizens cannot? I’ve realized that
out there, society’s political leaders and the media actually
calibrate everything to support the political illusions and
dishonesties. In here, the prison leaders calibrate nothing, for
no illusions exist. In here, people wake up from the spell of
external authorities and simply think on their own. Amazingly,
in here, several of the prisoners grasp the next evolution of man
— God-Man and his Civilization of the Universe. I’m very
excited about pursuing what all this means and where it’s leading
me.
God, I miss you Anna.
Love Forever,
John

*

Two years into his sentence…

My Dearest Anna,
I’ve extracted lots of information from my extensive
‘laboratory’ experiments. I could have gotten this information
nowhere else. The results really strengthen my work! I’ve
learned that the driving force behind the illusions and dishonesties
of the anticivilization is laziness. The illusions and dishonesties,
for example, bring unearned power to the perpetrators…the ruling
class. And that anticivilization trait of seeking something for
nothing runs through most people in this suppressed
anticivilization. With that insight, I’ve developed a marketing
approach for my book that will embrace the most powerful force
of the anticivilization instead of fighting it. With most people’s
desires dominated by a get-something-for-nothing attraction, I’ll
market my work as the ultimate route to easy success and wellbeing. When you take in the whole picture, becoming the Godman is the easy route to success. I’ve now woven that theme
throughout my book. My literary and marketing approach is
extremely attractive in the anticivilization.

301

Yet, my new get-something-for-nothing angle is not hype; it
is for real once humanity evolves into the new God-Man
mentality and ends its dependency on political leaders. I see
the first clue: without lifting a finger, consumers’ buying power
for personal computers has been increasing geometrically for a
few years with no end in sight, just as Teddy predicted two years
ago. The personal computer industry is new and different; it is
the least regulated industry. Therefore, the personal computer
industry is the least hindered industry, and it is soaring. Once
we enter the age of the God-Man mentality, which will end the
reign of political leaders and their regulatory bureaucracies,
society will undergo geometrical increases of buying power in
nearly all industries, just as Danny predicted two years ago. The
people will, in essence, become rich without having to do a thing.
I call it: the coming millionaire phenomenon, for the people will
quickly enjoy the buying power of millionaires and, eventually,
billionaires.
Needless to say, the prisoners love this anti-authority, get-rich philosophy. Get rid of the ruling class and get rich. I
realize that the general population will be drawn to this
philosophy as well because, ironically, it appeals to the pervasive
mind-set of the anticivilization: get something for nothing.
Two years in prison, and I am discovering the value and
power of marketing. In here, I witness a microcosm of what I
can accomplish out there through marketing my life’s work.
Darling, I cannot wait to be with you again. Every night
and every morning I think about you; I see you in my head, and
I dream of holding you in my arms. I love you…
Forever,
John

302

A few months later…

My Dearest Anna,
I continue testing marketing ideas in my “lab”. I have proven
that the get-rich-quick approach is much more effective than an
intellectual approach. I keep detailed notes and have started
building my puzzle pieces to a Neothink marketing program that
I will pursue upon my release.
I know that I will have to market my book myself, for no
Establishment publisher could handle its anti-Establishment
message. I have my eye on some of the prisoners who were
never criminals. Rico was absolutely right: in here I have
discovered two different categories of prisoners — those criminals
here because of a crime of force versus those innocent people
here because of a political-policy ‘crime’. Those innocent
prisoners’ anti-authority mind-set, after being burned by the
Establishment, will generate motivated employees for my new
anti-authority business. I am thinking business, marketing,
personnel, and I am scouting for good employees.
I can’t stand, though, being separated from you. I count the
days until we’re together again. My mind is strong, but my heart
is weak.
Love You,
John

Mr. Melbourne was building a plan to advance the world
through business and his book. He would leave the academic
world behind when he got out. He formed his vision and knew
what he needed to do. His business would disseminate his book
— his map into Neothink — by the millions.
One evening after his hard labor was done, while studying
his notes and data on his marketing approaches, he saw the big
picture: a Neothink picture for a powerful brochure for his book.
A whole new world was opening up to him. He wrote to the
love of his life about it:

My Dearest Anna,
I subscribe to several trade magazines on publishing,
advertising, and direct-response marketing. I study the ads in
those publications. I also receive several advertisements through
the mail, for now I am on several mailing lists.

303

I learn from those advertisements. I also feel that either they
miss the most powerful common denominator of this
anticivilization — the desire to get something for nothing — or,
if they do appeal to that get-rich-quick desire in people, the
product is not valid.
I realize I have both the valid get-rich-quick advertising
concept and the only valid product that would deliver on such
a promise. As I work on my brochure, I know I’m sitting on a
powerful marketing concept that’ll get my book out to lots of
people. I’ll press the most urgent buttons in people and get many
books out there.
My book is nearly done; now the marketing has just begun.
I know this whole new world of marketing is the way to advance
the world. Therefore, these days I work fervently on my
brochure until lights out. I then slide my folder of notes into
my locker and get into bed. I usually slip into dreams of the
future, my eyes wide open, staring into the black. My mind’s
eye sees my future office filled with hard-working people,
marketing and shipping my book. If gotten out in large enough
numbers, my book will start advancing humanity toward the next,
superior mentality. Adults will become like your children…your
twelve little God-Men.
Like you, darling, I am feeling good about myself. When I
get out of here, I’ll be 40 years old. I’ll be entering my power
years. I’ll have completed my book of fifteen years. I’ll go
into business for myself and market this to the world.
Well, that is my dream of the future. My dreams of the
future always wind up seeing you…my lovely wife-to-be…with
me. That beautiful day is not so far away.
I Love You,
John

He put down his pencil and climbed into bed. A cool breeze
blew in through the one rectangular window in the small room
and brushed across his face. He smiled. He liked the wind,
for it came from out there — from beyond the fence. …He
longed to be free as the wind, again

304

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Four
————————

Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne qualified for the early
release program. They both would get out after three years and
one month. They would, of course, be on probation until the
full five-year term was served. And, although felons are not
allowed to associate by law until the full term of probation is
up, an exception had been made in their case because of their
romantic relationship. The big day was almost here.

*

Angie planned a surprise welcome-home party. She would
pick up Miss Annabelle at noon on Friday, release day. At the
exact same time, Jessie would pick up Mr. Melbourne. They
would drive to the small house Angie had been asked to rent
for Miss Annabelle and her fiancé. Upon arrival at their new
home, the couple would be greeted by Miss Annabelle’s twelve
students and any of the parents who wanted to stay, too. The
parents had arranged to pick up their children an hour and a half
early from school to be at the party.
Sally’s mom would be there. She had amazed doctors by
living far longer than they predicted. Teddy’s father would also
be there. He was now president of the company.

305

Yet, despite his success, he would always get a kick out of telling people that he makes less money than his 12-year-old son. In fact, he
would always say he’s considering working for his son.
Angie spent all day Thursday decorating the house for the
party. She did not want any signs of a party on the outside.
But when they would open the front door, they would be greeted
by a hundred colorful balloons floating overhead against the
ceiling with their multicolor, shiny ribbons dangling in the air.
Right in the middle of the floating artscape would be a huge
red and white banner, reaching from the left wall to the right
wall, declaring “Welcome Home, Mr. & Mrs. Melbourne!” Angie
thought it was only fitting, for she knew the thought of the
wedding gave them both fuel and was an important emotional
dimension they carried with them through the prison years.
The counselors for the prison system had met with Miss
Annabelle the week of her release and coached her about
readjusting to civilization. They explained to her a common
reaction called “overstimulation”. It was easy for a person
confined in the uneventful prison life to become overstimulated
and overwhelmed physically and emotionally. The counselor told
Miss Annabelle the signs to watch out for and what to do to
handle herself if overstimulation happened to her.
Miss Annabelle called Angie Thursday evening. They were
both excited about the big day to follow. Miss Annabelle told
Angie about the meeting she had with the prison counselors about
overstimulation. So, Angie realized she had to tell her about
the party so she would be prepared physically and emotionally.
“Oh, Angie…you and Jessie have stood by me and done so
much for me…for years. You’ve meant so much to me. I just
don’t know how to repay you.”
“Listen to me, honey,” Angie said, “we love you, and that’s
all that matters. You and John — you’re our best friends.”
“We love you, too. Thank you, Angie.”

306

Twelve children lay wide awake in bed Thursday night. They
were tossing and turning with excitement to be with their beloved
teacher again. Over and over, they kept seeing their teacher in
their mind’s eye. They were twelve years old now, and they
were physically maturing.
Miss Annabelle also lay in bed, wide awake, her mind
shuffling through images of her students and of John. Excitement
dominated her emotions. Yet, she wondered why she felt a little
scared. “To touch John again, wow,” she quietly whispered. “To
teach my kids again, wow!”
She had lived every day the past three years for tomorrow
— to be together again.

*

The bugle sounded at 6:00 a.m. Miss Annabelle smiled.
That’s the last time I’ll ever hear that, she thought as she sat
on the side of the bed. Already standing directly before her was
Megan. They had become close friends. Miss Annabelle stood
up and gave Megan a hug.
“You’ll be out in eleven months. I’m going to get permission
to visit you!” Miss Annabelle said.
“I’m so happy for you, Anna,” Megan said. She took a deep
breath and added, “Next time I see you, you’ll be Mrs. Annabelle
Melbourne!” They both laughed. “Remember what I told you
about how life goes by in a blink. Grab what is good for you
out there.”
“I’ll never forget, Meg. You gave me a precious gift. I’ll
never forget.”
As they stood there, they knew their feelings for each other
were going to a special, permanent place in their hearts. They
had gone through a struggle together that they now forever
shared. This was their last moment together in this struggle.
From now on, they would be a special memory to each other.
They looked deeply at each other, for that one last moment.
Then, the next moment, they were pulled apart by the morning
protocols, blending right back into the bustle of a prison morning.
This morning, however, Miss Annabelle did not report for duty.
Instead, she reported to the warden’s office where the release
procedures and paperwork began.

307

A few hours later, Miss Annabelle was given the clothes she
had arrived in. As she looked at her clothes, she couldn’t get
over the feeling that time stopped when she took off those clothes
three years and one month ago. When she put them on and
looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t get over the feeling
that whereas the world out there may go on, time in here stops
for prisoners.
Deep in that eerie thought, she did not notice the counselor
in the room. In a gentle voice, so as not to startle Miss
Annabelle, the female counselor said, “Remember Annabelle…take
it slowly at first.”
“Oh…oh, yes. Thank you.” Miss Annabelle said, turning
around. She could already feel emotions crawling around her
skin, and she knew the kind counselor knew it too.
“Good-bye, Annabelle. God bless.”

*

At noon, she walked out the front gate. When she stepped
past the gate, a wave of euphoria rushed up from her feet, up
through her heart and into her mind. She felt a great weight
leave her body. She ran over and hugged Angie, who was
waiting for her with open arms.
“I’m free.”
They walked around the wall toward the parking lot. In the
middle of the parking lot was a long, shiny black limo. “There’s
our ride,” Angie said. Angie had rented the limo and driver to
escort Miss Annabelle home in style.
“What! Angie…you’re spoiling me!” Miss Annabelle was
laughing as she looked over to the hill where the prisoners stood
at the front fence and cheered — a tradition whenever one of
them was released. Miss Annabelle waved to the ladies; they
cheered louder. Miss Annabelle was well liked by all who knew
her in there.
As the chauffeur got out to open her door, the ladies cheered
even louder. Miss Annabelle walked over to the car, then
stopped for one last look at the place she had spent the past three
years of her life. She felt an odd fondness for that simple place
and bade it farewell in her thoughts. As she took this one last
look, she saw Megan, smiling at her. Miss Annabelle nodded.
She blew Megan a kiss and got in the limo. As they drove away,
Megan’s words filled her thoughts, “Why frown when you can
smile?”

308

Miss Annabelle braced herself for the happiest day of her life.
She imagined this day over and over for three years…this was
the day she had lived for.
She lowered the window and felt the wind brush the side of
her face at 50 miles per hour. She enjoyed that sensation because
it was something only a free person outside the prison gate could
feel. She savored the sights of the countryside. Even the sight
of a cow grazing in the pasture was a symbol of freedom, for
those poor souls behind the gates go for years, even in some
cases for their remaining lives without seeing a cow grazing on
the dull green October grass. …John is seeing this too, she
thought.
The drive home was like the first feeding of a sight-starved
soul. The images of freedom are beautiful, Miss Annabelle
thought as they neared her hometown. The details of freedom
that go unnoticed for a lifetime in the ordinary person were now
amplified in her consciousness and filled her soul with
extraordinary joy. For my remaining years, she thought, I’ll find
joy in freedom for its own sake, a joy I never knew before. She
realized, for the first time, the joy Jessie and Angie felt every
day in their freedom from the inner city. This new sensation
of freedom made her aware of another form of freedom taken
for granted — the freedom of good health, a freedom Sally’s
mom will never have.
The big limousine cruised quietly along the small streets lined
with colorful trees about to drop their leaves. The limousine
turned left, then right, then right again. Then the car slowed
down.
“Third house on the right,” Angie said to the driver.
Miss Annabelle started trembling. In a minute, she would
be in John’s arms. She had not seen him for over three years.
She had not been in his arms. She had not made love to him.
What will it be like? She wondered nervously. Yet, she was
excited beyond words.

309

“Here’s the little love shack I told you about, for you and
your man,” Angie said while sweeping her arm toward the little
white house.
“It’s perfect,” Miss Annabelle said. Her eyes were wide. She
stared at the little white house lined with flower beds. Her soul
was absorbing this beautiful symbol of freedom, and it felt
wonderful that this beautiful sight would now include her and
the love of her life. “Here’s where all my dreams will come
true,” she whispered.
Miss Annabelle held Angie’s hand as they walked along the
sidewalk to the front steps of Miss Annabelle’s new home. She
was breathing rapidly from excitement and nervousness. “Are
my students inside?” she asked Angie.
“They’re here,” Angie said. Originally, this was going to be
a mighty surprise party. But when Angie learned not to
overstimulate Miss Annabelle or Mr. Melbourne after their
release, she told them both about the party so they could prepare
themselves.
“Are you OK?” Angie asked. Miss Annabelle shivered and
then nodded.
Angie opened the door slowly. Miss Annabelle stood behind
her. Suddenly, she could not wait another moment to hug John
and see her students. Oh, I hope he’s already here, she thought
as she and Angie walked through the door.
“What?” Angie said; her mouth dropped. Miss Annabelle
squeezed in to see one lady inside. It was Teddy’s mother.
“Jessie and John aren’t here yet,” Angie said to Miss
Annabelle. Then Angie turned to Teddy’s mom and asked, “But
where are the children?” Miss Annabelle looked at Teddy’s
mom, and noticed her eyes were bloodshot, as though she had
been crying.
“I have some sad news to tell you, Miss Annabelle”, she said.
A tear dropped out of her eye and splattered on her cheek; she
took a deep breath, then continued, “Today at school, your twelve
students were called to Ms. Minner’s office. She told them that
a judge issued a restraining order against you coming from within
300 yards of them.”
Miss Annabelle was stunned. She had just spent three years
in prison, and now she was told she could not see her students.

310

Lost in a fuzz of confusion, she sat down, right where she stood,
onto the tile floor.
“Teddy told me the girls cried and the boys angrily cursed
Ms. Minner. She had to leave her office.”
But Miss Annabelle was lost. “What’s going on?” she asked
Angie. “Where’s John…where’s my John?” Miss Annabelle was
beginning to panic. Just then, the phone rang.
Miss Annabelle was frightened. Something was terribly
wrong. She looked at Angie and wanted to speak, but nothing
would come out. Angie was on the phone saying, “Who are
they? What do they want? Call me as soon as you know
anything”. She hung up and knelt down face-to-face with Miss
Annabelle.
“John and Jessie are still there,” Angie said. “Jessie says
there are some authorities in a room talking to John right now.
Jessie will call as soon as they clear John.”
Miss Annabelle nodded, but she was scared. Who are those
authorities, and what do they want? Sixty seconds later the
phone rang again. Miss Annabelle shrieked; she was scared and
not familiar yet with a phone ring. Angie picked up the phone
on the first ring.
“Jessie?” Angie’s face went blank, “No…no…no!” Angie
dropped the phone. “Oh, baby,” she said, looking at Miss
Annabelle, “they’re the INS, and they’re deporting John!”
“Oh my God, Angie. I must get to him…I must see him…I
must be with him…” Miss Annabelle was panicking. This was
the day she fantasized about for three years that kept her sanity
while in prison. Now the day that gave her rationale to keep
going was vanishing like a mirage of an oasis.
“Anna, they won’t let anyone see him, not even Jessie.”
“No, goddamn it, nooo!” Miss Annabelle’s wretched cry
could be heard outside. She started to sink emotionally and
sobbed so hard her torso sank to the floor. There was no John
to hold; there was not one of her students to get to know again.
Angie felt helpless as she watched her best friend cry so hard
that her body pulled itself into the fetal position.
For three years Miss Annabelle held onto an image of this
day when she would reunite with her precious loved ones. That
image kept her sane.

311

But that wonderful image would never
happen. Now, she had to face the horror that for three years,
she was living for a nonreality — a mirage. Her sanity was
for naught, which now caused her to lose her sanity. The torture
of losing the two great values in her life — her students and
her John — was launched and could not be retrieved and
extinguished. Losing them was too much for her. The three
years of coping now, in a sense, turned inside out, and all the
pain she suppressed came gushing out as she lay on the floor
physically out of control, not coping, overstimulated with agony,
crying like an injured baby. Angie and Teddy’s mom were
frightened as they watched their friend sink deeper and
deeper…into a nervous breakdown.
The doorbell rang; Teddy’s mom turned around, barely
cracked open the door and peeked outside. There stood Ms.
Minner escorted by a policeman.
“Mrs. Winters, what’s going on in there?” Ms. Minner
demanded. Teddy’s mom wanted to shut the door and not let
this evil woman see her victim like this, but the policeman firmly
said, “Ma’am, open this door.”
Teddy’s mom slowly opened the door, revealing Miss
Annabelle during this tragic moment.
“Mercy me!” Ms. Minner exclaimed upon seeing Miss
Annabelle curled up and crying on the floor.
The policeman asked if she needed medical help. Angie’s
maternal instincts knew that Miss Annabelle needed some sense
of control and that being carted off by strangers would worsen
the situation.
“No sir. She just lost the most precious people in her life,”
Angie said, glaring at Ms. Minner. “She needs to be left alone
right now. Your being here — especially that woman — is
making the situation worse.”
The policeman was a decent person and told Ms. Minner they
should leave.
“This is God’s work, you know,” Ms. Minner said, caught
up in the moment. “Can’t you see? She’s possessed by evil
spirits. Look at her! Separating the forces of evil, separating
this woman and her lover will exorcise the demons, believe you
me! …I’d be not a bit surprised if John Melbourne is in the
same condition right now!”

312

“What!” Angie looked up at Ms. Minner. “How do you
know about John?”
Ms. Minner looked startled and realized she had said too
much.
“I asked you a question,” Angie continued. “How do you
know about John?”
Ms. Minner turned to the policeman and said, “Yes, we
should leave.” She quickly thrust some papers into the hands
of Teddy’s mom and said, “This is for her.” Then she turned
and rushed away.
Angie was fuming at Ms. Minner, but she had to devote her
attention to Miss Annabelle. Angie sat on the floor and placed
Miss Annabelle’s head on her lap and said, “Go ahead and let
it out, honey, let it all out. John’s okay. He’s okay, darling.
He’s okay.”

*

The next day was spent gathering information…as much as
could be gathered on a Saturday. Getting information brought
a sense of control into Miss Annabelle’s life, which helped her
cope again the day after the darkest moment of her life.
The INS had deported Mr. Melbourne, and Salinski was
proceeding to understand the legal reason and to spring free a
copy of an affidavit that was, perhaps, behind the deportation.
As the day progressed, however, the news got worse. “The
problem with the INS,” Salinski explained to Miss Annabelle in
frustration during an early afternoon phone call, “is that they can
decide the fate of any noncitizen at any time for any reason —
even for no real reason or, although they’re not supposed to, for
an agent’s own personal reasons. An INS agent can play God
with a noncitizen. A noncitizen is, in a sense, always on
probation. He has no rights whatsoever in relation to the INS.”
Another ominous fact Miss Annabelle learned as the day went
on was that once deported, it was nearly impossible to get back
to the United States. What does that mean? she pondered. She
also learned she could not go to live with him until her sentence
and probation was over — another two years! And what about
her students?

313

The paper Ms. Minner gave to Teddy’s mom was the official
restraining order. Miss Annabelle could not see her students and
could neither send them information through the mail nor
otherwise communicate with them until her probation was over.
She would be in a sort of prison for the next two years
without access to the greatest values in her life. And after that,
she would have to choose between her students and her fiancé.
The conflicts were piling up and starting to jeopardize her
emotional stability. She was emotionally fragile after her nervous
breakdown the day before. She was staying with Angie and
Jessie, and Angie could see the strain starting to add up.
The phone rang again as it had been all day. But it was
now 9:00 p.m. — too late for Salinski to still be getting
information. Let it be good news this time, Angie pleaded.
“John!” Jessie shouted in an elated voice. “She’s right here!”
He no less finished the sentence as Miss Annabelle ran over and
took the phone.
“Darling!” Miss Annabelle said…then she smiled. It was
the first time she heard his voice in three years. The sound of
his voice immediately removed the strain in her face and body.
Angie and Jessie looked at each other and breathed a sigh of
relief. This was the first sign of life in their guest since the
breakdown.
John was back in Australia. He had just arrived and was in
his parents’ home. To hear his voice brought strength back to
the little lady. Angie and Jessie knew this was the best medicine
for their friend.
“Now, she can talk through all the conflicts with the love
of her life,” Angie said to Jessie as they went upstairs to let
her talk and cry and laugh, for this was the lovers’ first moment
together in “freedom”.

314

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Five
————————

Salinski handed Miss Annabelle the sealed affidavit, two
weeks later. It had been sealed by the federal government for
ten working days. As suspected, the affidavit was written by
Ms. Minner warning the INS that Miss Annabelle and Mr.
Melbourne would get married soon after their release.
“If you want to remove a violent threat to society — the work
of the devil himself — before his marriage to a U. S. citizen,
you’d better move fast,” she wrote.
Miss Annabelle had been weighing her options over and over
those past two weeks. There was no good answer. But tonight,
after seeing Minner’s affidavit, Miss Annabelle began reviewing
her options again. She was searching for a clear choice, but
there was none.
She had, with her lawyer, discussed three options. The first
two options were illegal and carried great risks and grave
consequences. The third option was the safe choice, but it was
an unbearable thought: to not be with John for two more years,
not until probation concluded and she would be free to leave the
country.
The first option was high risk. The day John got to Australia
and called Miss Annabelle, they talked for hours and figured out
what their three options were.

315

Like her, he did not want to wait
two more years for the third option, although he knew the third
option was safe and would mean that he might return to the
United States in ten years or perhaps less — to become a U. S.
citizen.
He started researching their first option: sneaking back into
the country either through Mexico or Canada. The idea seemed
drastic to Miss Annabelle, and the thought of the love of her
life risking his health or freedom worried Miss Annabelle. She
called Bruce Salinski for his input.
“A Caucasian with blond hair and blue eyes coming through
a high-traffic, tourist point such as Niagara Falls from the North
or San Ysidro from the South carries good odds,” Salinski
explained.
“But what if he were caught by the Border Police?”
“Then he would be permanently blocked for life from ever
returning to the United States. But the odds are good, maybe a
90% chance of getting through. Once here, he could live a lowprofile life indefinitely. When your probation is over in two
years, he could quietly slip back to Australia where you could
go to get him. You could marry, and start working on getting
him back to this country legally.”
“What if we were caught living together?”
“Disaster would strike. You could both go back to prison
for your full original sentences of five years each, plus added
time — perhaps substantial added time for a second felony
offense — for criminal acts of illegally entering the country and
you illegally harboring him. Moreover, two felons on probation
seeing and talking to one another is prohibited by law.”
“What about the second option — me going to Australia?”
she asked.
“That’d be relatively easy to do, but the consequences would
be immediate. Upon missing your weekly probation meeting,
you’d be in violation. Upon coming back to the U.S., you’d
have to go back to prison for your full five-year term. Time
done already would not count against those five years. Plus,
you’d get more time for fleeing the country. In short, if you
leave to be with him, you could never come back.”
Miss Annabelle sighed, overwhelmed by the harsh
consequences.

316

“But I have an idea that could help you reach a decision,”
Salinski continued. “After talking to different immigration
experts, I feel confident you would be permitted three one-week
trips to Australia per year for the remainder of your probation.”
“I love the idea,” she said immediately. “Being together for
a full week every four months will work wonderfully. Two years
will zoom by, and we’ll marry. …Yes, I like it!”
So, Salinski prepared a reasonable proposal to present to the
authorities.

*

A sense of control was jelling around Miss Annabelle. The
proposal for travel permission had been presented. She had
moved into her little home, and though she could not contact
her students in any way, she started working on the next weekly
lecture, just as if she would send it to them on audio tape as
she did in prison. She did not know if her students would ever
hear it, but she knew she needed to continue developing her
program. Someday, she knew, it would be an immense value
to many children.
One afternoon while working on an invaluable lecture about
developing the power of a curious mind, Salinski called Miss
Annabelle.
“I’m coming over, Anna. We’ve got an answer. I’ll be there
in fifteen minutes.” Salinski sounded rushed, so Miss Annabelle
did not probe for the answer.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. Miss Annabelle was
pleasantly surprised to see Angie.
“Hi Angie! Bruce Salinski is on his way over. They gave
him our answer. …Oh, I can’t wait!”
“I know, he called me and told me, too. He asked me to
come over.”
While they were still standing in the doorway, Salinski pulled
up to the curb and seemed to hurry out of his car toward the
house.
“Let’s go inside, and I’ll read their response,” he said.

317

.

Inside, he pulled a piece of paper from an envelope and read:
“Based on additional information learned about Annabelle
Barclays, permission to travel to Australia is denied.”
Miss Annabelle gasped as he read the response.
“What additional information?” Angie asked, in shock herself.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” Salinski said.
Miss Annabelle sat down. “Will I be able to get permission
to travel to him at all over the next two years?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know the nature of the additional
information they’ve found about you. My suspicion is that
someone who doesn’t like you — Ms. Minner — is providing
the authorities with something damaging to your credibility.”
“That bitch!” Angie cursed.
“Right now, I can’t say, but if I had to lay odds, I doubt if
you’ll get to see John before your probation is up.”

*

“How are you holding up, baby?” Angie asked Miss
Annabelle. Angie and Jessie were visiting.
“I don’t know,” Miss Annabelle said. “I’m scared to death
for John. If he’s caught…I can’t even think about it.”
“He’s made his decision; don’t think about the what-ifs,”
Jessie said. “The odds of getting through are really good.”
Mr. Melbourn decided to slip back into America and secretly
live with Miss Annabelle. Only Angie and Jessie, Bruce Salinski,
and Miss Annabelle knew.
“I know,” Miss Annabelle answered, “But the penalty, if he
is caught, is unacceptable.”
Jessie and Angie looked at each other. Jessie sighed then
said, “Yeah, I know. I’ve gotta say, I’m a nervous wreck
myself.”
“Me too,” Angie said. They looked at Miss Annabelle.
Miss Annabelle looked back at her two best friends and
smiled. The admission of their nervousness, for some reason,
helped her to relax some.
“He called me and told me he couldn’t communicate with
you until he’s here,” Jessie said.
“He called you?”
“Yeah. He explained that he can’t call you because that could
incriminate you if he’s caught.”

318

Miss Annabelle looked down and said, “I know, he told me.”
“John said he’ll call Angie and me every day to tell us how
he’s doing.”
“And we’ll tell you everything,” Angie added.
“Thank you,” Miss Annabelle said. She smiled and added,
“I’d sure like that.”
“Try to relax, honey,” Angie said. “He should be here in a
few days.”

*

Before Miss Annabelle could offer her guests anything, Jessie
said, “I’ve got bad news. John was stopped at the U.S.-Canadian
border. They didn’t apprehend him, thank goodness.”
Miss Annabelle stared at Jessie; she was frozen. She did not
know what to say.
“Honey,” Angie said, putting her arm around Miss Annabelle,
“They let him go.”
Miss Annabelle nodded.
“There’s more,” Jessie said. “Let’s all sit down.”
Angie sat on the couch with Miss Annabelle. Jessie sat on
the chair and continued, “John didn’t want me to tell you this
until he was in.”
“Tell me what?”
“He crossed the Mexican border on foot.”
“What!”
“Upon being stopped at the U.S.-Canadian border,” Jessie
continued, “his picture was automatically posted at all entry
points. He decided to make a run for it.”
“Oh my god!” cried Miss Annabelle. She looked at Jessie
in horror.
“The hard part’s over. He’s in the country, and he’s going
to call me every other night or so. He had a pretty rough first
night, but that’s behind him now.” Jessie paused to think of
where to start his story. Miss Annabelle’s eyes were begging
for him to continue.
“He befriended a wonderful Mexican family,” Angie said.
“Yes,” Jessie continued, “and there’s this wonderful little boy
who’s going to cross the country with John. His name is
Oscar…”

319

“Why doesn’t John just get on a plane and fly here?” Miss
Annabelle asked.
“It’s complicated,” said Jessie. “He can’t fly here, so I
offered to fly to San Diego, rent a car, and drive him here, but
he won’t allow it.”
Jessie and Angie stayed for over an hour relaying to their
best friend the detail-by-detail story of John’s first night crossing
the border.
As they were leaving, Miss Annabelle said, “Thanks for all
this. I really appreciate you two.”
Angie hugged Miss Annabelle and said, “You and John are
our best friends; we’d do anything for you.”

*

“John and the little boy, Oscar, are riding on a large semi
with this great guy named Chuck,” Jessie reported to Miss
Annabelle two days later. “If everything goes smoothly, John
will be here in a little over a week.”
“Where’s he sleeping, what’s he eating? Is he warm
enough?” Miss Annabelle had many questions. “Why don’t they
just get on a plane?”
Angie looked at Jessie and frowned.
“What is it?” Miss Annabelle said. “Something’s wrong!”
Angie nodded and said, “He’s okay, but he got in a terrible
fight—”
“A fight? A fight! Oh my god, is he hurt?”
“He’s pretty sore, but he’ll live,” Jessie said.
“What happened? Tell me, Jessie!”
“Some white-trash racist tried to hurt Oscar, the little boy
who’s travelling across the country with John.”
“John wouldn’t let that happen,” Miss Annabelle said.
“No, he sure wouldn’t,” Jessie said. “He and the racist got
into it pretty seriously. I guess John’s a lucky man to walk away
from it.”
Jessie and Angie told Miss Annabelle everything. Miss
Annabelle cried when she heard how violent the fight had been.
“But he’s all right now,” Angie said in conclusion, “except
he really misses you and the kids.”

320

Miss Annabelle smiled.
“Oh, yes,” Angie continued, “during every call he asks us
to tell him about you…and he asks us to tell him everything
about what’s going on in the lives of your former students.”
“I think our stories give him peace…and strength,” Jessie said.
“It’s a taxing journey, but John’s a strong man. After his fight,
I told him about what’s going on with Ian. That story really
lifted John. I could feel it in his voice.”
Miss Annabelle smiled again and said, “But why don’t they
just get on a plane?”
“The evening news in California carried the story of the
fight,” said Jessie, “and they showed John’s picture on television.
And worse, when we called Bruce Salinski to tell him about the
fight, he told us he already knew and that several states had
picked up, over the wire, the local paper’s article about the fight,
using it as an example of growing racial tensions building in
California and throughout America. John’s picture is in the
papers; he has to stay out of sight.”

*

“Hi Anna,” Jessie said over the phone. “Everything’s going
well. John and Oscar are about halfway across the country.”
Miss Annabelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She
reopened her eyes and said, “I just can’t wait to see him and
hold him again.”

*

Miss Annabelle arrived at Jessie and Angie’s house for dinner.
Angie opened the door wearing a large smile. “Tonight they’ll
arrive in Savannah, Georgia,” she said. “Tomorrow they’ll take
a bus to Miami to drop off the little boy. And the next day —
the day after tomorrow — John will be on a bus for Buffalo.
In just three days, he’ll be knocking at your door!”
Miss Annabelle could not stop her grin from going too wide
— the smile of a little girl.
“Come in, honey,” Angie said. “Let’s celebrate John’s
homecoming!”

321

“Hi Anna!” Jessie called out from the kitchen. “I was
thinking, if John calls while you’re here, what’s the harm of you
talking to him tonight? No one’ll ever know.”
“Oh, thank you. You two—” Miss Annabelle suddenly burst
into tears. She covered her face with her hands. The anxiety
had caught up to her.
“Oh, honey,” Angie said, “it’s almost over. It’s almost all
over.”
Miss Annabelle nodded and removed her hands to look at
her friends. Her face was oscillating between crying and smiling.
“I know…I know,” she said in a worn, sad voice, “I just need
him in my arms again.”

322

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Six
————————

A light knock on the front door caused Miss Annabelle’s heart
to jump for joy. “It’s John,” she whispered. This was the day
he would arrive. She ran for the door; her heart pounded wildly.
She pulled back her door with arms wide open…
Instead of her John, she faced Bruce Salinski and Angie.
“Anna, I need you to be strong,” Angie said.
Immediately, Salinski followed with, “The INS took John into
custody earlier this morning in Florida, waiting to load a
Greyhound Bus for Buffalo.”
Miss Annabelle felt a numb buzzing fill her head. “Oh no,
Bruce…he can’t go back to prison! Oh no! No!”
“Anna, wait, wait…” Salinski interrupted, “John’s on a plane
right now heading back to Australia.”
“He’s…he’s free to leave?” She was breathing very fast from
fright, and she was staring at Salinski for answers.
“I’m told he’s safely on his way back to Australia.”
“Oh…thank goodness!” Miss Annabelle breathed deeply from
relief. She was so relieved that John Melbourne was going back
home instead of going back to prison that the letdown of not
seeing him did not register.
“Come in, come in…oh, I was so afraid he’d be going back
to prison to serve out the rest of his sentence.”

323

Angie breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that Miss
Annabelle was handling this well. “How do you feel, honey?”
Angie asked her.
“I’m okay. I’m actually feeling good now that I know John’s
safe, and he’s free.”
“Good,” said Salinski, “because you’re going to need a clear
head to make a decision that’s going to have lifelong
consequences. Anna, the INS here was contacted about John
being apprehended in Florida. Your probation officer called me
at home a short while ago. He asked that you turn in your
passport first thing in the morning. I’m your lawyer and can’t
be telling you otherwise. But if you ever considered any other
option, you’d have to move on it now. Tomorrow by noon, your
probation officer will be at your door looking for you.”
Miss Annabelle sat down and, in a strained voice backed by
many hours of previously agonizing over this consideration, she
asked, “What would it mean if I left the country?”
Angie gasped.
“You’d never come back. The odds are against Australia
extraditing you. You’d live the rest of your life with John in
Australia; you’d never be here again.” Salinski paused. He took
a deep breath and said, “If you go within the hour, you can drive
through Niagara during the busy dinner rush and be in Toronto
with your passport by eight o‘clock. You can be in Australia
by the time your probation officer notifies his superiors that
you’re missing. But remember, when you say good-bye to Angie,
you’ll never be back here again. You’ll never see your students
again.”
Miss Annabelle’s head dropped. She stared at the floor for
what seemed like a long time in the hurried atmosphere, then
slowly said, “If I stay?”
“If you stay, you must turn in your passport tomorrow
morning. I find out what negative information Ms. Minner has
given them and work to reverse the damage. There’s a slight
chance you’ll get travel permission, but these decisions against
you are hard to reverse, especially now. …You certainly would
not get to go three times a year and, most likely, not at all. …In
short, plan on not seeing John for two years. If you and John
can live with that, it’s the choice that would allow you to return
to or visit America whenever you wanted to.”

324

“I should stay,” she said. An immediate wave of relief went
through Angie and a lot of tension left Salinski. “But I don’t
know if I can stay,” Miss Annabelle said after a pause. She
looked up at Salinski helplessly.
“You must realize,” Salinski said, “John will never step foot
here again unless they change the laws.”
The anxiety returned. “Oh God, I need to really think about
this. I need an hour,” she said, looking at Salinski and then at
her best friend. “Angie, could you come back in an hour? I’ll
know my decision then.”
Angie nodded, too emotional to talk. She walked over and
hugged her best friend. She and Salinski turned to leave. At
the door, Salinski turned around and said, “If you don’t know
in one hour, then you’ll have no choice but to stay. You need
to be out of the Sydney Airport before the authorities here figure
out what’s going on.”
Miss Annabelle nodded.
“If you go, I’ll drive you to Toronto. You’ll pose as my
wife. One lightly packed suitcase is all you can take in case
they check. It must look like we’re going up for the weekend.”
“Thank you,” Miss Annabelle said, realizing Salinski was
risking his livelihood and even criminal exposure.
When the front door closed behind her friends, Miss
Annabelle closed off her emotions. She knew she did not have
the luxury of time to feel the pain. She had to think and think
hard to make the decision that would result in entirely different
futures.
How could I ever leave my students? she asked herself. If
I stay, I’ll see them in two years. If I go, I’ll never see them
again. I couldn’t bear that.
But she realized that if she stayed, in reality she would see
her students just briefly again. For, she would soon thereafter
be off to Australia to be with John, who could never come back
to the States now. She would then see her students maybe three
times after that, taking a trip alone back home to visit them once
a year. But after three trips, her students would be off to college.
With their superior Neothink minds, they would be leaving little
Cheektowaga to attend different universities and to create values
all over the grand globe.

325

I was thirty-six years old, she reflected, when I left my
students and kissed John good-bye. If I stay, I’ll be almost fortytwo years old when I see him again. That’s too long…that’s a
whole phase of life we’ll never share.
She remembered Megan in prison telling her how life goes
by in a blink…then is gone. “Go after what makes you happy,”
Megan said from a life of experience. If she were here now,
Miss Annabelle thought, Megan would say, “When something is
good for you, don’t hesitate. Go for it, or you might miss
everything. Your journey could end before it begins.”
Miss Annabelle knew what to do. She had known all along.
She knew before Angie and Salinski had left.

*

The knock on the door was tentative.
“Come in!” Miss Annabelle called out.
Angie and Jessie walked in. They both dropped their heads
as they saw their best friend standing with a small suitcase.
Angie nearly cried.
“Oh, Anna,” Jessie said in a sad, deep voice. “You’re going.”
The depth of feeling in Jessie’s voice broke open the dam
Miss Annabelle had placed before her emotions. She dropped
her suitcase and cried. In a high voice, she said, “I’ve been
such a pain to both of you for four years. I don’t want to leave
you. You’re the most wonderful friends I’ve ever had. I have
to go, but I don’t know how I can possibly leave you. …This
is so hard!”
Miss Annabelle was trembling as she was in that first schoolboard meeting when she entered the lunch room. Angie gathered
herself and walked over and hugged her.
“Listen to me, Anna,” Angie said. “You never, not ever were
a pain to Jessie and me. You’re the only person we’ve met since
moving out of our nightmare in Philly who is like us at heart.
We love you and always will.”
Jessie bit his bottom lip and added, “We fought for what was
right down in Philly, and now we’re living our dream together.
You fought for what was right in Cheektowaga, and now you
must go, Anna.

326

You’ll live your dream, a new dream in a new
life, with John. You gave all that you could to your students
— and it was enough. It was enough.”
“You must go,” Angie repeated, putting her hands on Miss
Annabelle’s shoulders and looking into her eyes.
Here Angie and Jessie were, right to the end, giving her that
priceless value they gave her from the beginning: strength. As
in that first school board meeting, Miss Annabelle could feel
strength coming from Angie and Jessie, calming her nerves. The
trembling left.
“Good-bye,” she said, hugging Angie and then Jessie. They
knew it was their last embrace, their last look. She whispered,
“I’ll always treasure our friendship…it’s so rare…so special.”
Then she slipped a book into Jessie’s hand, turned around and
walked away.
Jessie and Angie watched their friend walk to Salinski’s car,
out of their lives forever.

*

Salinski did not speak for twenty minutes, giving his client
time to feel the impact of what she was forever leaving
behind…and to give her the freedom to change her mind. Once
she passed the border, there would be no turning back. Her life
would be forever dramatically different.
Miss Annabelle welcomed the silence. Her mind went back
to her students. She knew Jessie was right: it was enough. She
had planted the seed of Neothink — and that’s all she needed
to do. She felt grateful she had the full year to plant the seed
in her twelve students and grateful that their seeds were growing.
A sad, sad thought tormented her though — that she would
not be there for Sally when her mom died.
“When we get to the border,” Salinski said, breaking the long
silence, “they’ll just wave us through. If they stop us, it won’t
be the U. S. Border Patrol; it’ll be the Canadian Border Patrol.
In thinking it through further, we should not pose as spouses on
a holiday. It’ll be easiest, especially on you, if we tell them
true facts and still accomplish our goal, instead of telling lies.
They’re professionals at catching lies. So, if they ask, we’ll tell
them our real names.

327

If they ask the nature of our stay, we’ll
say we’re going to Toronto on business. If they ask for more
details, I’m your lawyer, and we have a meeting with William
Davenport, a retired appeal-lawyer specialist who practiced in
New York before retiring to Mississauga, a suburb about 25
kilometers south of Toronto. I actually set up an appointment
with him tomorrow at eleven o’clock. Everything will check out,
and we’ll be confident telling true facts. Your passport record
will not yet have a flag on it…it’s too soon.”
His plan relieved the growing anxieties in Miss Annabelle.
Now, she felt completely relaxed. When they got to the border,
the border patrol waved them through without asking any
questions.
“When we get to the airport, you’ll get on the first plane to
Australia, even if it’s double the cost of the following flight,”
he said, wanting her cleared at the Sydney Airport before the
authorities here sounded the alarm.
At the airport, Miss Annabelle managed to get a quick call
to John to tell him she would be there tomorrow. He was
shocked and elated. She had no time to explain what was
happening to her. That would have to wait.
At 8:50 p.m., Miss Annabelle thanked Salinski and shook his
hand. “I wish we had some time to talk about you,” she said.
“I’ll never forget your honesty three years ago when you stood
up to ego justice in our trial.”
“I’ll talk to you on the phone and will let you know what
I’ve gone through,” he answered. “Until then, let me just say,
it’s been a hard path, but it’s the honest path, and I would never
change that.”
They were both living in a different world than most everyone
else — the fully honest world. They were both enduring the
attacks from those who built their lives on dishonest illusions.
“By the way,” Salinski added, “don’t call anyone in the
States, no one but me. The authorities can trace any other phone
line but mine since I’m your lawyer. And don’t write to
anyone…not even Angie, not even your students — no one. The
authorities can and will track you down. Call only me.”
Those last comments by Salinski made the reality of what
she was permanently leaving behind sink in for the first time.

328

This was it; she was going for good. The reality of leaving her
loved ones made her go numb. She nodded to Salinski, turned
and boarded the plane. She would be in Australia, in John’s
arms, sometime tomorrow.

*

Miss Annabelle cried for hours during the flight. People
sitting around her assumed she had suffered a death in the family.
But the pain went even deeper. She felt the pain of a mother
permanently separated from her children.

*

She saw him before he saw her. She stopped to admire him.
She always knew he was a good-looking man, but she never
realized how he stood out as so handsome among the people
around him.
He looked big and strong, yet slim. He filled out his camel
colored short-sleeved, pullover wool shirt. His chest, shoulders,
and arms looked broad and well-defined. His legs looked long
in his white slacks. Most of all, his face, with those piercing
blue eyes, radiated a sexy strength that came from years of
constant hard thinking and penetrating breakthroughs. She studied
him; she felt herself overflowing with beautiful emotions. She
stood there, tingling and warm inside. Being here, she thought,
is oh, so right…so very right.
He spotted her and ran toward her. This amazing man is
running to me, she thought, which tickled her inside and made
her laugh out loud. He wrapped his arms around her and
scooped her off her feet. “God, I’ve missed that laugh, my
darling,” he said, his voice coming from somewhere deep within.
“Anna, I forgot how beautiful you are! Oh…you feel so good!”
He was saying everything she was feeling.
“My John,” she said looking into his sweet blue eyes. “I’ve
missed you more than I could bear.”
“Everything is okay now,” he whispered into her ear while
hugging her tightly.

329

“Everything is beautiful,” she said. She hugged him as tightly
as she could. She was afraid to let go. “I could never be away
from you again.”
Somewhere in the back of their minds, they knew the option
of “waiting it out” would have never worked, for they knew they
could not ever be apart for any length of time, not ever again.
Still, very deep within, Miss Annabelle’s soul was weeping
and asking, “Where are my students?”

330

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
————————

“That is, sadly, where our story ends,” a generation-older
Jessie was saying to Jake.
Jake had been staying with Angie and Jessie for a week and
had to be getting back to campus soon. He felt as if he were
uncovering a valuable part of history here. He was making an
important discovery and was part of something bigger than
himself. He was also building a deep friendship with Angie and
Jessie, and he felt as if his lifelong friends would be found
through forging ahead with this project.
“What happened to her?” Jake asked, hoping he would
somehow hear more about Miss Annabelle.
Angie, as slim and healthy as she was the day her best friend
left twenty-three years before, said, “We left out a piece of
information; it was too early to tell you before.” Angie looked
at Jessie. He nodded, and she continued, “Ms. Minner was
writing authorities to extradite Miss Annabelle. She knew
Annabelle went to Australia to be with John. So, Anna took
on a new identity.”
Angie hesitated, then said, “She wrote us occasionally, Jake.
We’re sorry we told you we didn’t have any contact with her,
but in essence we didn’t because she never included her
address…or name.”

331

“She’d sign every letter ‘Your friend’,” Jessie said.
“Why?” Jake interrupted. “Do you have those letters — can
I see them?”
“Yes, we have them,” Angie said, looking at Jessie. “And
I’ll let you read them because I think Anna would want that.”
“Yes, I agree,” Jessie said, nodding.
“She didn’t give us her address,” Angie continued, “because she
didn’t want to incriminate us. The District Attorney’s office asked
us on three different occasions if we knew her whereabouts. …But,
as you’ll read in those letters, she was dying to hear from us.”
“But, wouldn’t the statute of limitations be long over by
now?” Jake asked.
“John and Anna and their lawyer were too smart for that
trick,” Jessie said.
“What trick?” Jake looked puzzled.
“First of all, the IRS twice questioned us about her
whereabouts years after she left.” Angie answered.
“Anna warned us in her letters that would happen,” Jessie
added. “Salinski told her the IRS was the government’s best
resource to get people it wants.”
“And there’s NO statute of limitations for not filing with the
IRS,” Angie said. She shook her head.
“Even if you’re not here in this country?” Jake asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jessie said. “If you’re a U.S. citizen and
in Australia making money, you need to file. Of course, Anna
couldn’t file because of the extradition proceedings against her.”
“And this is why she couldn’t contact her students all this
time,” Angie said. “The U.S. authorities could not know where
she was, and they were looking.”
“That’s right,” said Jessie, “by contacting people here who
loved her and would protect her and would never reveal her
whereabouts could bring them problems with the law. She
wouldn’t do anything that could hurt her students, so she decided
she wouldn’t write to them.”
“What happened to her students after she left?”
“It was very sad,” Angie said. “Anna broke the rule just
once. Two weeks after she left I received a letter for her
students. She asked if Jessie and I could somehow get them
together and read it to them.”

332

“I told them one by one in the halls at school that Miss
Annabelle sent us a letter to read to them,” Jessie said. “We
would all meet at Sally’s house Friday after school. I think most
of the kids’ parents knew, but no one said anything. I’ll always
remember how each child’s face lit up when I told him about
receiving the letter. …But every last one of them cried as Angie
read the letter. I think they thought it was the start of contact
again with their beloved teacher. As Angie read the letter, they
realized it was her good-bye.”
“Everyone was crying, even me.” Angie said.
“Wow, I can imagine that,” Jake said, realizing the power
that little lady had on his own emotions even though he never
met her. “Do you still have that letter?”
“No,” Angie and Jessie said in harmony. Then Jessie
continued, “It was hard evidence of breaking the restraining order.
Annabelle was afraid a parent would tell Ms. Minner and the
authorities would come to us for it. She asked us to destroy it
after we read it to the children.”
“It really felt as if Anna herself were there, though, talking
to the kids…then she was gone…gone from their lives, forever.”

*

Later that Saturday afternoon, Jake asked Angie, “Did Miss
Annabelle ever have children of her own?”
Angie dropped her eyes towards the floor. Jake suddenly
realized this was a very sensitive topic for her.
“No,” she said. “Like Jessie and me, Anna wanted children
with John more than anything else in the world after she left
here. But mother nature played a cruel trick on her. A few
months after she left her twelve ‘adopted children’, she could
not have children of her own. She told us about it in a letter.
She said she now knew the emptiness of not ever being able to
have a child, as Jessie and I expressed to her once. The physical
and psychological trauma of Hammerschmidt, prison, and then
permanent separation from her students added up against her
system and brought on early menopause, shortly after she moved
to Australia.

333

When I read her letter, I kept thinking how I
wanted to save her from the emptiness Jessie and I have lived
with…especially Anna of all people.”
“What about adoption?” Jake asked.
“She couldn’t. They’d discover her true identity. She was
a woman with so much love to give and yet, she could never
be a mom.”

*

Later that evening, Jake asked Jessie, “What was the book
she put in your hand when she was leaving?”
“Her diary,” Jessie said.
Her diary! Jake had forgotten all about that.
“Her diary, starting with that one, beautiful year…until the
day she slipped it in my hand,” Jessie continued. “She left a
note inside that said: ‘Jessie and Angie, the memories are special.
The memories are permanent pictures in my mind that I’ll never
forget; they’re even more visually vivid and permanent in my
mind than the words here on paper. So, I give my diary to you
because I think it will show you how deeply I feel for you…and
for those beautiful children I’m leaving behind. You may read
it to them, too. I love you, forever. Anna.’ …Let me tell you
something, Jake, even twenty-seven years later, reading her diary
of that year still takes my breath away.”
“Jessie and I got together with the kids a few times after
Anna left,” Angie added. “Every time we did, they’d ask me
to read to them from her diary…sometimes a specific part,
sometimes just at random. The kids loved hearing her thoughts.
Sometimes they’d laugh…sometimes they’d cry because they
missed her so.”
“May I read it?” Jake asked.
“Yes,” Jessie said, “Now that you know the story, you may
read it.”
Jessie went to get the diary. He returned and gave it to Jake.
Jessie and Angie knew Jake wanted to read it right away, so
they said good-night.
Jake opened the diary and looked into Miss Annabelle’s soul.
And although the story Jessie and Angie had told Jake had
prepared him, still what he read sent an emotional impact through
him that shook him from his head to his feet.

334

Had he not been told the story by Jessie and Angie, he would have been frozen like a deer looking directly into the blinding lights of an
oncoming truck; he would have been helpless to brace himself
for the emotional impact.
But with the story behind him, he could handle the emotional
impact, her breathtaking connection with and love for the children
in her class. Her descriptions of her students’ expressions, their
growing thrill for life, and the incomprehensible trap of the
anticivilization they were heading into…shook up Jake’s
emotional constitution and drew to a head the tragedy of the
anticivilization. Her revelations of pure love and its power went
an entire leap beyond Jesus or Buddha. Jake knew he was inside
the soul of the next evolution of man.
After fifteen minutes, Jake closed the diary to calm down.
As he rested, he could not think of one parallel experience…not
one in his life.
Jake reopened the diary. He was emotionally shaken as he
read her entries about the lives, the love, the togetherness and
happiness of her students. Jake never knew those levels of
emotions even existed. He knew those new emotions came from
the soul of the God-Man. Jake read every page of the miracle
year and then collapsed on his bed, immediately falling into an
exhausted sleep.

*

Jake woke the next morning with a start.
“Of course!” he called out as he stumbled out of his room
looking for Angie or Jessie, but they were still sleeping. Oh
right, he remembered, it’s Sunday. That’s okay, I’ll surprise them
later.
Jake went back into his room; he knew how to find Miss
Annabelle. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more
obvious it became. He chuckled under his breath: isn’t that the
way so many discoveries are made? Seeing the obvious?
He remembered, from one of her lectures, the meaning of life
was happiness, and the real source of happiness came from
putting values into society. The more values, the more happiness.

335

Miss Annabelle lived her life for happiness, so it followed that
her great values — her lectures — would be put into society to
reach as many people as possible. When he woke up this
morning and saw his laptop, the idea clicked: she would have
put her lectures out there — on the Internet!
But Jake had just recently bought his laptop and only used
it for writing school papers. He was not yet set up to log onto
the Internet. His desktop back in his dorm room used DSL
service for high-speed Internet access, which required a special
modem. He thought about how he also went to his University’s
library sometimes to do Internet research.
I wonder where I can find a community college around here,
he thought. “Then again,” he said to himself, “it’s probably too
early on a Sunday morning.”
He looked at the phone in his guest room and mumbled, “I
bet I can figure out how to get set up on the Internet with my
laptop before I can get to a library that’s open.”
He pulled out his laptop and placed it on the little table in
his bedroom and plugged it in. He pushed the phone line into
its receptor. “I hope I can get a dial-up connection,” he said.
Then, he called directory service on his cell phone.
Ten minutes passed. “Yes!” he hissed. He was on-line.
Now, he went to his search engines and entered several key
words from one of his favorite lectures — the one where Miss
Annabelle explained why Sally’s mom might be saved by
advanced God-Man. He got a listing of 147 possibilities. Barely
able to breathe, he scrolled through those, linking to those that
looked like possibilities.
He came upon one listing by a Darlene Belle. He clicked
to its web site, read a few lines, then shouted, “Oh my God, I
found her! I found her!”
Jake leapt from his chair and rushed out of the room to get
Jessie and Angie. He didn’t realize Jessie had gotten up and
heard Jake yelling. Jessie rushed toward Jake’s room to see what
was going on. They nearly crashed into each other in the
doorway, startling Jake and causing him to holler, which, in turn,
startled Jessie and caused him to holler. After the two men
settled down, Jake said, “Jessie…I found her. Here! She’s
Darlene Belle! This is her lecture to the class about God-Man
saving Sally’s mom!”

336

Jessie leaned over and squinted at the laptop. “I’ll be
doggone! I always knew I should learn how to work these
computers! Angie!” Jessie ran out of the room to get his wife.
By the time Jessie and Angie returned a moment later, Jake
had nearly a full history on Darlene Belle.
“This is Miss Annabelle, all right,” Jake said. He scrolled
down a long page of accomplishments. “She’s famous, you
know. She’s the author of that bestseller How To Raise A Genius
Through Five-Minute Bedtime Stories!”
Jessie whistled as Jake scrolled down her many lectures,
articles, books, and links.
“Hi Anna. It’s been a long time, baby,” Angie said. “Oh,
I’m so proud of her!”
“I can email her, you know,” Jake said, “or at least her
secretary.”
“Oh my Lord, I don’t know what to say!” Angie said. She
looked at Jessie. Her eyes were full of uncertainty as emotions
started to overwhelm her. Jessie put his big arm around her and
said, “Tell her, we miss her very much.”

*

That evening, the floodgates broke. Miss Annabelle read her
email first thing at work Monday morning, which was Sunday
evening in New York. Miss Annabelle, now world-renowned as
Darlene Belle, and Angie and Jessie exchanged two long letters
each, via email, by midnight, New York time.
Jake had asked them if he should leave, but Angie and Jessie
did not mind that Jake was there, reading the exchange of letters.
They actually liked having him there. He was turning into their
first close friend since Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne left.
What stood out to Jake was the love among these people.
Success and separation did not make Miss Annabelle emotionally
distant. It seemed to Jake that her success made her emotionally
closer, for Angie and Jessie were her real friends.
As Jake watched the excitement and passion in their letters,
he began to wonder what it would be like to see Miss Annabelle
and her husband together again with her former students, with
Angie and Jessie, and with that honest lawyer who represented
her and helped her leave the country to have a happy life with
Mr. Melbourne.

337

Now that Jake had found Miss Annabelle, he knew he must
locate her twelve former students. Of course, he already knew
about Ian, Sally, Theodore, and Daniel Ward. They were
internationally famous people taking science, medicine, business,
and politics to the next level.
What were the other eight doing now? That question beat
like a drum, over and over again, in Jake’s mind. Were they
God-Men, too? Under any other circumstances, four of the
world’s most known persons coming out of the same third-grade
class of twelve students would be statistically unbelievable. But
under these circumstances, Jake realized Miss Annabelle had
taken her students through an evolution into the next mentality
of man. Jake began to think that the other eight students must
be very creative and successful.
He told Angie and Jessie of his idea to locate each former
student. They got excited about the idea, too. By god, Jake
asked himself, why does Miss Annabelle have to be separated
from her students any longer? Then he got lost in the
possibilities as he asked himself, what would it be like to have
a reunion? The threat of the IRS, however, was too great to
bring Miss Annabelle to America…or to reveal her pseudo
identity. Jake knew she could never lose her freedom again.
Jake was not sure how it would all work out, but he knew he
must proceed. For, he knew he had found his “calling”, his historic
role in bringing humanity into the fully honest civilization.

*

The next morning, Jake drove into Buffalo. He met with a
private investigator. For $1600, he would find the location of
and provide a profile on the other eight members of the class.
While leaving the small office that looked as if it came
directly off a movie set complete with the unshaven, private
investigator in suspenders wrapped tightly over his white shirt,
Jake turned and put his hand to his chin, his eyes not fixed on
any object as if deep in thought.

338

Then he fixed his eyes on
his private investigator and said, “Look in high places for these
eight people.”
“Wait a minute, kid,” the PI said, looking down the list of
eight. “Grab my newspaper, will you?”
“Why?” Jake asked, not sure what he was looking for.
“Just pick it up,” the PI retorted. Jake picked it up and
started to hand it to the PI, but the PI stopped him.
“What’s it say at the very top?”
“Uh…Patterson Press.”
“Yeah, Patterson Press. I think that’s one of your guys —
the owner of Patterson Press. Huge paper group, huge. But
I’ll do a full report to be sure.”
Jake knew about the unique thrust of the daily Patterson
Papers that made them grow into a national powerhouse. The
Patterson Papers, in a daring move, shifted their format from
political coverage to coverage of up-and-coming important
technological progress that people loved to read about, just as
Alan talked about in third grade and actually started with
Breakthrough News!
“Do you know the owner’s name?” Jake asked, swallowing
hard.
“Al Patterson.”
The PI did not notice Jake’s reaction. The owner of Patterson
Press was considered a maverick who was changing the look of
daily print through shifting his readers’ interest from the boring
world of politics to the exciting world of technological progress,
bringing both science and business to the forefront. Jake was
speechless, once again. This now made five great accomplishers
taking their fields of knowledge to the next level. …The story
was just beginning to unfold.
“I’ll track ’em all down and have the report for you by the
end of the month,” the confident PI said. The end of the month
was less than two weeks away. What, oh what, Jake wondered,
will his report reveal?

339

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
————————

Jake had to get back to Boston to register for his classes for
the second semester and to get back to work. During his stay
with Angie and Jessie, they had become lifelong friends and
helped Jake open the door to another life he never knew existed
— the life he was meant to live.
On the drive back to Boston, he smiled over and over in
disbelief at what he had done. He thought about the profundity
of what he was involved in. Here he was barely old enough to
buy beer, and he would be contacting and, hopefully, bringing
together some of the world’s most powerful people. Not only
that, he said to himself shaking his head in disbelief, but I’ll
meet those people and be part of that crowd. I’ll be surrounded
by and communicating with those geniuses!
When he asked himself how this could be happening, he
realized it all started because of spotting a common denominator
— seeing that Ian Scott, Sally Salberg, and Theodore Winters
all attended the same school at about the same time, which led
to the discovery that they all sat in the same classroom together,
taught by the amazing Miss Annabelle.
Jake drove home, watching the scenery go by, daydreaming
how his life would now change. How is it, he asked himself,
that I’m the person who’ll bring those powerful giants together?

340

When he realized he was bringing a powerful value to their lives
by reuniting those soul mates, a rush of pride and happiness filled
him beyond what other twenty-one-year-olds know.
“Life is beautiful,” he sighed.

*

Back at school, everything seemed to move so unbelievably
slow. Jake had not started classes yet, but he pulled out his
books from last semester. After having listened to Miss
Annabelle’s lectures and having witnessed her eight and nineyear-old students leap so dramatically throughout the school year,
his college learning schedule for twenty and twenty-one-year-olds
seemed to move at a snail’s pace. Yet, how could their studies,
he wondered, really move any faster? The college students in
their fourth year were flat out studying each night and on
weekends.
That riddle monopolized his thoughts. What exactly enabled
Miss Annabelle’s class to consume knowledge and cover so much
ground? What was it in her technique that created those
geniuses?
He knew he would find the answer in her book How To Raise
A Genius Through Five-Minute Bedtime Stories. He had ordered
the book through Amazon Books over the Internet the day he
first discovered Miss Annabelle’s alias, and today it had arrived.
Jake felt as if he were opening a lost treasure as he opened
the cover of the book. In essence, he was. And there, in the
first chapter, he understood the clear difference why Miss
Annabelle created geniuses out of little children and why his
college professors merely created knowledgeable young adults.
Her first chapter selected some of history’s great geniuses who
broke through to the next level of thinking. Jake remembered
her lecture the last day of school when she told this to her
students: In many cases, history’s great minds had, while
growing up, a mentor. This mentor did not necessarily teach
the child scholastic lessons of literature, history, writing, math,
and science. Instead, this mentor would, starting at a young age,
talk to the child about life: how and why things were the way
they were.

341

By showing the impressionable young mind broader
thinking patterns, the mentor gave the child so much more than
the knowledge in the lesson itself. The mentor was showing the
child the power of his mind to integrate sensory percepts into
structured concepts and, eventually, to integrate concepts into
growing mental puzzles that would reveal breakthrough puzzlepictures.
In some cases, the mentors routinely used Neothink, such as
Socrates who mentored Plato…Plato who mentored
Aristotle…Aristotle who mentored Alexander the Great. The
child would naturally go into Neothinking himself.
Telling the child broadly integrated stories about life leaves
deep impressions on a child’s early psyche, her book explained.
Those children inevitably start pulling together information as
their method of thinking to take startling leaps in thought beyond
their peers. At first, a parent will think his child is forming
mature thoughts beyond his age. Soon, the parent will realize
the child’s thoughts go well beyond a function of maturity. The
child’s thoughts are a function of creativity, the parent realizes.
Miss Annabelle’s book explained that the child’s creative thoughts
often come from seemingly nowhere — out of thin air — yet
carry a wallop of insight.
Jake realized that Miss Annabelle’s general lectures at the
start of each day were those broadly integrated stories about life,
pulling together raw percepts into potent concepts, and potent
concepts into powerful Neothink puzzles from which new puzzlepictures would form and radiate new knowledge to her students.
Each morning her stories would send warm new knowledge into
their receptive minds.
Miss Annabelle’s book went on to say that, whereas parents
are obviously not mentors like those great scholars throughout
history, ordinary parents can have a similar effect and outcome.
She gave them effective techniques to ignite the new way of
thinking — building Neothink puzzles — in their children’s
minds. She told parents to go outside of normal boundaries, to
talk about unlikely topics for young children — like how asphalt
roads are like little pebbles pressed and held together and that
sidewalks are like sand pressed and held together. By bringing
up unexpected subjects, their young minds learn from the
beginning how to stretch and reach beyond the average child’s
world.

342

She also emphasized that, in these five-minute bedtime stories,
for parents to explain the why, how, and what behind things: what
they are made of, how they work, and why they work that way.
The combination of unusual, unexpected topics with the how,
why, what behind them both expands the child’s mind to broader
thought patterns and starts their minds going down to the essence
of things where the child could best understand them and, later
on, bypass illusions. Over time, as the child absorbs more and
more knowledge at its essence through these five-minute bedtime
stories, he will start to see common denominators and begin to
link together the world around him into growing concepts and,
eventually, growing puzzles.
Whereas the parent himself may not know how to do
Neothinking, the child will rather quickly evolve into that next
level of thinking, for that is the natural way of thinking for very
young children up to the age of six or seven, her book explained,
showing substantial evidence to support her hypothesis. The sign
of the child’s mind making the jump into puzzle-building
Neothink is when he becomes curious and starts asking a lot of
questions about things around him. His mind is searching for
common denominators to snap together or, in more advanced
cases, for puzzle pieces to snap into a growing Neothink puzzle.
Reading Miss Annabelle’s book let Jake understand why her
twelve students covered so much more ground of new knowledge
than he and his peers in college. Her third graders were pulling
together thoughts from every conceivable corner of life as they
snapped together growing puzzles of knowledge in their minds.
“Wow,” Jake said as he put down Miss Annabelle’s book to
think. The idea hit him that, with the widespread simple
techniques in her book, the next generation could be the
civilization of God-Man. What would the world be like, he
wondered, with hundreds of millions of geniuses such as disease-curing research doctors like Sally and cost-vanishing value
producers like Theodore? A world of millionaire wealth and
perfect health for everybody…what a life that would be!
He lay back on his pull-out couch in his dorm room. Down
near the end of the hall, Amad’s party was heating up. Soon,
there was a loud knock on Jake’s door. It was Amad.

343

“Come on, Jake,” Amad said. He sounded like he’d been
drinking for awhile. “Three girls at my room are new this
semester, and they want to meet you!”
Jake liked Amad, his Saudi Arabian friend. Jake had been
really deep into his discovery of Miss Annabelle since New
Year’s day. Although he wanted to finish Miss Annabelle’s
book, he decided to take a break and visit Amad and meet those
mysterious girls. Although Jake was a serious minded young
man, he loved girls.
Jake’s room was next to the lobby on the fourth floor, across
from the elevator. He left with Amad and walked to the end
of the hall where people were coming and going from Amad’s
room, using the stairway just outside Amad’s room at the end
of the hall. Amad led Jake into his crowded party room.
Jake instantly caught the eye of the young women. Jake was
a good-looking and confident guy. His light brown hair and blue
eyes were especially attractive to Middle Eastern gals. Tonight,
though, Jake’s mind was preoccupied with the chapter he had
just read by Miss Annabelle.
His preoccupation with his thoughts made him even more
mysterious and appealing to the ladies. When Amad introduced
him to three attractive young ladies, Jake felt an immediate
attraction for the one in the middle. She had a mature look that
seemed to put a protective layer between her, with her natural
good looks, and the party guys. But that serious aura is what
caught Jake’s attention.
The initial attraction was mutual. She had been watching
Jake since he entered the room. She liked men who were
thinkers.
“Hello,” Jake said to the three young ladies, his eyes settling
on the mature one.
Amad was saying something silly to the three ladies about
“My main white-man, Jake”. Two of them were giggling.
“Hi. I’m Jasmine,” the mature one in the middle said,
holding Jake’s eye contact as she put out her hand to shake his.
As Jake introduced himself, his mind visually absorbed her. She
was very slender with long, sleek curves. She must have been
no taller than five foot one, but her long features made her look
taller. Lots of noise and activity surrounded them, but they heard
and saw only each other.

344

“What’s your major?” she asked.
“Economics,” Jake said. He had always dreamed of being
very successful in business, but as he answered this beautiful
woman, he wondered for the first time where his education stood
with his goal. He was discovering a path he knew he must travel
— a path he knew would lead to the life he was meant to live.
Does an economics degree fit into that journey?
“Are you still with me?” the lovely Jasmine said, smiling
beautifully.
“Oh, I’m sorry…my mind’s really been preoccupied lately,”
Jake said, realizing with some embarrassment that he started
wrestling with thoughts in the middle of meeting Jasmine.
“What’s your major?”
“English literature and journalism,” she said. “And the
journalist part of me is just a little curious about those serious
thoughts I’m competing with.”
Jake looked at her and laughed. She was a beautiful sloeeyed Middle Eastern girl. He knew that his array of thoughts
would bore most college girls, especially those he met at parties.
But this beauty was asking, and she seemed to perk up when
he said, “Oh, well, it’s a long story.”
“I’d love to hear your story,” she said, standing up straight
from the wall she was leaning against.
Her gesture, her serious interest in his goal, really attracted
him to her. “I’ll tell you if you’ll tell me your story of why
you’re getting into journalism,” Jake offered.
“Well, you’d be the first,” she said, not hiding her attraction
for him.
“I’d like that. Have you had dinner, yet?” Jake felt a little
nervous about officially asking her out.
“I know the perfect place,” Jasmine said. A shy smile
escaped from her lips.
Amad spotted Jake and Jasmine leaving the party. “What’s
this?” he said in his Saudi Arabian accent. “No, don’t tell
me…yes, it’s true…I see that glow…I see that glow in your eyes.
It’s got to be love!”
Jake and Jasmine laughed. Amad was funny and disarming,
and…down deep…they hoped he was right.

345

“What a quaint little place,” Jake said facetiously as they
squeezed into the corner cafe and pub. It was packed with
college kids, back from the holidays and in the cafes at night,
socializing with old friends and meeting new ones just before
the new semester. It was a crowded, cozy place full of warmth
and spirits. The windows were covered with a thick layer of
condensation, adding to the toasty aura inside.
Jake led Jasmine through the crowded bar — and through a
chorus of greetings, hugs, and handshakes from his friends —
toward a small empty table in the corner. Jasmine was surprised
by how many people knew Jake. She knew that a number of
them wanted to talk with him but gave him his space because
they did not know his date.
Jake and Jasmine made it to the corner table before anyone
else and sat down.
“How do you know all those people?” Jasmine asked.
“Oh, you’ll know ’em too within a month.”
“Oh yeah?” She gave him a peculiar smile. “I’m a
sophomore here, you know.”
“You transferred?” Jake asked.
“No. I’ve been attending here for a year and a half.”
“Really! Why haven’t I seen you before?”
“I don’t go out much,” Jasmine said, not sure whether to be
a little ashamed or a little proud. “I’m usually too busy
studying…or too picky.”
“Too picky? But you’re out with me.”
Jasmine blushed. “You got me really curious back there, you
know. What is it that’s got your mind so preoccupied?”
“Not so fast,” Jake said playfully. “We had a deal, remember?
What made you want to become a journalist?”
Jasmine looked intensely at Jake, searching his eyes, deciding
if she could trust him. Within his eyes, she saw strength and
compassion, qualities she could trust.
“By the way,” Jake said, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m
minoring in journalism, and we haven’t had a class together yet.
But I plan to fix that problem this semester.” He smiled.
She smiled back. The thought of taking a class with him
pleased her.

346

“Tell me why you picked journalism,” Jake said, seriously.
She decided to trust him and tell him something very
personal.
“I got into journalism for what I believe is the opposite reason
than most,” Jasmine began. She noticed she felt comfortable
telling Jake her secret. “When I was a little girl, my dad was
like Hercules — so big, strong, confident, successful. He was
a developer, always building his next small empire a little bigger
than he’d ever done before. He was a proud and happy man.
“One night when I was about 10 years old, I woke up and
walked downstairs because I thought I heard him. There he was,
crying like a little boy. I didn’t know what to do, but I wanted
to help him. I brought him a tissue and hugged him. He didn’t
want anyone to see him like that, but at least he knew I loved
him with all my soul.
“That month, we moved out of our beautiful custom home
into a small tract home, and I left my private school for public
school. The change didn’t in itself bother me in the least. But
what did bother me was how my dad didn’t laugh anymore. He
didn’t walk around like a proud man anymore. I didn’t
understand it then, but his spirit was broken.”
Jake listened. What had happened to her father? “Did he
ever get his spirit back?” he asked.
Jasmine dropped her eyes and said, “No. I always hoped to
see his pride and happiness return, but it never did. …I
remember looking across at him at the dinner table. When his
eyes met mine, I’d smile, hoping to see that infectious happiness
erupt again in his smile. He’d always smile back, but it was
empty — a shell of what once filled that man.”
Jasmine stopped talking and looked down, sad, shaking her
head, sighing. Jake hung on her every word, watching her every
breath. He noticed her pained expression relax a little; then she
smiled and said, “There was one time every year, though, I’d
see pure happiness in his eyes. Every year on my birthday, he’d
take me camping.” Jasmine took a deep breath and tilted her
head back, smiling, remembering. “Oh, I’d lie in the tent with
daddy at night, making little animal shadows on the side of the
tent, laughing, talking.

347

When it got late, I’d tell him I didn’t
want to turn off the lights yet because I didn’t want that day to
ever end. So, he’d keep the lights on till we could barely keep
our eyes open. He’d tell me stories, we’d tell jokes, we’d visit,
we’d talk until we were falling asleep. I’d see that happiness
in his eyes, and although I never told him, that’s why I didn’t
want the day to ever end. When I was falling asleep, he’d
always softly sing Happy Birthday To You, like it was a lullaby.
Then, he’d kiss me and say, ‘Being with you is beautiful.’ That
was always the last thing I’d hear before falling asleep. I could
feel in his voice that his soul was, at that moment, happy and
at peace.”
She stopped talking and frowned. Reluctantly, as though she
did not want her memory of the camping trips to end yet, she
continued:
“Years later I learned what had extinguished his spirit. I
stumbled upon it while doing a report for high school. My father
had invested every dime of his life savings to go for yet the
next level in his self-made growing empire. He invested every
dime he had into developing a beautiful shopping mall.
“The local media wrote inflammatory articles that stirred up
environmental activists, neighborhood protesters, and zoning
officials. The media wouldn’t let up. Some journalists decided
they’d make heroes out of themselves by ‘rescuing society from
this business scrooge who would destroy their planet and their
neighborhoods.’
“The momentum against my father got out of hand because
of the dishonest media attacks until finally, after he invested
every dime he had, he couldn’t do anything more. Because of
the bad publicity, the big retailers stayed out of his mall. He
drowned in a tidal wave of manufactured envy.”
Jasmine stopped herself from saying any more, before she lost
her composure.
“I’m so sorry,” Jake said. During his four-week journey
discovering Miss Annabelle, his emotions had matured and
expanded, and he really felt sympathy from his heart for
Jasmine’s father. Jake had learned a lot about values, effort,
and justice. Jasmine’s father risked everything and put out a
lot of effort to build beautiful values for society. But, in the
end, that same society turned on him and destroyed him.

348

It genuinely bothered Jake that her father was a victim of
manufactured envy and ego-justice.
“I’m sorry for asking this: is your father still living?” Jake
did not know why he asked that from a college-age girl, but felt
compelled to know. Jake hoped her father was alive and well,
because Jake felt as if justice needed to and might still be served.
“Yes,” Jasmine said, a little surprised. “Oh…I’d just curl
up and die if anything happened to him.”
Jasmine felt vulnerable. Yet, she could feel Jake’s genuine
pain for her father, and she asked him, “I saw relief in your eyes
that my father is still living. Why?”
“Maybe you really can understand what I’ve discovered these
past few weeks,” Jake said, realizing that Jasmine was coming
from a different world than other young women he’d met.
Jasmine lived in a world searching for justice.
“Jasmine, you’re becoming a journalist to make things right
out there, aren’t you?”
“Yes…you’re the first person who understands me.” Jasmine
felt her emotions swept up into Jake’s warm eyes. “I want to
help wonderful people like my dad, not punish them. I want
to show the world what good exists in them and the beauty in
what they create.”
“Where can you be a journalist like that?” Jake asked. He
swallowed in anticipation.
“There’s only one group of papers I’d ever write for. It’s
the Patterson Group. The owner, Al Patterson, is my hero.”
Jake swallowed again, then said, “Now, I must tell you my
story…”
Jasmine cried and laughed as she listened to Jake’s story. She
was overwhelmed. Her hero was one of the students of Jake’s
Miss Annabelle. Jasmine also sensed her father belonged with
this unique group of people. Maybe his internal light could glow
again.

349

III.
Reunion

————————
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
————————

Jake’s sixteen-hundred-dollar investment in the PI from
Buffalo paid off. He was competent at his job. Two days before
schedule, Jake pulled from his mailbox the report on the “other
eight” students. He rushed to his room and opened the PI’s
report.
The first of the ‘other eight’, Jake already knew about: Al
Patterson owned a chain of twenty-eight daily papers and a cable
TV station under the Patterson Media Group. Each daily paper
was called the Patterson Press. The chain of daily papers was
referred to as the Patterson Papers. He said he wanted to be in
fifty markets within the next five years.
The Patterson Papers was the fastest growing chain of daily
papers in the country. It was based on a new concept of seeking
out and tracking the development of new values, especially new
technologies, that would dramatically benefit the general
population. His papers would follow the development of a new
technology, covering its progress, sharing the hopes, the visions,
the obstacles, the victories…reporting with the passion of an
exciting television drama. People started to turn to that section
first, before sports or political news, because that section directly
notified the reader of exciting, upcoming values and technologies
that would benefit him.

353

This section called New Technologies
and Other Values was stimulating and became addicting to read.
Developers of new technologies cooperated with an open-arm
policy to intense reporting, for Patterson’s coverage built a large
following and a ready market for the new technology.
The shift in format happened gradually. Over the years, he
learned his New Technologies and Other Values section became
more widely read than the political news on the front page. So,
the Patterson Papers gradually blended new-value news into the
front page along with other newsworthy items and gradually
moved political news off the front page, back to a Political News
section of its own. Now, the only political news that Al
Patterson allowed on the front page was the rise of Daniel Ward,
for Patterson Group viewed Daniel Ward’s platform of ending
government regulations, to free the country’s businesses and
entrepreneurial geniuses, as the catalyst to bringing us spectacular
new values. Daniel referred to his campaign for president as
the launching pad for a new political party he named the Twelve
Visions Party. The Patterson Group picked up on that name and
started referring to Daniel’s Twelve-Visions World as “a world
of soaring standards of living after Daniel gets elected and frees
businesses and entrepreneurial geniuses”. Al Patterson’s papers
extrapolated the image of that Twelve-Visions World, an
attractive image more and more people began to believe in.
In every market his Patterson Press appeared, he would
steadily take more and more of the market share from the
traditional daily paper. In every market entered thus far, the
traditional daily paper eventually sold out to the Patterson Media
Group. The Patterson Media Group was currently planning to
enter eight new markets.
That plan for expansion ended the first page of the PI’s report
and the description of Al Patterson’s empire. Jake could not wait
to turn through the rest of the pages in the PI’s report. What
became of Miss Annabelle’s other seven students? Jake hopped
off the couch and locked the door of his small dorm room. This
way, he would not answer his door if one of his fraternity
brothers stopped by. He sat at the desk built into the wall and
turned the page to reveal…Reggie Tucker.
“I didn’t know that!” Jake said out loud as he read the first
line of the page: Reggie Tucker, Grassroots Charts, Inc., CEO,
owner.

354

Grassroots Charts was the six-year-old national cable station
that took America by storm, spanking the other music stations
in the ratings. Moreover, the Grassroots Charts’ 24-hour show
pulled ratings not only from the music cable stations, but from
the radio stations as well. Teenagers at home, it was discovered,
preferred leaving Grassroots Charts on instead of their radios.
Grassroots Charts began as a novel idea, destined to success
from the beginning. Grassroots Charts took the power of
selecting musical tastes out of the hands of the industry-elite
power brokers and put it in the hands of the people. That shift
in power not only appealed to the viewing audience, but
multiplied the entertainment value beyond anything seen before
in the music industry, for the depth of quality and breadth of
variety exploded with the new phenomenon.
Here’s how Grassroots Charts worked: Local musicians,
singers, bands of any type from around the country were
encouraged to send in a complete 40-minute CD of their own
original music, which could include some creatively done
remakes. Reggie had learned as a teenager that there were
thousands upon thousands of exceptional bands and singers that
the people never heard because the elite few power brokers in
the recording industry selected only a handful of artists to market.
Logistics, not quality, kept brilliant and entertaining values from
the people.
Reggie made a Neothink breakthrough that changed the way
the music industry had always been run. His company received
hundreds of CDs a month by small-time but serious musicians
and bands. A local band serious enough to produce a CD was
a good sorting mechanism. With its 24-hour format, Grassroots
Charts actually aired over half of the bands that sent in CDs.
It truly was a grass roots dynamic.
The bands chosen to go on the air (actually, televised via
cable) were notified and asked to send in a homemade video of
the band performing. They would, of course, send in their very
best performance. The video was introduced between midnight
and seven in the morning. Up to a hundred new groups could
be introduced during this time. Each new group or artist would
be scored…by the viewing audience.

355

Now, here was the genius
behind Reggie’s concept: the score was, simply, how many CDs
were sold.
His station functioned sort of like a hybrid of MTV and the
Home Shopping Network…with the stimulating tension of those
live COPS type shows. He would televise the videos shot on
location, jumping from back-street clubs to high society…from
swank to sleaze. On the left bottom side of the screen was a
telephone number to call and order the CD and a live tally of
how many sold — the score. Next to that live tally of number
sold on the bottom left side of the screen was another small box
with a live tally of the number sold of the previous video. (90%
of orders came in within four minutes after the televised video.)
The viewing audience enjoyed this relentless competition and
became familiar with the records set and the exciting
consequences when a new band broke the existing record (usually
meant million-dollar recording deals).
The viewing audience from midnight to 7:00 a.m. loved the
feeling of “going into” uncensored nightlife scenes. Many people
watched late-night Grassroots just for that purpose: to “visit” the
sometimes “dangerous” nightlife scenes. Between midnight and
seven in the morning, all CDs sold for the bargain introductory
price of $6.95. If fifty or more sold, that video was guaranteed
to stay on the next night and the next, as long as the score stayed
at fifty or more.
Those videos with the highest scores for the week moved on
to rotation in the better time slot between 7:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Grassroots Charts would send their recording crew to
professionally video those winners of the week from the
introductory time slot. Grassroots produced a professional quality
video for the more prominent daytime slot.
At this new time slot, a score of 200 — that meant 200 CDs
sold — guaranteed continuing airing the next night as long as
sales stayed above 200. During that time slot, the selling price
of the same CD jumped to $9.95. The increasing cost of the
CDs toward a retail store’s price as the airing time improved
actually kept a solid viewing audience tuned into the introductory
time slot between midnight and 7:00 am, for those were the
increasing number of bargain hunters. Those bargain hunters
made the whole system work.

356

Reggie learned early on that his company would manufacture
and store the CDs. He developed a formula that gave him a
good idea of how many CDs would sell based on the introductory
results. By producing all the CDs himself, his huge quantity
got the price down to rock bottom costs, even if manufacturing
only a couple hundred of any one artist.
Grassroots Charts kept the revenues of sales and paid the
artists a 10% royalty for each CD sold. Of course, by far the
greatest value to the artists was the opportunity at national
exposure. In fact, a metamorphosis occurred in the music
industry over the six years Grassroots Charts entered the music
scene. The major retail stores were filling their shelves with
the top artists on the Grassroots Charts.
It was inevitable that the big retail stores stopped listening
to the elite power brokers from the record labels and started
listening to the people — the voters for the Grassroots Charts.
It was inevitable because the leading artists on Grassroots Charts
were already demonstrated in the marketplace as the best sellers.
The retail stores’ improved net profits using this indicator — the
leading Grassroots artists — broke down the control of the elite
few power brokers in the music industry and put the control in
the hands of the consumers and the artists.
That meant: doing well and moving up to the prime time
rotation from 4:00 p.m. to midnight on Grassroots Charts could
put an artist in the big leagues. Doing among the best of the
artists on Grassroots Charts would attract lucrative, multi-million-dollar record deals with the established record labels. Artists
who would have never reached the ears of a music power broker
could now get their shot at marketability by recording a CD and
sending it to Grassroots Charts. Nearly every artist would get
a fair shot at the marketplace. If his or her musical creation
was marketable — a value to the people — it would rise to the
next level. If his or her musical creation was marketable at that
next level to a broader viewing audience, it would rise to the
prime-time audience.
At prime time, the CD would sell for $12.95. As long as it
scored/sold 500, it would be guaranteed to run the next night.
In some cases, an extremely marketable group or solo act could
have a run of several weeks in prime time, which guaranteed
the artists would become multimillionaires with a major record
label.

357

The major record labels also benefited from Grassroots Charts,
because it took the risk out of signing artists. Those artists, by
way of Grassroots Charts, already demonstrated their
marketability. That demonstration enabled the record labels to
aggressively, without risks, market their newly signed artists.
The most talented and marketable artists, as determined by
the marketplace, aired during prime time, creating the best
musical entertainment on television. Grassroots Charts not only
offered the most creative and quality entertainment in America,
but also the greatest variety with artists in so many different
settings. The viewer never got bored as Grassroots Charts took
the viewer into backstreet clubs all across the country for unique
and fresh entertainment. For his advertisers, Reggie Tucker even
took numerous polls that demonstrated the viewer never felt bored
watching his station.
The PI’s report on Reggie ended by saying that Grassroots
Charts announced it will launch its own record label that “will
sign and market its own star artists instead of giving them away
to the record labels that once made it impossible for the majority
of artists to succeed.” …Reggie Tucker, a black child from a
poor family, now sitting on top of the world…wow, Jake
thought…thank you, Miss Annabelle, for giving these kids the
keys to Neothink.
Who, Jake wondered, is on the next page of this report?
What surprise am I in for next? He flipped the page and read:
Rico Rodriguez, Rico Steaks, President and Owner. Ah,
yes…Rico, Jake remembered, the shy Mexican boy from a family
line of criminals. He owned Rico Steaks, the largest consumer-direct steak retailer in the East with outlets all along the East
Coast. Also, three years ago, Rico expanded nationally, selling
his steaks through direct mail, and in that time, he was already
the third largest mail-order steak retailer in the country.
What, Jake wondered, was his breakthrough? Jake had seen
a trend in Miss Annabelle’s students: They rose to the top
because of breaking through to the next level at something. But
on the private investigator’s well-done and thorough report, there
was nothing that indicated a specific breakthrough about Rico
Steaks.

358

Jake could not wait to find out, because he knew Rico had
done something different than had ever been done before. So,
Jake impulsively picked up the phone and called Rico Steaks.
He was surprised when he asked to speak to Rico Rodriguez,
and the receptionist said, “Just one moment, please.”
Jake almost hung up. Where, he wondered, would I begin?
How do I start my questions? He realized he really needed to
prepare for this call.
“This is Rico.” It was such a deep and friendly voice, which
helped Jake’s frozen mind to thaw out a little.
“Oh, yes sir,” Jake stammered.
“How can I help you?” Rico asked.
It was so strange to hear this mature man after having heard
Rico’s high, prepubescent voice on the lecture tapes. Jake felt
as though he had gone through a time warp into the future. Just
the other day he was listening to this person who was then a
little boy less than half of Jake’s age and now that little boy
was Jake’s senior, nearly twice his age.
“Rico…I mean, Mr. Rodriguez, my name is Jake Catchings.
I’m calling from Boston. I’m doing a report for college, and I
wanted to ask you if you could shed some light on your
company’s success.” Jake realized he could have kept the bigger
picture from Rico for now, for Rico was genuinely glad to help
ambitious students toward a successful future. But as Rico
started revealing the breakthrough Jake was looking for, he knew
he would go ahead during this phone call and tell Rico the whole
story.
“My success story is a story about my workers, son,” Rico
answered. “I did something no one else would have dared. Two
out of every three people who work for Rico Steaks are ex-cons.”
Rico paused, expecting a knee-jerk reaction of surprise out
of Jake. But Rico did not know that Jake knew all about his
roots. When Rico heard no reaction, he went on to tell Jake
about his breakthrough, “I’ve become quite famous in these parts
for hiring ex-cons for high wages. My secret is that I hire ex-cons of political-policy crimes and NOT objective crimes of force
and fraud. So-called criminals of laws of some politician’s claim
to fame are not really criminals.

359

Instead, they’re innocent people
caught in the illusion of that politician’s rise to power…their lives
used and stepped on for his ladder to the top of politics. Those
decent people who should’ve never gone to prison have a hard
time getting good jobs with good pay when they get out. So,
when I hire them and pay them nearly twice the industry norm,
they become highly motivated, loyal, and protective. I have the
highest morale and productivity in my industry, anywhere in the
country. …Now, other companies throughout other industries are
looking into my unique personnel program.”
“Your breakthrough in business came through personnel?”
Jake asked, suddenly realizing breakthroughs in business are not
limited to product, marketing, or operations.
“That’s right, son,” Rico said. And, as if reading Jake’s
mind, he added, “My business is labor intensive. A breakthrough
in my workers’ productivity can be as effective as a breakthrough
in marketing.”
Jake sat at his little desk and stared at the PI’s report, opened
to the page about Rico Rodriguez. These people live at a
different level than everyone else, Jake thought. He wanted to
talk to this benevolent man on the phone about all this. Jake
had no preparation but felt he wanted to open up.
“Sir, can you remember your childhood?” Jake asked.
“Yes, sure I can. …Why?”
“I know a time in your past, when you were just eight or
nine years old,” Jake said. Rico was surprised. How does this
young man know about that?
“You know about my past?” he asked.
“Mr. Rodriguez, can you remember when you were eight
years old…can you remember when you went to third grade?”
Still confused, Rico said, “Can you refresh my memory?”
“Can you remember Ian? Or how about Teddy…or
Danny…or how about Sally and her mom who had cancer?”
“Oh yes, I remember Sally…that was so sad about her
mother,” Rico answered. He was really curious now.
“Tell me, Mr. Rodriguez, if you can remember…” suddenly
Jake’s heart started pounding, “…your third-grade teacher…Miss
Annabelle?”
A deafening silence followed. Did he, Jake wondered, forget?
How could he forget?

360

Jake’s heart kept pounding as sadness
started to overcome him with each passing unanswered moment.
How could Rico forget?
“I loved that woman.” Rico’s deep voice broke the silence.
The depth of emotion in Rico’s voice made Jake’s eyes flood
with tears. He could not talk for the moment.
“Son, do you know what happened to Miss Annabelle?” Just
to hear Rico say her name again sounded beautiful to Jake. She
lived in her students’ thoughts!
“Yes, I do,” Jake’s voice cracked at realizing the impact Miss
Annabelle still had on her students. With his voice shaking and
cracking, Jake continued, “I’ve spent the past month making the
most amazing discovery of my life. It’s about Miss Annabelle
and her students during your year together in the third grade.”
“Jake, where are you calling from?”
“I’m at Boston University.”
“I want to fly you down here to Philadelphia. I loved that
woman, and I still do. I owe her my life. I want to know
everything you know. I want to talk to you here, in person.
Will you come?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Okay, Jake, I’m going to put you through to my secretary.
She’ll make all the arrangements. I can’t wait to talk to you,
son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
That confident, successful voice was replaced by the soothing
sound of a competent executive secretary. She asked Jake if he
could come to Philadelphia that weekend. When he said he
could, she asked him if he would be accompanied by someone.
He smiled and surprised himself as he said he most likely would
have someone with him. She told him she would call him back
within the half hour with the travel arrangements, thanked him,
and said good-bye.
Jake sat at his desk in stunned silence, moved by Rico’s
reaction. Miss Annabelle’s students still loved her as they did
on the day she left! Jake felt a rewarding sense of justice as
he knew something big was starting to happen. He also felt very
proud that he was the one making it happen. He wanted to share
his excitement with Angie and Jessie, but the report staring at
him on the desk before him pulled him back to it, reigniting his
unbearable curiosity.

361

Talking to Rico had flooded his veins with
adrenaline, and he was ready to spend hours with this sacred
report that fast forwarded Miss Annabelle’s students ahead
twenty-seven years. What surprise awaited on the next page?
Unbelievable. Nattie was the Natasha Kemp, producer and
host of a nationally syndicated radio talk show. Jasmine, in
particular, often listened to the Natasha Kemp Show while driving
in her car. Jake started to recall the times he listened to Natasha
while in the car with Jasmine, recalling how the radio personality
so stunningly fixed relationships right over the radio airwaves
through a powerful blend of applying deep, consistent principles
to surface, ever changing pragmatisms. Recalling her shocking
effectiveness, Jake looked down at the report, eager to read more.
But, he stopped himself; before Jake could read more, he
closed the PI’s report.
“I’m getting value overload,” he muttered to himself. He was
burning with curiosity, but he knew he was still hearing in his
head his call with Rico while, at the same time, trying to read
about Natasha. …Each student now had such profound
accomplishments that he realized he could absorb only two or
three pages of the PI’s report at a time.
Tomorrow, Friday, classes would start for the spring semester.
He had an early class. Tomorrow afternoon he’d fly to
Philadelphia. He’d be up too late if he continued the report.
He put it in his suitcase to bring with him on his flight south.

*

A soft smooth hand slipped its way into his hand as the
forward thrust of the plane pulled Jake back in his seat. Jake
looked over at Jasmine and smiled reassuringly while squeezing
her hand. She had always been a little afraid of flying, but when
Jake asked her to go with him to Philadelphia, she was too
excited to decline. Besides, she knew she had to overcome her
mild phobia if she was to become a journalist.
After reading some of Jasmine’s work, Jake had asked her
to co-author the article about Miss Annabelle and her students.
Jasmine was a skilled writer. She was a real pro who trained
hours each day researching and writing on very involved subjects.

362

Moreover, unlike anyone else, she understood at all levels what
was being discovered here about Miss Annabelle, her husband,
her students, and man’s next mentality.
Jake pulled the PI’s report out of his carry-on luggage and
put the report on his lap. He also had a copy of the report in
his hand and gave it to Jasmine.
“Here’s what her students are doing now,” he said. “You’ll
be amazed.” Jasmine started reading the first page, which told
the story of her media hero, Al Patterson.
Jake opened his report to the fifth page, back to Natasha
Stokov Kemp. She produced and hosted the unique, nationally
syndicated three-hour morning radio show on happiness and love.
She also developed her techniques into a workshop and personally
trained qualified representatives to deliver those workshops across
the country. The techniques in her workshop and advice on the
air were uniquely focused on generating happiness first to open
the door for lasting romantic love. She specialized in existing
marriages, emphasizing that the initial attraction and chemistry
pulled the couple together, but the lack of happiness eventually
smothered the flame. Once she put them on the path to
happiness, the flame returned.
Natasha demonstrated through real-life situations, live on her
radio show, over and over again, that lasting happiness fulfills
people who are motivated and have a passion inside for their
life’s work. Because of a woman’s biological nature, Natasha
identified, a woman can get that motivation and passion inside
from her life’s work and/or from her husband’s work by
contributing to his life’s work, which might include making his
life more efficient through a well-run home and dedicated child
rearing. People who were motivated and passionate about their
life’s work, Natasha demonstrated to her twenty million listeners,
advanced beyond their routine ruts into exciting, creative careers.
Those people discovered lasting happiness. And lasting happiness
opened the floodgates to lasting romantic love.
On her radio show, she would take calls mostly from married
couples with husband and wife both on the telephone. She would
spend up to fifteen minutes per couple, helping them identify
their deepest motivational roots, placing them on the path they
were meant to travel in life, even as a hobby initially.

363

Soon, she would tell them, they would become the persons they were meant to be and become filled with a lasting happiness. Once
they became filled with happiness, she proved over and over,
they’ll want to celebrate their happiness and will turn to their
spouses. The flame will reignite and burn brightly again. This
time, it won’t flicker out because the permanent happiness inside
wants to always celebrate with one’s loved one.
Lack of happiness blew out the flame, she told her daily
audience. If she could not clearly get the couple on the path
to happiness during the phone call, she would give them a free
comp to the next Natasha Workshop in their area.
The workshop was a three-day, hands-on experience with
spectacular results. It cost couples two-thousand dollars to attend
the famous workshops.
Couples were often a bit surprised the first day because the
workshop was so unlike any other marriage retreat. Natasha’s
workshop had none of those emotional feel-good exercises
designed to bring out the tears and temporarily whip up emotions
into a romantic euphoria. Natasha knew such techniques worked
only temporarily, just long enough to justify the pricey retreats.
Her workshop was well known among marriage counselors
for its permanent results. And if not for those well-known
results, many couples would have sunk into skeptics after the
first day. Right from the beginning, it seemed to couples that
perhaps they were attending the wrong workshop. The word
“love” did not even come up until mid-morning the second day.
There were no feel-good exercises to do with love. But Natasha
wanted it that way, for she knew the cause-and-effect order to
happiness and love. And her method worked.
The entire first day of the Natasha Workshops focussed on
each individual making a unique, internal discovery. Each person
was put through a series of tests to discover his deepest
motivation in life: what if he could do anything he wanted —
something active and productive, not passive entertainment such
as watching TV, or watching a movie, or watching sports — what
would it be? What does that person naturally enjoy so much
that he or she would elect to pursue it in place of his or her
typical entertainment, night out, or weekend activity?

364

Like so many self-improvement seminars, Natasha stated that
the obvious key to success was devotion and drive to a particular
career or interest. But, unlike those self-improvement seminars,
she explained from years of observation that devotion and drive
never lasted…unless it truly grew from one’s deepest motivation
in life. To find that deepest motivation unique to each individual
was the breakthrough, she emphasized. For instance, Natasha’s
deepest motivation was psychology. She would gladly read an
interesting book about psychology on Friday night rather than
seeing a movie. Or, after going to dinner with her husband, she
would much rather get to a book on psychology than watch TV.
She could easily spend her evenings and weekends learning about
and working on her interest. In fact, that was how her weekend
workshops got started in the first place. Although she would
take time out to do other things, she had to tear herself away
from her deepest motivation in life to do other things. The
motivation and energy her life’s work generated, naturally pulled
her back to her work all the time. How lucky I am, she thought,
to be doing what truly motivates me. In her workshop, she got
others to discover their deepest motivation inside.
She learned that once a person discovered his or her deepest
motivation, the door opened to the life he or she was meant to
live…a life that would eventually evolve from the typical routine
rut to an exciting, creative career. All the rules of discipline
and effort still applied, but without one’s deepest motivation
working for him, his door to major success remained closed; his
work remained a chore and a boring trap. Happiness would
wane, and the flame that first lit up the marriage would flicker
out.
Natasha discovered that most people never knew about their
deepest motivation. So they could not naturally summon the
physical and mental energy needed to rise into the exciting realms
of creative success and lasting romantic love. Discovering one’s
deepest motivation equipped a person with an endless source of
energy, which opened the way to exciting value creation,
happiness, and love.
To discover one’s deepest motivation in life, her workshop
would have each person look for clues, such as a particular
subject he or she tended to read about or was always drawn to.

365

No matter how impractical it would seem to pursue one’s interest,
that was beside the point. For, once one discovered that deepest
motivational root, then Natasha would have that person start
pursuing it as a hobby to give that root some nourishment and
a chance to grow. She told each attendee to always wonder in
the back of his or her mind: can I make this hobby a commercial
endeavor or the source of my livelihood someday? For, when
one’s livelihood is his deepest motivational drive, she explained,
then he has achieved his ambition in life. That person, she
proved over and over again, enjoyed lasting happiness and
romantic love. Natasha’s workshop consisted of breakthrough
Neothink techniques that resulted in a staggering percentage of
its attendees discovering, eventually pursuing, and going on to
experience spectacular success financially and emotionally. Her
unique techniques actually flipped the very reason a person almost
never recognized, no less pursued, his or her deepest motivation:
impracticality because he or she could not make a living from
it. Her techniques flipped that around so that recognizing and
then pursuing one’s deepest motivation became very practical as
his or her unique path to wealth and success in the top 1%.
In her workshops, Natasha learned that perhaps the most
universal common denominator among people was a deep desire
for a better life. It was also their least understood feeling,
especially once they suppressed their desire through a sense of
resignation. She noticed that suppressed desire for a better life
usually manifested itself in a strong religious belief for a better
life in the hereafter.
Natasha studied many people over several years. She
discovered that their suppressed hope was first reawakened and
then fulfilled once they found and pursued their deepest
motivation.
People suppressed hope for a better life — for the life they
were meant to have. Their deepest motivation pointed them to
that life they were meant to live. Once they pursued their
deepest motivation — their essence…the person they were meant
to be — they no longer needed suppressed hope.
So her workshops took unhappy people — including those
suffering from camouflaged unhappiness — and helped them get
on the path of the life they were meant to live.

366

Those who pursued their deepest motivation became happy people who, lo and behold, fell back in love with their spouses! They stopped subconsciously living for the afterlife and instead started living to get the most out of life, each and every precious day.

*

A jolt shut off Jake’s conscious realm like a switch and
turned on the world of sensory perceptions around him. The
plane skipped twice on the runway. He looked at Jasmine who
had also been absorbed in the PI’s report the entire flight and
had the same disoriented look on her face. …Now, they were
about to meet Rico.
“Let the adventure begin,” he said as the plane headed for
the gate.

367

————————
Chapter
Thirty
————————

Inside the airport, Jasmine spotted a well-dressed chauffeur
holding up a sign that read “Jake Catchings”. Jake and Jasmine
each carried a medium sized carry-on suitcase; they were staying
just the weekend.
They bypassed the luggage area and went straight through the
airport and out the front. There, still running at the curb, was
the limo. Inside the temperature was toasty. Jake notice the
temperature control for the back seat was at seventy-two degrees.
He took his coat off and stretched his legs out as if his body
was saying, “It doesn’t get any better than this!”
Jasmine snuggled up against Jake. They were going to meet
someone who would become part of their new world, a world
different from anything they had ever known before. They both
felt a range of feelings stirring inside — a mixture of excitement,
nervousness, strength.
Philadelphia was drab, but after fifteen minutes, they were
surrounded by beautiful countryside. Another five minutes and
the limo turned off the country road onto what appeared to be
a little well-kept road lined with trees. After a thirty-degree turn
in the road, Jake and Jasmine both leaned forward and looked
ahead in awe. Suddenly appearing before them was a mansion
so massive that the large mature trees around it looked like
smaller, young trees.

368

The Danish design was made of brick and
layered sheet rocks. Several “A” shaped peaks, each the size
of a large custom home, rose across the front of the mansion.
As the visitors got closer, their senses shifted from the massive
size to the rich detail. Beige-tan-and-brown sheet rocks rose from
the ground, beautifully staggered with sections of deep red bricks
in an almost artistic, interlacing design. Neither Jake nor Jasmine
had ever seen anything like it. When coming closer still, their
senses refocused from the beautifully built house to the resortlike grounds and gardens that surrounded them and made them
feel as though they were visiting royalty in England, forgetting
they were just a few minutes outside of Philadelphia.
“You’ll stay here, at Mr. Rodriguez’s home,” the driver said,
smiling at the college kids’ reaction.
“Wow,” Jasmine said in a whisper. She was wondering how
many rooms were in that edifice.
The driver pulled under the porte-cochere at the front doors.
One of the doors pulled back, and a friendly-looking woman in
uniform stood in the doorway to greet them.
The chauffeur got out and opened the car door for Jake and
Jasmine. “I’ll be here whenever you need me,” he said as Jake
and Jasmine got out of the car. Then he took Jake and Jasmine’s
suitcases and walked inside.
“Guest Room Twelve”, the friendly woman said; then she
turned to Jake and Jasmine. “I’m sorry, would you like two
rooms?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jasmine said. She was a
conservative girl who had only one boyfriend before she met
Jake. But she was also a person who knew what she wanted,
and she knew she wanted Jake. They had been together once,
but her decisive choice to stay together in one room made him
feel really good. He was falling in love with her, too.
“Wonderful,” the friendly lady said. “Welcome to Mr.
Rodriguez’s home. My name is Mrs. Green; please ask me for
anything you might need. …Did you have dinner yet?”
“No, we’re starving,” Jake said while walking up the steps
and looking inside. His eyes darted around the huge foyer, not
so much admiring the mansion as he was hoping to see its owner.
“Perfect!” Mrs. Green said as if solving a little scheduling
mystery.

369

“Mr. Rodriguez will be home in about twenty minutes,
and you’ll have dinner with him.”
Jake and Jasmine followed Mrs. Green through a plush
hallway lined with watercolors to Guest Room Twelve. I bet
those are expensive paintings, Jake thought, feeling a little
ashamed that he would not recognize famous art. Inside, Jake
and Jasmine felt as if they had checked into a luxury suite.
What a change from that dump Rico grew up in, Jake
thought, remembering what Angie had told him about Miss
Annabelle’s visit to Rico’s childhood home. Jake realized Rico’s
home was manifestation of the power of the Neothink mind.
Since stepping inside Rico’s mansion, Jake’s and Jasmine’s
senses worked overtime as they observed and absorbed. The
ceilings were twice as high as any home they had seen before;
the rooms were at least twice as big. Jake particularly noticed
the art…beautiful, classical art. Special lighting illuminated the
paintings and gave the walls a colorful glow. Expensive
millwork, woods, rich golden velvets and leathers spread
throughtout the ceilings, walls, draperies, and furnishings.
“It’s so beautiful and elegant in here,” Jasmine said, “yet it’s
not afraid to be lived in.”
Jasmine loved going through the inside of nice homes. A
few minutes after admiring the room they were staying in,
Jasmine sought out Mrs. Green. “Would it be all right if Jake
and I looked around the house?”
“Yes, of course, dear!” Mrs. Green chuckled even before
Jasmine finished asking. …Every guest must ask her that
question, Jake thought.
Jasmine led the way. She left the entryway at a right-angle
from the hall that took them to Guest Room Twelve. Jake
thought they were walking East, toward the back of the house.
They were walking through a long, beautiful room decorated with
a lot of gold objects and fabrics. At the far side of the room
were French doors. The awestruck college students walked
through the glowing room. Jasmine opened the French doors,
and they stood looking into another long, beautiful room full of
dark green and burgundy fabrics, dark red drapes, and lots of
books. “Maybe this is the library,” Jasmine said. She walked
in. “You know, each one of these beautiful rooms has a
purpose.”

370

Just then, the French doors on the far side of the reading
room burst open. Three children ran across the dark, redwood
floor in a gleeful gallop. The littlest one, a cute dark-blond boy
about two years old, kept yelling, “Yay, daddy’s home! Yay,
daddy’s home!” as he struggled to keep up with his older brother
and sister. They ran right past Jake and Jasmine without breaking
stride. The oldest was a gorgeous little brunette girl with big
brown eyes, fair skin, full lips, maybe six or seven years old.
She reached the next set of French doors a step ahead of the
middle sibling who was midway in height between the little lady
and the little golden boy. She threw open the French doors Jake
and Jasmine had just closed, and the little stampede vanished into
the distance. A moment passed, then Jake and Jasmine heard
“Daddy!” “Daddy!” “Daddy!” followed by squeals of laughter
as each little member of the charge reached its destination.
Jake heard Rico’s deep, loving voice, and Jake shivered in
disbelief for a second. This is the same Rico, he thought, the
same Rico in third grade on the tapes.
Jake and Jasmine followed the path the stampede had just
blazed. After what seemed like an unusually long walk to the
front door, they saw him. He was kneeling on his right knee.
The little one was sitting on his daddy’s left thigh; daddy’s right
arm was wrapped around the lovely little girl; the other arm
around his other striking son who looked like a little Rico. Rico
gave full attention to his children. They were telling him about
the highlights of their day.
Jake and Jasmine stopped before Rico saw them. They
instinctively did not want to interrupt this special moment
between father and children. The look of complete contentment
on the children’s faces, especially that little two-year old who
could not talk much, but who quietly savored his moment on
daddy’s lap, struck Jake. He did not know much about children,
but he knew that look of complete contentment was something
very special.
Rico was a handsome man about six feet tall. His Latino
looks, thick 5 o’clock shadow, and a noticeable scar just under
his left eye gave a clue to his tough-guy roots. Obviously, the
man could be intimidating if and when he needed to.

371

His strong looks made his gentleness with his children something beautiful to watch.
“Living poetry,” Jasmine whispered to Jake.
Rico heard the whispering and looked up, straight at Jake and
Jasmine.
“Hello Jake,” he said, standing up to shake hands, scooping
the two-year-old up with his left hand and extending his right.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rodriguez,” Jake said, walking
over to shake his hand. “This is my girlfriend, Jasmine.” Jake
and Jasmine both felt a surge of joy by their first use of the
term “girlfriend”.
“Call me Rico,” he said, shaking Jake and then Jasmine’s
hands. “And these are my most precious treasures Rosa, Rico
II, and little Tony,” he said raising the little boy with one hand,
like toasting a glass of wine. The three children, even the little
one nestled in his daddy’s arm, said a sweet, yet strong “Hi.”
“Two of my most precious treasures are missing. Mrs. Green,
where’s my Monica and my Olivia?”
“They’re upstairs, sir. Monica’s on the Internet.” Mrs. Green
seemed to know everything that’s going on, Jake thought.
“Dinner’s waiting for you, sir.”
As they went inside, Jake noticed that Rico’s skin was
surprisingly light, in contrast to his dark hair and dark brown
eyes. He was born with strong features and was very handsome
with prominent eyebrows resting over his exceptional eyes that
were windows to his strong character within. He was a man of
strength, yet tenderness. He looked healthy, strong, refined by
success. A tough guy, no mistake. But a refined man who lived
by his mind and no longer relied on his tough physical roots.
A few moments after arriving in the dining room, an adorable
ten-year-old girl and her beautiful mother entered.
“Ah, my other precious treasures,” Rico said jubilantly. “Jake
and Jasmine, meet my wife, Olivia, and my oldest, Monica.”
The ladies were striking if not stunning. Olivia moved
gracefully across the room toward Jake and Jasmine. Her blond
hair rested on her small, bare shoulders. She was tall for a
woman, with the long limbs of a model.
Monica, her daughter, looked so much like her mother, Jake
had to look twice to realize Monica was just a girl.

372

She was a few inches shorter and her hair was a shade darker than her mother, but the mature expression on her pretty face and her
poise made her look years older.
“You have beautiful children,” Jasmine said to Rico and
Olivia.
Through the dinner, Jake felt moved by the joy, the love, that
filled the room. Jake could not forget the look in those children’s
faces as they raced to see their father: nothing else in the world
mattered. …What an incredible love they have for each other.
Jake witnessed how rambunctious the two-year-old was
throughout the dinner and could not get over how still little Tony
sat in Rico’s lap earlier.
Rico had everyone at the dinner table laughing over a most
endearing story: two weeks after school had begun, he had called
Miss Annabelle at her house to ask her out to a movie, for she
was his first crush. Rico was a good storyteller, and he
elaborated on his embarrassments to his children’s and wife’s
delight.
“Jake, when you walked into my house, you must’ve brought
my memory banks with you. I haven’t thought about that crazy
story in twenty-five years!” Rico said. That statement seemed
to challenge his memory. He began to remember names and ask
Jake what they were doing now.
With some help from Jake, Rico remembered all eleven
classmates. Jake told him everything he knew and promised Rico
to fill him in over the weekend on the handful he had not yet
read about.
Something changed in Rico’s expression. He became quiet.
Jake studied Rico’s expressive eyes; they were aflame. Everyone
at the table stopped and looked at Rico. His kids and wife had
seen this look before. They knew some big idea was coming.
Jake and Jasmine wondered, what thought is brewing inside that
handsome head?
Finally, Rico released his thought for all to share: “We must
have a reunion!” Yes! Jake thought, that’s exactly what I want
to do.
Rico was a man of action. Once he made up his mind to
do something, nothing could stop him. “Jake, I must have that
PI report tonight.

373

Give it to Mrs. Green after dinner, and she’ll
make a copy for me. We will have a reunion. I’ll draft a letter
tomorrow, and we’ll send it out by Federal Express.”
Jake nearly leaped out of his skin. It was really going to
happen. What could possibly match the thought of meeting and
being among these people?

*

Later that night Jake and Jasmine, both in the middle of
reading the PI report, decided to take a break and walk through
the mansion.
The edifice was big, the rooms were big, yet there seemed
to be no end to the number of and purpose to the rooms: they
came upon a big and open gymnasium room, a huge play room,
an indoor swimming and jacuzzi room, an indoor tennis court
“room”, an arts and craft room, computer room, office, lots of
guest rooms, library room, movie room, gallery room, conference
room, study room, workshop room, a place that looked like a
“museum” room, and other mysterious rooms they did not know
the purpose of, along with big, “normal” rooms of most houses.
The design of the house was obviously well thought out for
maximum effectiveness for the leader of an empire.
During their journey into the lifestyle of the rich and famous,
Jasmine opened the French doors to yet another large room. A
slight breeze of warmth wafted by Jasmine and Jake, caused by
the six-foot high stone chimney crackling with a fresh fire. A
burgundy leather chair off to the side slowly swiveled around.
It was Rico. He held the PI report, opened about halfway.
“Excuse me,” Jasmine said, genuinely sorry for intruding on
someone so powerful and busy, for at that very moment she
thought of her father and how busy he once was and how much
he needed his privacy. Instinctively and apologetically, she
retreated.
“Jasmine, you and Jake come on in here,” Rico’s tone was
warm; he was naturally paternal.
Jasmine and Jake stepped down into the cozy, sunken den
and sat on the burgundy leather couch directly across from Rico,
perpendicular to the chimney.

374

“I want to thank you very much for bringing the turning point
of my life back to me.” Rico paused to collect his thoughts.
Jasmine took the opportunity to clarify that Jake had done
everything and that she would help him write the story.
“Thank you, Jake,” Rico continued. “You know, this report
is very moving to me in many ways. Everything…everything
is coming together from my starting point twenty-seven years ago
in Miss Annabelle’s classroom. The love my teacher and my
classmates felt in there was…so different, like the love my family
feels when we’re all together. Not until I met Olivia fifteen years
later and we had our children did I know those feelings again.”
Rico paused, and he seemed to drift off as would someone
rediscovering his past and rethinking his present. He said, “I’ll
tell you a little story to attempt to describe this love.” He paused
again to find a starting point.
“I was at the park with Monica the other day,” Rico exhaled,
his eyes looking inward at the memory, “and she finally said
the words I’d been dreading for two years. She said, ‘Daddy,
let’s not come here anymore, it’s boring.” Rico grimaced and
dropped his head involuntarily. Jake sensed something rare in
Rico’s emotions. How could a man so powerful and strong be
so moved over a simple comment of a growing, little girl?
“I’d been taking her there since she was two. I can still see
her trying to climb up the stairs to the slide. I remember
teaching her what lightning and thunder was and how far away
it was as we sat on the monkey bars one night and watched a
distant storm. Ever since she was two, she always wanted me
to join her on the swings or going down the slide. And then
her sister and brother came along. She loved playing with them,
and she was so protective of her siblings. I love that about
Monica. Sometimes, I’d just take her alone to always keep that
special bond we formed when she was a toddler, when she was
still our only child. It was Monica who made me discover my
endless love for having children. I never knew. I grew up in
a family with an angry, drunken father who hated me and a
mother who was always stressed out and yelling. Imagine what
a beautiful surprise it was for me when I felt my love for my
child grow inside me and root into the very deepest places inside
my heart. I’ll tell you, I had no idea, but I first discovered that
love at the park with Monica, and it’s been growing ever since.

375

…But I knew, even before she said she didn’t want to go there
anymore, that she’d outgrown the park. That precious part of
our lives was over. …I realized that our life together as Daddy
and my little girl was over, forever. We’ve been going to that
park since she was so little, and we had so many beautiful times
there. I can’t believe how fast the time passed by. At that rate,
pretty soon our life together as father and child will be over.”
Jasmine was overwhelmed, but fought back her emotions.
She felt strong parallels to the love between herself and her
father, and she became aware that her own father had struggled
with these same feelings as she grew up…and moved off to
college.
“Watching my children grow has made me acutely aware of
the finite nature of life. Sometimes it’s so hard to stay at work
and not spend the afternoon with my kids. I’ve cut out
everything from my life outside my work in order to spend
evenings and a good chunk of my weekends with my kids. I
cut out golf; I turn down invitations to social events and clubs.
My work and my family are my life. And for a man in my
position, I squeeze out an extraordinary amount of time to be
with my family. I know how mercilessly fast time rushes by.
What’s more, it’s those phases of life — only a few fast years
to an entire phase — and then that precious experience is over
forever, such as Monica being my little girl.”
Jake was beginning to realize that Rico’s love for his family
went beyond any parent’s love Jake had ever witnessed. Rico’s
love went to a new level. Jake was in awe as he realized this
new level of love was the level of love felt by the God-Man.
Caring for children has always been a measurement of evolution
— the more evolved, the more love and care for the children.
Now, Jake was realizing this unusually strong family love was
actually an indicator, a gauge, of the next evolution of man.
“My kids love to be with me. Whenever I leave to go to
work, they beg me to stay home…or to take them with me. I
started taking Monica to the office with me on weekends when
she was six. She’d get so excited. Now, I take Monica and
Rosa. They play computer games; Monica does her homework.
But if they have somewhere to go and can’t come with me, I
miss them so much that I’m actually not as productive.

376

I can’t wait till Rico is a little older…and, of course, little Tony.”
Jake saw that little face again sitting so still and content on
Rico’s lap just after tearing through the house like a little terror.
A high-energy little two-year-old sat still as a statue on his dad’s
lap. Jake could see that these children so much wanted to be
with their dad that they would rather be with him on Saturday
mornings at the office than out playing with their friends. Jake
was fathoming the power of this new level of family love.
Jasmine swallowed; her eyes were glassy. She was hanging on
every word of Rico’s story.
“Last year I had a small stress-related heart attack that turned
out to be a warning but not life threatening. During the heart
attack, I could only think about the devastation my children
would go through if I died. As I rubbed my chest and my
secretary called 911, I discovered then that my fear was not for
me, but for my children not having me if I died. I love them
more than I love myself. I just can’t bear the thought that
someday I’ll die and will leave my kids…and never be with them
again.”
Olivia walked into the room so quietly that no one noticed
her until she slipped her hands over Rico’s shoulders from behind
and leaned over to kiss him. Her blonde hair flopped around
her face. Her timely presence saved Jasmine from breaking into
tears. After kissing Rico’s cheek, she hugged him and looked
up at Jake and Jasmine and said, “Hi.” Jake saw the same love
on her face for her husband he had seen on Angie’s face for
Jessie. Rico rested a hand over his wife’s hand.
“My wife is my soul mate,” he said. “I realize now that it
was my experience in third grade that made me know that no
woman before Olivia was right for me. And my experience
made me know that I was in love with Olivia. With this report,
I’m remembering now how special I felt in Miss Annabelle’s
class, and how close I felt to her and my classmates. I didn’t
feel so special or close to anyone again until I met Olivia. I
guess that’s why it’s so easy for me to shut out socializing with
others. I only feel close to Olivia and my family. …And now,
reading this PI report, I’m remembering special feelings twenty-seven years ago I’d forgotten all about. Those were my only
true friends before Olivia and my children.”

377

Whereas Rico was rediscovering his special feelings from
twenty-seven years ago, Jake had been discovering those feelings
for the first time…ever since this adventure began. He was
looking forward to sharing those feelings with Rico, a comrade
in a special world different from the rest.
“Did you, back then, sort of feel like you were your own
little civilization, completely different than civilization around
you?”
The faraway thoughts behind Rico’s eyes came back to the
conversation at hand. “Yes…yes,” he said, realizing that Jake
had entered this other world. “Yes, that’s it. We were a
civilization of our own. We were meant to be together.” He
paused to reminisce. After a minute, he said, “We must get my
classmates, Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne together again.
We’re going to have that reunion, Jake…a GREAT reunion!
Olivia, we’ll be the host of the great reunion!” Rico was looking
up at his wife, “Darling, I know you’ve always wanted to hear
about my childhood, but I never talk about it. Tonight, I will
talk. I’ll tell you everything. Thanks to Jake, I now recall where
my life began.”

378

————————
Chapter
Thirty-One
————————

Reunion. That word sounded beautiful to Jake. He had met
only Rico, Angie and Jessie, but having listened to their stories
and every classroom lecture, Jake really felt he was reuniting
with these people.
These people! These people were from another world of their
own, a world in which Jake knew he belonged. Since they were
eight years old, these people lived in this other world. Just what
would happen when they came together as adults? It was a
mighty thought. Jake could barely stand the anticipation.
After classes Monday, Jake walked to Kinko’s and made
twenty copies of the PI report. As he was leaving, he ran into
one of his fraternity brothers.
“Hey, bro…where you been lately?” the fraternity jock asked.
“Been real busy,” was Jake’s reply. As his fraternity brother
pursued his curious line of questioning, Jake could not stop his
inner feeling that nagged him to get away from his frat brother.
Jake had little interest in the world of fraternities or their parties
any longer. Try as he did, Jake just could not see himself
spending another moment at the fraternity house. As he listened
to his peer talk about what Jake’s been missing, Jake knew that
during these past few weeks, he had been pursuing his calling.
He could not imagine himself doing anything outside this new
world he discovered with the only exception of going to his
classes and doing his studies.

379

Of course, Jasmine was part of
his new world. With that thought came an enlightenment.
“Thanks, Derrick!” Jake practically shouted. “You just helped
me solve a big problem! I’ve gotta run. See you later, bro.”
Jake grabbed his stack of reports, paid the cashier, and he
nearly ran out of Kinko’s. Derrick shook his head and muttered
something about love and another one biting the dust.
Out in the fresh cold air, Jake never felt so good. “All right!”
he yelped as he walked through the snow-covered campus back
to the dorms. After running into Derrick, Jake knew he was
going to quit everything beyond his classes, studies, this reunion
project, and time with Jasmine. He knew he would have to quit
his night job as a waiter at the local favorite Steaks & Wines
restaurant. He had enough money saved, and he made up his
mind to focus on the reunion.
At four o’clock he showed up to work and told the manager
he had to quit and was giving two week’s notice. The manager
looked at Jake for a long moment.
“Yer the best hustler in the place. Jake, I count on ya here.
Did ya get a better job somewhere else?”
“No, no,” Jake reassured him. “I’ve gotten involved in a
major project; I need to put all my spare time into it. …Before
now, I never knew how precious time could be.”
Jake liked the manager. He was a hard-working man in his
mid-twenties who was raising a family and never had the
resources to go to college. He alone made the popular restaurant
run like a watch. He had the natural good looks of a competent
young man with self-confidence and maturity beyond his years.
Jake and his manager had an unspoken bond based on admiration
for each other’s work ethics.
“I’m sorry to see ya go,” the manager said. He thought for
a moment, and then, out of his respect for Jake, he opened a
series of questions, “How soon do ya start this project?”
“I’m waist deep in it already and going in fast,” Jake said
while hanging up his coat.
“How ya gonna to pay yer bills?” the manager asked. He
was not being nosy. It was his way of showing concern.
“I have a bit saved. And, I have a pretty nice coin collection
in my safe deposit box from when I was a kid.

380

I can sell some of my gold coins if I need to.”
“Yer really into this project, aren’t ya?”
For the first time, Jake noticed a young man before him,
somber…silently saying good-bye. At that moment, Jake saw the
manager differently. His life was tied to this restaurant. Jake
was merely using the restaurant on his way to much better things.
Without planning to, suddenly filled with compassion, Jake heard
himself say:
“I’m sorry,” and he instantaneously thought, why did I say
that? But he knew he was sorry that he could not give the
manager wings to fly to the heights Jake himself was preparing
for.
“I’ll tell ya what,” the manager said, covering up his sense
of loss. “We’re slow this time of year. Put yer coat back on
and get to work on yer project, hear me?”
Jake looked at his friend and smiled. It was a gift, the only
gift the young family man could afford. Jake knew the manager
would be waiting tables himself until he could find a replacement.
“Thank you,” Jake said. His tone of voice made it fully clear
that he had just received a gift.
The manager put out his hand to shake Jake’s hand. “It’s
the least I can do. I’ve enjoyed working with ya, Jake. Good
luck out there.” His expression changed from boss to friend.
“And, ya go to the top. I can see the first atom of selfmotivation or lack of it in every young man and woman who
passes through here, ya know. Yers is the best.”
Jake knew that this was the last time their paths would cross;
this was good-bye, forever. For a moment, Jake did not want
to let go of the manager’s hand. Then he heard himself say
the oddest thing.
“Someday things will be different. Not just for me, but for
everybody. Things’ll be better, a lot better.”
They nodded and forever parted.

381

The reunion letter was impactful and fun to read. Jake
admired Jasmine’s writing skills as she helped Jake put together
a brief and exciting history of events that led up to the fourpage reunion letter. Jake and Jasmine had convinced Rico, while
spending the weekend in the beautiful mansion, to let them write
the reunion letter.
Jake was never so excited about his future as that Wednesday
afternoon when he and Jasmine walked into the campus post
office with a stack of fifteen large manila envelopes. Each
envelope contained the reunion letter and the PI report. All
twelve former students (including Rico at his request) and Miss
Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne (addressed to Miss Darlene Belle
at her publisher’s address) were getting sent the package, and
so were Jessie and Angie, of course. That added up to fourteen
packages. Jake decided to also send the lawyer who had helped
Miss Annabelle, Bruce Salinski, an invitation. He knew that Rico
would approve. In tracking him down through the Internet and
discovering the boundary-breaking work Salinski was doing as
perhaps the first profoundly honest lawyer, Jake could not wait
to meet the man. He, too, belonged in this other world of fully
integrated honesty.
Including Jasmine and me, Jake thought as he looked at the
stack to be mailed, that makes nineteen of us — seventeen people
who already live in this other world and two who want to get
there, Jasmine and me. What, oh what, Jake wondered, could
these people create if they came together, as adults, on a common
goal as they did in third grade when they produced the amazing
Breakthrough News. Working alone, they were changing the
world in a big way. The thought of them coming together sent
a rush of excitement through Jake.
As Jake and Jasmine dropped the packages through the mail
slot, Jake trembled for a second.
“They’re all coming, you know,” he said.
“How do you know that?” Jasmine asked, knowing that those
people were running empires and could not so easily break away.
“I know what they once had twenty-seven years ago. Over
the years, they forgot. They’ll all react just like Rico. You’ll
see.”
The complete confidence in Jake’s tone moved Jasmine. She
let sink in what was happening.

382

…What will it be like being
in the same room with people like Al Patterson, Theodore
Winters, Sally Salberg, Ian Scott, and Daniel Ward? For the
first time since she knew him, Jasmine heard Jake’s voice
tremble: He turned to her, eyes big and dancing; he grasped her
shoulders, and whispered, “What have I done?”

*

The phone was ringing as Jake opened the door to his dorm
room Friday afternoon. He dropped his books on the couch on
the way to the phone.
“Hi,” Jake said, already knowing it was Jasmine, of course,
calling about going to the movies later that evening.
“Jake?” she said, sounding a little odd.
“How are you doing?”
“Jake, I’m doing fine. My name is Dr. Sally Salberg, and I
received your letter today.”
Jake’s heart raced. He was talking to the likely winner of
the Nobel Prize…the woman who developed a cure for influenza
and whose discoveries were now leading medical science toward
a cure for cancer.

*

Before the weekend was over, he had talked to three Nobel
Prize nominees — Dr. Sally Salberg, Dr. Ian Scott, and the great
Theodore Winters — and over half the others. By Monday, all
the former students had called and confirmed as well as a
delighted Jessie and Angie and a surprised Bruce Salinski. Jake
knew he would not hear from Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne
for another week or so since they lived in Australia. But, Jake
received a surprise call from her Tuesday evening. Apparently,
Angie emailed Miss Annabelle to see if she would make it
to the reunion. Miss Annabelle told Jake that she and her
husband decided they had to come, even if some risks were
involved.
Less than one week after he sent the reunion letter, everyone
was confirmed to attend the reunion. Jake had talked to or met
every one of the nineteen except for Miss Annabelle’s husband. In
three weeks, Jake and Jasmine would personally meet them all.

383

Jake had no more interest in his old activities or friends. For
a couple of days, he wrestled with the thought that maybe he
was becoming a snob, now that he had rubbed elbows with Nobel
Prize nominees and multimillionaires. He felt guilty for not
wanting to spend time with his old friends anymore. When he
expressed his feelings to Jasmine, she helped him see that he
was rising to another level that demanded more out of him than
his old friends and activities, which had nothing to do with
becoming a snob.
Jake was grateful for her support, but she could see he was
still bothered. Jasmine said, “I’ve always been a bit of a loner;
I never had a lot of friends like you did. So, I know I can’t
relate to what you’re feeling. But, I can prove to you that you’re
neither becoming a snob nor is this going to your head.”
“You can?”
“Yes, I can. Just last Tuesday when we were addressing the
reunion letters…do you remember what we talked about?”
Jake cocked his head. This was intriguing. “We talked about
a lot of things,” he said, still in the dark.
“I know we did, honey. But who did you go on about
for…oh…at least an hour?”
Jake grinned, “Yeah…OK…I rambled on about Jessie and
Angie. God, I love those people.”
“Exactly, Jake…you love them. They’re an honest, salt-of-the-Earth couple. They’re not rich or famous. Jessie’s a janitor
and Angie’s a housewife. They’re honest people, Jake, and I
see in your face: that’s why you love them. …If you were a
snob or if this were going to your head, you wouldn’t light up
like you do when you talk about Jessie and Angie.”
Jake was floored. He grabbed Jasmine and kissed her.
“Thank you, darling. Thank you, thank you.” The false guilt
vanished.

384

Three weeks clipped by in a hurry. Jake kept his anticipation
under control by working endlessly in the evenings with Jasmine
writing about his experience. Jasmine was right when she told
Jake, back when they were spending the weekend with Rico, that
this project would not be one article but a series of articles.
They worked frantically over those three weeks. They had
planned to have the paper to hand out at the reunion. As they
got into the project, it grew well beyond a three-week job. But
the reunion was the unmovable deadline. Jake and Jasmine
worked until two in the morning, night after night. The night
before they were to fly South to Rico’s home, two days before
the reunion, a bleary-eyed Jake and Jasmine smiled with deep
satisfaction as they stood in the 24-hour Kinko’s at 3:00 a.m.,
looking at their 128-page booklet, bound in a rose cover titled
Miss Annabelle and subtitled The Beginning • The Reunion • The
New Beginning.
The booklet contained a lot. It was packed full of information
the former students and their teacher would very much enjoy
reading. Jake revisited several of the most invigorating lectures,
reminded them of some of the fun and light moments,
summarized important events such as the separation of the teacher
and her students, how and why it happened. He also included
a current update on the seventeen people coming to the reunion,
not including Jasmine or himself, and he wrote a long editorial
with his own input and conclusions.
Jake, along with Jasmine’s professional writing style, put
together a riveting booklet in just three weeks. In a few hours
they would travel to Rico’s. As they stood there in Kinko’s at
3:00 in the morning, exhausted, for the first time they had time
to be nervous about the big event.

*

Jake and Jasmine took off classes Friday to be at Rico’s by
midday to help out. The guests would arrive Saturday afternoon
for the reunion, which would start at 4:00 p.m.
Rico opened his home to his former soul mates to stay with
him for as long as they could; his house could easily
accommodate them all. They all told Jake they would stay over
Saturday and Sunday nights, which was a long time for this group
of powerful people. About half of them would stay a day longer.

385

As per Rico’s instructions, Jake encouraged them to arrive at any
time, a day or two early if they could. But their schedules forced
them to arrive Saturday afternoon.
Jake and Jasmine arrived the day before. The house did not
cease to overwhelm them. They were staying in a different room
this time, with the window facing the back view. Jasmine loved
the views from the mansion. Everywhere she looked, her eyes
were filled with the beauty of nature. Snow-white grounds
bordered by rich green pine trees. The air was fresh and filled
with a pine aroma from the pine wood burning in two fireplaces.
After they settled into their five-star room, Jasmine looked
out at the coveted view.
“Jake, look!” she cried out.
“What…wow! Let’s go check it out.”
They ran down the back, grand spiral staircase like a couple
of kids and out the back door. There before them was a
sprawling one-story glass building that was not there when they
were here a month ago. In front of the glass building stood a
large arch, sort of like a miniature St. Louis arch made out of
block glass and golden neon lights brightly shining: “Thank You,
Miss Annabelle!”
Walking inside the glass edifice, Jake took a deep breath and
whispered to Jasmine, “Would you look at that!”
They were surrounded by beautiful, lighted fountains and
flower gardens.
Jasmine took a deep breath through her nose and whispered
back, “All those flowers smell so good!”
Although it was the middle of February, the scented air inside
was warm and moist, like a green house. As the couple walked
around, they were amazed as the beauty in there went on and
on…it seemed to be the size of a football field inside.
“Jake, this reminds me of a book my father read to me when
I was a little girl. It was called ‘The Secret Garden’.”
“Isn’t it beautiful in here?” another woman’s voice said so
gently that it fell just short of startling the young couple. Then
from around a large bush trimmed into the shape of a cuddly,
sitting bear, came the soft blonde hair and fair skin.
“Hi Olivia,” Jake said as Jasmine smiled.
“Welcome, you two.”

386

“This place is like a dream…” Jasmine said.
“Like dreams innocent children have,” Olivia said smiling.
“That was what Rico wanted. That’s what I tried to capture.”
“Oh, you did…I’ve already had memories of my father when
I was just a child, and we were so close,” Jasmine said.
“Thank you, dear,” Olivia said, tilting her head in compassion
and reaching out, touching Jasmine’s shoulder.
Jake, the analytical one, started asking about the structure of
the building and how it got here in just three weeks. It turned
out to be a temporary structure that gets picked up and reused
at expensive gatherings such as this.
“I’ve fallen in love with this place, though,” Olivia said.
“And so have the kids. It’s our secret garden. I don’t know if
we’ll take it up after the reunion or just keep it here
permanently.”
Jake realized that Olivia had been working just as hard and
as long as he and Jasmine had been working over the past three
weeks.
“You’re doing something very special for your husband,” he
said.
“So are you, and I want to thank you for that Jake…and you
too, Jasmine. Rico had a hard childhood. He had disowned that
part of himself and never talked about his past. He lost touch
of who he was and where he came from. These past three weeks
have been the most beautiful, most rewarding weeks since we
first fell in love. He talks almost every night about his
childhood, always about that year…that wonderful class…about
his teacher, that wonderful woman whom I cannot wait to meet
and thank…and about his amazing classmates, soul mates whom
Rico had almost forgotten about when he blanked out his
traumatic childhood. It’s like a part of my husband had always
been missing, unreachable. Now, that part of him is alive and
warm and lovable. God, I’m so glad you came along, Jake.”
She walked over and hugged Jake and then Jasmine.
“I thank you on behalf of my husband, myself, and my
children. You should see him play with them now, like he’s a
kid again himself.”
Jake and Jasmine felt loved by Olivia, Rico, and their
children.

387

Jake felt love for Rico and Olivia and their children,
for Jessie and Angie, for Miss Annabelle, for everyone who was
coming to the reunion. Is this the way of the other world, he
wondered, people creating magnificent values for each other,
feeling deep, deep thanks and closeness and love for each other?

388

————————
Chapter
Thirty-Two
————————

The big day was here. All morning Mrs. Green was bringing
people through the oversized front doors. Each time she did,
Jake’s heart jumped as he wondered, with the enthusiasm of a
child, who could it be? So far, every arrival was hired help
for the big event…waiters and waitresses, musicians, dancers,
artists.
This must have cost a couple of hundred thousand dollars,
Jake thought, not sure if he was exaggerating to himself or not.
While watching the musicians carry in their equipment, Jake
spotted Rico. The handsome man had a lot on his mind. He
stood still and silent, slowly looking around. When he saw Jake,
he walked over to him and asked him about Miss Annabelle.
“Hi Jake. Miss Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne are flying here
from Australia; that’s a long flight, and they’ll be tired. When
do they arrive?”
“Don’t worry, sir—” Jake started to answer, but Rico put his
hand up and told Jake to relax and call him Rico as always.
“Okay,” Jake continued, taking a deep breath. “Miss
Annabelle and Mr. Melbourne arrived yesterday in Philadelphia.
They decided to stay there in a hotel to sleep off the jet lag.
She told me that if she stayed here the first night, she’d stay
up all night talking to you.

389

And she wanted me to warn you that tonight she’s staying here and that you’ll be up all night visiting with her.”
Rico laughed. He could not wait to see her again. He turned
to walk away, then swung back around and said, “Last night I
read the whole booklet Miss Annabelle: The Beginning • The
Reunion • The New Beginning. I want you to know, I savored
every line. I laughed; I cried, and I longed to be with these
people again. You and Jasmine gave us a priceless gift. Every
one of us involved with Miss Annabelle will feel the way I did
last night reading your booklet. It’s a treasure. Thank you.”
Jake smiled. It was a powerful high to create a meaningful
value for people of this caliber.

*

At three o’clock Jake saw a dozen or so handsome men in
black tuxedos line up on one side of the entryway and an equal
number of beautiful women in black evening gowns line up on
the other side of the entryway. They would escort the arrivals
to the glass Reunion House.
Just past the entryway on the left, in the receiving room,
gathered an ensemble of musicians with string instruments. They
began playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
Jasmine squeezed Jake’s arm. The college students never
experienced anything like this before.
Then, all at once, it all began. In a space of fifteen minutes,
nearly everyone arrived. The anticipation, then the sudden flurry
of arrivals, reminded Jake of standing at the finish line of the
Boston Marathon. The front door would open, and Mrs. Green
would whisper a name to the gentleman in the tuxedo who, in
turn, would turn around and loudly announce the arrival. He
and one of the beautiful ladies would walk the arrivals to the
back and outside again for a moment along a red carpet, under
the magnificent arch and into the dreamland where Rico awaited
them.
The first to arrive were Theodore and Cathy Winters. Jake
was in awe of what filled his eyes. Here was the great Theodore
Winters in person. He looked untouchable, radiating a power
bigger than life.

390

And on his arm was the most beautiful woman
Jake had ever seen. Cathy, the little fat girl, had grown up to
be an international supermodel. His power and her beauty
mystified the room. Jake wondered, “Will I really talk to them
tonight?”
As each arrival was announced, Jake mentally attached him
or her to the child in Miss Annabelle’s class. As he did this,
he could see the innocence of the child still in the face of every
one of these powerful people. Suddenly, there she was: Miss
Annabelle. Jake could feel Jasmine shaking his arm gently,
acknowledging the guest of honor. But he could not hear
anything. He was wondering, “Does she look even more adorable
in person now in her early 60s than she did in the photos he
saw of her at Angie and Jessie’s house taken twenty-seven years
ago?” When her coat was removed, her bare shoulders and arms
were small and defined. Her skin was supple and smooth above
her breasts. She wore a white evening dress that women forty
years younger would wear, but this petite body and beautiful face
looked like a living Barbie doll. With one glance in her eyes
as she walked by, Jake could feel mysteries and secrets that lay
within, mysteries and secrets that she gave to her twelve little
God-Men twenty-seven years ago. He wanted to see her longer
so he followed Miss Annabelle and her handsome husband —
known to the students as Mr. Melbourne — to the Reunion
House.
The young man in the tuxedo and the young woman in the
black dress walked them to the back while carrying their coats.
Just before stepping outside to go to the Reunion House, the
escorts placed Miss Annabelle’s and Mr. Melbourne’s coats back
over their shoulders, and they stepped outside. Miss Annabelle
gasped and looked up at the glowing message woven through
the glass arch: Thank You, Miss Annabelle!
Inside, the six or seven former students who had already
arrived were gathered together, with Rico standing in the middle.
The young man in the tuxedo loudly announced, “Ladies and
gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you: Mr. and Mrs.
Melbourne!”
Everyone stopped and turned.

391

Jake was glad he was
witnessing this moment. Faces turned red and eyes turned glassy.
No one moved for a moment, as though allowing their pasts to
collide with their present. Rico finally walked from the center
of the crowd toward his childhood inspiration, his eyes fixed on
her.
“I’m Rico,” he said quietly, “and I’ve missed you.”
Miss Annabelle looked at Rico as a mother would look at
her long-lost son. Time reversed. She could still see, in his
eyes, the nine-year-old boy the very last time she saw him, that
sad day before leaving for prison over twenty-six years ago…her
little Rico bursting into tears, running over and hugging her,
crying in her arms for one precious moment before turning and
running to his bike and riding away, looking back, looking back
at her for one last glance before losing her for years to come.
I can never forget that moment, she realized; I thought it was
the last time I’d ever see him. Now that she saw Rico as a
man before her, reality hit her hard: I never got to watch my
precious children grow up.
“Oh, Rico, I’ve missed you so much,” the beautiful lioness
said. She walked over and hugged him. When she started
talking again, Jake noticed she was crying. “I’ve missed all of
you so very much,” she cried, “and I felt so bad about leaving
you!” Jake felt an eruption of emotion inside when he looked
around and saw Rico and the other former students fighting back
tears.
Yet, today was proof of what Miss Annabelle had known
back then when she left for Australia, the only reason she was
able to leave: the new way of thinking, Neothink, was in them.
She had planted the seed; today she witnessed how that seed had
grown in her twelve students.

*

After the initial shock was over and things settled down,
dinner was served. After dinner, each former student, Miss
Annabelle, Mr. Melbourne, Salinski, Jessie and Angie, and Jake
were each planning to stand up and give a five-minute talk about
what they were doing in their adult lives. Before the five-minute
talks began, they had an hour to mingle.
Jake first met Debra Kirkland. He remembered her — she
was the daughter of the parents who owned the two hamburger
restaurants called Kirkland Burgers.

392

Since then, she built the
family hamburger business into the famous national fast-food
chain called Debbie’s French Fry City. As Debra said a few
nice things to Jake, expressing her appreciation for bringing the
class together again, Jake remembered how it all started twentyseven years ago when she noticed that good french fries were
addicting and were the number-one reason for repeat customers.
She talked her parents into putting emphasis on the french fries.
Her parents purchased two big, stainless steel state-of-the-art
french fry deep fryers and, upon Debbie’s insistence, put them
right out in the open behind the counter. Those state-of-the-art
deep fryers were always working because they guaranteed french
fries hot, fresh out of the fryer. They cooked smaller quantities
to keep that policy of serving only hot french fries fresh out of
the fryer. In the small town of her parent’s original restaurants,
Debbie was able to easily monitor the frequency of repeat
customers. She suggested to her parents the bold move of giving
away the delicious french fries for free with every order of a
hamburger and a drink. That strategy introduced the “addictive”
fries to everyone who walked in, and the free fries gave those
who liked the fries a subconscious tug to come back whenever
they were deciding where to go for fast food. Her parents
tried her idea, and they started the free french fries to coincide
with the name change to Debbie’s French Fry City. The
profits soared. The two original restaurants became so
profitable, her parents opened two more in Buffalo. …To this
day, over twenty-five years later, french fries were still free
with any hamburger and drink at Debbie’s French Fry City all
across America.
Next, Jake met Jeremiah Jones, an attractive man with a
baritone voice. He was articulate with an impressive vocabulary.
Each statement he made seemed to have profound thought behind
it.
Jeremiah orchestrated the fastest-growing church in the
country called the Church of God-Man. But of course, Jake
thought, I remember Jeremiah’s piece in Breakthrough News
written over twenty-six years ago.

393

The underlying message of
his church was based on Ian’s scientific work about abundant
conscious civilizations existing throughout the Universe, nearly
all of which obsoleted conscious death. Jeremiah’s Church rested
on a scientifically based idea system for living versus a mystically
based idea system for dying. He explained that the Church of
God-Man, also referred to as the Church of Life, was the first
and only church that viewed human death as an anomaly among
the Civilization of the Universe. “People should not die,” he
told Jake, “but since we still do on Earth, we must lift ourselves
to the next level of thinking that Mr. Melbourne calls Neothink.
When enough people do, then the technology to achieve
immortality will come quickly, and that is my motivation behind
my Church.”
His Church called for self-improvement, particularly for what
it called “fully integrated honesty”. Fully integrated honesty
meant that within one’s scope of knowledge, he or she act only
with honesty. Jake remembered, from something he had heard
while listening to the tapes of Miss Annabelle’s lectures, that
fully integrated honesty led to integrated thinking and puzzle-building Neothink.
The idea of pure honesty sounded easy enough, but Jeremiah
explained that our minds constantly go through rationalizations
and tricks in order to not be consistently honest with what is
best for the individual. “The matrix of illusions we grow up in
helps deflect our minds away from pure honesty,” Jeremiah told
Jake and Jasmine. “As we learn to detect and end those subtle
dishonesties, we begin to see what is and can start building
mental puzzles of Neothink to evolve toward the God-Man.”
Recognizing the discipline such a church would put on the
average person, Jake asked, “How did your church become the
fastest growing church in the country?”
“The glue that holds this together,” Jeremiah explained, “and
causes new people to stay with us, is the extraordinary emphasis
we put on business and social advantages. In fact, those life
advantages are the secret why all religions are successful. The
majority of people subconsciously attend church because of the
personal and business advantages they get by networking with
others. We honed in on and explicitly emphasized business and
social advantages to outcompete other religions at their own
game. In fact, we take those life advantages to the next level,
which I’ll explain in my little speech later.”

394

Jake could not wait for those five-minute speeches.
Everywhere he turned here, he realized that something spectacular
opened before him. In the middle of that thought, he turned
around and listened to Robert Chapman talking to Natasha Stokov
Kemp. “Oh yes,” Jake quietly muttered, “this is Bobby and
Nattie.”
Bobby owned the international phenom called: Thank God It’s
Friday (TGIF) Employment Placement. Jake listened in
fascination as Robert Chapman told how one person in thousands
lives the life he or she was meant to live. Natasha agreed, saying
she learned from her workshops that, of the thousands of different
jobs that exist, one deepest motivational root exists in each
person, making the odds thousands to one against a person living
the life he or she was meant to live. As they talked, Robert
and Natasha realized their businesses had great affinity. They
could cross reference customers. She could refer her workshop
attendees to Robert to land their dream jobs, and he could refer
his clients to Natasha to find true love and complete the person
they were meant to be.
Robert’s specially trained counselors would get each person
who comes to his company to uncover, through a series of
techniques, what that person had always been drawn to, perhaps
unkowingly. Natasha’s workshop did something very similar.
Jake listened in fascination as they compared their techniques on
how to get down to a person’s deep, motivational root.
Robert’s company helped his clients make the self-discovery
of something he called their “Friday-Night Essence”, which is
something productive that person would enjoy doing on a Friday
night. Robert pointed out that if one’s job were his Friday-Night
Essence, he would naturally come back to and focus on or do
research on his “Friday-Night Essence”, even in the evenings and
some on the weekends. That kind of “downstream focus” for
one’s livelihood, instead of the usual “upstream battle”, was
necessary to get into the top 1% in any field. …Jake felt a
strong chemistry between Natasha’s workshops and Robert’s
employment agency.
Once Robert’s company discovered a client’s Friday-Night
Essence, releasing his or her “downstream focus”, his company
would place his client in a related job.

395

His company searched
the entire world if necessary. Companies loved his placements
because the employees who discovered their calling were
motivated and happy. He tracked the success rate of the
employees his agency placed. A whopping 96% rose to the upper
echelons of management.
With that success rate, his company did a couple of things
that were unprecedented: 1) it contacted companies that were
NOT hiring to alert them of a match, and 2) his employment
placement company contacted companies with a match, even if
that person did not meet the required level of experience or
education. Robert explained that the deep-rooted motivation
rekindled by one’s Friday-Night Essence releasing his or her
“downstream focus” outperformed experience and education every
time. Because of his company’s phenomenal reputation,
businesses usually hired his recommendations, oftentimes even
if those businesses were not looking to hire.
Jake stood to the side listening to this and began wondering,
“What’s my Friday-Night Essence? Who was I meant to be?”
He felt, ever since January and his trip to Duncan Elementary
School, that he was somehow opening the door to the life he
was meant to live. He also felt he would make that self-discovery before the weekend was over.
“What if you can’t find a match?” Natasha asked.
“Those whom we can’t find a match to place, we help them
introduce the life they were meant to live into their day-to-day
life. We set them up on the deceivingly simple technique brought
to light by Theodore — the mini-day system. For a person to
make his or her Friday-Night Essence his or her livelihood is
that person’s life ambition, whether he consciously realizes it or
not. Using the mini-day concept, we visualize that person’s
Friday-Night Essence at a commercial level. Then, we break into
physical movements what it would take to get to that commercial
level. Those physical movements are each given a block of time
and placed in the evenings after work and on weekend mornings.
That person’s evenings and weekends suddenly look similar to
the evenings and weekends of the world’s most successful
winners.

396

And because those mini-days are that person’s fun and
exciting Friday-Night Essence — who that person was meant to
be — he or she stays on that schedule of focussing, learning,
and producing in the evenings and weekends. Over three-fourths
of our clients who are set up this way eventually build a
successful business doing what they love to do. Many thousands
have gone on to become multimillionaires.”
“We really need to get together and talk,” Natasha said.
Jake sat down in his chair, overwhelmed by the value these
former students were providing to the world. He could barely
wait for the five-minute speeches. As if his thoughts were being
answered, Rico got up and announced the start of the speeches.
“Who’d like to go first?” he asked.
Ah yes, the beautiful eyeful, Cathy Winters volunteered. She
was the girl who used to never talk, Jake remembered. She was
now proportionately perfect. Her closely tailored evening gown
suggested a body with sleek, feline features. But what struck
Jake, when the spotlight found her, was her eyes. No animal
in the wild could conquer her, he thought, for she is the superior
mental animal. Having been fat as a child and having been
seeded with Neothink in third grade, this anomaly of superior
intelligence with physical beauty was created.
She began by telling what that special lunch in third grade
meant to her when Miss Annabelle sat next to her. Jake watched
Miss Annabelle as Cathy told the story, and as he saw the
teacher’s face quietly fill with love, he knew: she still loves them
like her own children.
“Since that day in the lunchroom, I wanted to become
beautiful, sweet, and smart like my teacher. I idolized her, and
I grew to love her more than my own family. She became my
heroine and my role model. Determined to show her I could
do it, I started to diet. But I started to get so nervous because
I didn’t know if I could stay in control. That was my biggest
fear — could I keep control and stay on my diet. Then I realized
the temptations at home were just too great. There were too
many snacks around the house. My whole family was obese and
there were cookies and cake everywhere. By accident, I made
a discovery. This part of my story I didn’t tell you in third
grade because I was too embarrassed: to get some control at
home, I’d close my eyes when I’d go into the kitchen to blind
myself to the cookies, ice cream, candy. I went straight to the
same place in the kitchen to fix myself the exact same thing each
day for breakfast.

397

And when not in school, I did the same for
lunch, fixing myself the same lunch every day. My mom would
yell at me, but I fixed my own dinner, too — the exact same
dinner, every day. I also fixed the exact same snack every night.
At first, I would close my eyes when I walked through the
kitchen and put my hands out to feel my way to the counter.
I’d clear off a space to fix my meal and not look around me,
so as not to see all those goodies. But a strange thing happened:
do you remember? I wrote about it in that fabulous
Breakthrough News we published.”
Jake looked around. A few of the students were smiling and
nodding. All the students had that “oh yeah, remember that?”
look, and Jake knew that look was for Breakthrough News.
“After about three weeks, I noticed the cookies and things
didn’t bother me. I started walking right by them, with my eyes
opened, and I didn’t feel tempted. I only craved my set meal
— the same thing I’d been eating for three weeks. Wow, what
a revelation: I now had control! I discovered that we can
condition our cravings to certain foods, and we can condition
our hunger to certain quantities. That was the beginning of my
famous diet. On other diets, those million-year-old forces of
hunger and cravings work against you and control you, but on
my diet, you condition those powerful forces to work for you,
and you control them.”
Again, Jake was moved by the value these students have
brought the world. He reflected on how millions of obese people
had gotten slim and sexy using the Cathy Winters Diet — the
lose-fat-and-gain-a-life diet — bringing them happiness and
quality of life while averting disasters such as heart attacks,
diabetes, high blood pressure, and strokes.
Cathy looked at her third-grade teacher and said, “I wish you
could be me for one minute to feel my emotions from the inside
and know what a wonderful life I have. Thank you, thank you
Miss Annabelle for noticing me when you sat next to me. I’ll
never forget that first hug you gave me—” Cathy’s voice got
emotional, and she paused for a moment, “I’ll never forget that
you noticed me. That made me so determined, and I have never
lost that determination ever since. Thank you…”
Cathy knew her life would have gone down the drain if not
for this woman.

398

“I don’t know if you remember, but one day
in class you asked us to imagine something that seemed bigger
than life. I never told anyone, but I was imagining being a
supermodel. Because of you, my dream came true.” She walked
over to hug Miss Annabelle.
“I’ve been waiting twenty-six years to do this,” she cried as
she and Miss Annabelle, too moved to talk, hugged. Jake looked
around at the other former students. Emotions were building,
held back by the dam of composure. The dam sprang a leak
when Miss Annabelle talked.
“Oh, I’m so sorry I had to leave!” Miss Annabelle said. For
twenty-three years, she held that tormenting sentence inside. Mr.
Melbourne, who looked dashing and debonair, gently rubbed her
back as she talked to her students. “I’m so grateful for this day
to be with you again. You know, my heart never mended, not
after all these years.” She had to stop talking to catch her breath
before continuing. “But seeing you again, hearing about your
happy lives, is finally healing my heart. You’re all thanking me,
now let me thank you for the love and happiness and beautiful
memories you all brought me back then…and now. Thank you
so very, very much…my dearests.”
Jake could feel the depth of her gratitude, and so could her
former students. No one could talk right then, so Rico asked
Jake if he could stand up now instead of at the end as scheduled.
Jake was nervous about standing in front of these great people,
but was caught by surprise so he had no time to think about
his nervousness.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m awestruck by all of you. My
name is Jake Catchings and—” suddenly his audience burst into
applause. Jake was stunned…what’s this? Rico walked over and
whispered into Jake’s ear that they were grateful to him for
starting what led to them all getting together again. Until now,
Jake had not felt worthy of being there. The applause gave him
a sense of belonging and much-needed boost of confidence. He
relaxed and continued with a smile, “Thank you. I’m the college
student who figured out that you, with all your outstanding
successes, had one common denominator — Miss Annabelle.
Thanks to her and the beginnings twenty-seven years ago, every
one of you here today is so profound!

399

I feel that in your presence, I’m discovering the power of human life. When Miss Annabelle planted the seeds of Neothink in you as children, you were amazing. Now that the harvest has arrived as adults, you’re awesome. I come to you as an outsider and stand at a distance and observe. Through you, I see a different world than the one I’ve always lived in. Your world is driven by passion and fueled
with compassion. Each of you is changing the world for the
better in some important way.” Jake paused, as if hesitating to
say it: “But what if all that individual puzzle-building power
combined together into one huge superpuzzle? As I sit here and
observe…somehow I feel something huge is to come out of all
this. I guess that’s because two months ago I listened to all
the tapes of your year in third grade and saw what power radiated
from you as a group when you worked together as children. I
look around this room today and can’t help wondering what
would happen if you put your great minds together now, as
adults. What would such a supermind create?”
Jake had just delivered quite a stirring thought. Now, he
changed gears and went on to tell several stories from those thirdgrade tapes, bringing back vivid memories for the former students
and their teacher. Some of the stories were funny, bringing
laughter and joy to the crowd. Other stories reminded them just
how much power they did generate as a group. …They loved
this college boy, and everyone knew he was a soul mate. At
the end of his talk, he told Miss Annabelle how deep his feelings
had grown for her, even though she did not know him. And
he told her how much Jessie and Angie had helped him and how
much they loved her and missed her. Then he called Jasmine
up on the speaker’s platform with him.
“This is my girlfriend, Jasmine. She’s studying to become
a writer and journalist. She helped me make this gift for you.
Thanks to her, it’s enjoyable and easy to read. Here is a booklet
for posterity that documents your year together.” As Jake and
Jasmine handed out the booklet they had worked so hard to
finish, they felt gratitude radiating from these people from a
different world.
Jake sat down, feeling very proud, knowing he had injected
a meaningful value into this new world.

400