Origins of the Eclectic Rogue

Welcome to my blog. My name is James Kiazolu Holder II a.k.a The SLIM One a.k.a Jim Holder Jr. a.k.a The K Holder but perhaps most appropriately "the Eclectic Rogue"

This cognomen was bestowed upon me by a classmate and friend during my undergraduate years at The Georgia Institute of Technology. I originally struggled with this nickname, but have recently come to realize that its ironically resolute ambiguity paints a fairly vivid and accurate diptych of the circumstances that compose my life.

I am the son of a businessman and civic leader from Monrovia Liberia and a Southern American woman from LaGrange, GA. I was born in Atlanta GA in 1984 and spent my early years growing up with my parents and two older sisters in Monrovia Liberia, W. Africa. In April of 1990, I vividly remember taking a routine trip to the grocery store not far from our house in Paynesville. There, my mother was alerted to random shootings that were going on in the immediate vicinity. My mom immediately enlisted the help of a cab driver to escort us safely around the turmoil to the house. Later that evening, reports were confirmed that Charles Taylor was on his way into town. Thanks to the help of family friends we were able to flee the country within the week with little more than the clothes on our backs.

On the Sunday afternoon of April 29, 1990 my mother, sisters and I absconded to Robertsfield Airport, not knowing whether we would ever return. We boarded flight 1082 to London's Heathrow and eventually on to our new permanent home in Atlanta Georgia the following day. Life in the States would prove to be one rough adjustment after another. As our family struggled to find a balance, my father worked fastidiously with American supporters to garner help for the Liberian refugee efforts, leaving him very little time to spend with us. Watching the then Minister of the Liberian Chamber of Commerce, Jim Holder, discuss the war efforts on CNNs Headline News provided little solace or consolation for his absence. In March of 1992, not even two years after our escape from Liberia, my father lost a painful battle with cancer at the age of 44. What my father failed to bequeath in finances, he more than made up for in wisdom, strength and a legacy that has been both my greatest privilege and challenge to follow. Imagine that an unlikely string of events, all having taken place prior to and during your first 7 years on the planet, serving as the primary source of inspiration for the rest of your life. I don't have to, this is my life.

This may read like the prologue to a New York Times bestseller, but it is the intro to my story, one about a young man of many homes, interests and ambitions with no money, a little talent, and a great responsibility to do what is right. I'll post the epigraph soon.

Portrait by: Tarrice Love http://loveismyrealname.blogspot.com/