From Bankruptsy to a Millionaire - Twice: a True Story

FROM BANKRUPTSY TO A MILLIONAIRE

TWICE: A TRUE STORY

RON SEARCY

iUniverse LLC

Bloomington

FROM BANKRUPTSY TO A MILLIONAIRE - TWICE:

A TRUE STORY

Copyright © 2014 RON SEARCY.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-2976-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2977-9 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 04/25/2014

CONTENTS

Memorial

Dedication

Preface

Chapter 1: My Early Years

Chapter 2: How I Got Started

Chapter 3: Unexpected Divorce

Chapter 4: Oh No, Not Again

Chapter 5: Doing It Again

Chapter 6: Brain Washed

Chapter 7: Opportunities You Can’t See, Yet

Chapter 8: Overcoming Life’s Bad Times

About The Author

MEMORIAL

To my daughter, Rhonda Lynn Sims Searcy. June 14th, 1974-April 11th, 2013. Daddy’s Tooter Toots.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to the millions of people who just want a chance to show what they can do but, corporate America won’t give them a chance. I want those of you that their inside is burning to make something out of their lives and be somebody, to know I did it and thousands of others without a degree have done it. You can because it’s something you learn how to do plus your unbelievable desire to succeed, you can do it.

PREFACE

There are millions of people living in a free enterprise system throughout the world that, are not doing anything with their life because our system pushes people down instead of, pushing people up.

I wrote this book about things that, I went through in my life and overcame many things that would have destroyed others. I was able to do so, simply because years ago, I read a book that absolutely changed my life.

I am in hopes that, after reading my book, you will realize that, for the most part, education and by education, I mean a college education, has absolutely nothing to do with obtaining wealth.

Early in my life I was physically abused, sexually abused, did not do well in school and was left thinking that, after graduation from high school, I was doomed to be a nobody.

Nine years after reading that book, I became a self-made millionaire, lost all of it and it took me another ten years to gain it all back. While having to deal with some health issues, all I had was stolen from me and I lost it all again.

By reading this book, I hope that it will inspire you and will also, open your eyes to the vast opportunities that are available to people that live in a free enterprise system and also realize that, the only thing keeping you from obtaining wealth is you.

CHAPTER 1

MY EARLY YEARS

I was born in a small southern middle Tennessee town. My parents were raised on a farm but, worked all their lives in a factory. For the first twelve years of my life, my mom and dad rented from someone and when, I was about twelve years old, they were able, because of my mother, to purchase a home that, was about four miles further west from our previous home.

My father has been deceased a little over twenty five years and my mother is 90 years old as I write this book in 2007. I have two sisters. My oldest sister died, unexpected, in 2004. My youngest sister is ten years younger.

My mother is the most loving, caring and considerate person that, you would every want to meet and not because so much that, she is my mother but, because how she has lived her life in front of others. I have often said that if, my mother doesn’t make it to heaven, the rest of us do not have a chance. Yes, she is a Christian woman.

I have no doubt that my father intended to be a good person and as far as lying, stealing, cheating or treating others bad, he was not guilty of any of the above however, he did have an extreme bad temper and as to me, he was very physically and mentally abusive.

I suppose that probably, the reason that I felt worthless and useless, stupid and dumb most of my pre-adult life had a great deal to do with him. For instance, he would try to help me with my homework and when I could not get a certain problem he would blow up on me and call me stupid and dumb, get up and leave. As I attended grammar school and even into high school I barely got by, making very low grades in most subjects. Actually, I hated school. I loved playing outdoors and spent a great deal of time out in the woods and up and down a creek that was nearby in order to stay away from him. My oldest sister was also very abusive to me. She would cause fights and was always bigger than me so, I got the raw end of the deal if, we fought. She would use her nails to scratch me up and I could see the pleasure she got from it on her face. She would also tell my dad lies to get me in trouble with him. I will admit that, I was bad about leaving my Dad’s tools out and could not remember where I left them. I got many whippings from him over that one thing. I remember one night he came in from work (he worked the 2 PM to10 PM shift) and came to my room and jerked me out of the bed and started beating on me and telling me that, he told me to tie the dog. I kept telling him the dog was tied and we went outside after my beating and there the dog lay with the chain to his collar and how he missed the dog at the back of the garage I will never know because he had to drive straight up the drive with his head lights shinning right on the dog. The thing that stuck in my mind was he never apologized at all.

Another time, I had built a playhouse and my older sister was trying to get in my playhouse and I was hitting at her trying to keep her out and she had a popsicle which, was the old kind you freeze in the refrigerator in a little metal cup and put a stick for a handle to hold it and I accidentally knocked the popsicle off of the stick, hitting at her to keep her from getting in and she told my dad and my dad beat me until my back looked liked a black man yet, I am white.

Also I recall, on many occasions, my mother begging my dad to stop because, once he started spanking me, he did not know when to stop. Yet, another time, my dad lost his hair comb and blamed me for it and I got a spanking every morning for over three weeks until the comb was found. One day after getting my daily spanking, I went into the utility room to cry and just happened to notice the comb sticking out in the back pocket of his coveralls where he left it. Again, I never received an apology for that.

I recall very plainly that, until I got married at the age of nineteen (19), I literally hated my dad. His abuse made me feel unloved and unwanted. I do not recall my father ever telling me that, he loved me.

I realized, once that I matured that my dad really did love me and my disgust for him slowly went away after realizing that he really did not mean to be abusive because, otherwise, he was basically a good man so, I was able to forgive him.

When I got out of Grammar school, I had to go from a country school to the high school located in the county seat and again, because I did not make very good grades and the other classmates found out about it, I was made fun of and ridiculed. This, of course, did not help my self-esteem at all.

When I was a sophomore, my english teacher made fun of me in front of the whole class and embarrassed me so much that, I went to a study hall instead and as the principal told me at my graduating year that, I had the distinction of being the only person in the state of Tennessee that took freshman english, junior english, senior english and had to go back to summer school in order to take sophomore english.

After my parents bought the house when I was age twelve, there was a country store about one hundred fifty (150) yards east of our home and soon after we moved, this gentleman built a café onto the store. At that time, he put in pinball machines in the old store part and other gambling devices and did not carry as many grocery items. I went to work for him on a part-time basis and during this time period, he sexually abused me over about a two (2) year period. Now, this is one of those men that was in the church building every time the doors opened.

I might mention that, my father was a very negative-thinking person and was frightened to take any risks whatsoever. I told you this because, to my knowledge, my father never put one penny towards the payment of the home and my mother paid for it through blood, sweat, and tears.

I supposed that my father was what women in this day in time would call a ‘control freak’. It definitely was his way or the highway. For instance, though my father allowed me to go to church with a neighbor each Sunday, he would not allow my mother to go because, he did not like her particular religious group.

Early in their marriage, my mother did know how to drive at one point, but in later years, she did not drive and soon forgot how to. My mother is probably one of the most uncoordinated people that you’ve ever meet in your life and that is the main reason why, I did not teach her how to drive after my father died even though, his car was still there. She got into the car to try and freshen her memory and backed over a swing set. That was the end of her driving. We finally sold the car.

When I was a little boy, around five (5) to seven (7) years old, I started attending church services and Sunday school. No one made me attend, I was