Feeling like Abel at the hand of Cain a loud thunder blast accompanied by frightening streaks of lightening ricocheting throughout his brain as Johnny was riding his old trusted Monarch bike in this recurring dream of ice and dark cold. Eyes of a Dead Man wondering what the World Needed were not clichés, platitudes and pseudo words about love but a cure to make the dead see. Johnny was in his third year trying to matriculate in one of the few universities in the country that truly believed the poor could contribute to a suffering world like a Jonas Salk who took away much of infantile paralysis in a world of suffering and their new home in Burywater stood by the swamps where mosquitoes drank blood. Twelve year old Johnny waited as he wondered if the family would remember that always on the day before Christ was born was his birthday. Johnny heard his name called in an hour of the deepest darkness in the middle of a howling wind. He would not ask for whom the wind howls.
Jerry Vilhotti graduated from the only college that won the NIT and NCCA basketball tournaments in the same year but more importantly than that—Jonas Salk who helped rid some of the world of polio with his vaccine was also given the opportunity to contribute to Mankind and graduated from the same NYC school that’s called in some circles: “The poor man's Harvard”. This and the fact that there was a place of higher learning that indeed gave every race, nationality and creed an opportunity to play in the game of sculpting a better world gives him great joy.