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The scene: Charleston, SC, party capital of the South East. The epoch: 1990-2002 and the theme: what is full maybe soon becomes empty. This concerns money, time, alcohol, and other vices. I am writing to you young eager college freshman who might be missing something in your life. It deals with you and your dreams. It could mean the difference between you becoming a meager wage earner or a happy, content person with solid footing. Your peers may determine your future if you allow them to kill your dreams.

We were four teens, Timmy, Ronald, Billy and I. This book is fiction. This novella or short book is about town bent like a junkyard. Yet there came no revolution nor reform to fix the dents. It is full of misadventures of the police chasing me. If you are a fan of Stranger Things on Netflix, or movies like Stand by Me or The Outsiders, then I hope you will enjoy these reflections. Time ran slower in the late 70s and early 80s. So did people, and so did cognition.

Frank again is fired as a Charleston Detective and returns to Sullivan’s Island. There he becomes a Private Investigator and studies law. He becomes an attorney. Yet to local politics, Frank’s chance to shine as an attorney is delayed. So he turns to what he knows best, Private Investigating. He is hired by the famous bisexual author Elizabeth Frazier.

During the years of 1995-2008, I fought the law (secondary school administrators) and the law won. I taught with my heart and not my head. I gave my all but did not know this was not allowed. I was nominated Teacher of the Year twice. Yet lost it because I was teaching out of my area. I left twice in the middle of the year, well, three times because the law was not doing its job.

After many years of prayer and therapy, I wish to use ancient philosophy to help others. We live at a time of tremendous change. The only constant in this life is change. This book is dedicated to the young, the forgotten generation. Combining research, history, philosophy, religion, and practical knowledge, Doc King Cole attempts to bring Socrates back to life. He beckons us to take the most important journey, the one blocked. The path to power is not through the barrel of a gun, but in the halls of your mind, of your soul.

It was 1973, Nixon had not yet resigned, US troops were still in Vietnam. We had three channels to choose from. Drug use was casual and nobody was getting busted. Gas prices were high as they are know. I remember seeing that Rolling Stones eight track tape in my sister’s boyfriend’s hot rod car. I remember the posters of Zep, Alice Cooper, and the lava lamps. Hendrix stood on a wall all to his own attesting to highs gone too far. Then me and the Bentons down the street decided to get into some trouble.