Father's Day 2016

Late night contemplations. It is 4:14 am. As I lie in bed with my daughter, listening to her deep, sleepy breaths while running my fingers through her curly hair, I wonder... what makes a dad? I mean, I know what makes a woman a "mother" - carrying a baby to term and delivering said baby. But does that make her a mom? Does that make her do the job of raising a child? Does it make her do that job well? I had a child, so I am mother, but do I embody the idea of being an active, fully participating/functioning mom? Likewise, what makes a dad? Some people in my family have a saying... anyone can be a father, but not everyone can be a daddy. Being a father seems to be merely biological, while being a daddy-- that is where the work is.

A daddy takes care of his family; wakes up in the middle of the night to tend to a sick kid; breaks his back to make sure his family doesn't go without. A daddy works multiple jobs (if necessary), is a cheerleader in all aspects of life-- on the field and in the classroom. A daddy always wants to see his children have better than he did. Selfless. Hard working. Sensitive (even if it is secretly). A daddy is not faultless. He battles with his demons daily so they don't interfere with his ability to care for his family. He swallows his pride almost daily. And that is not an easy pill to swallow. It is like eating two thick ass peanut butter sandwiches on whole grain bread and then realizing that you don't have anything to drink. But he does it.

A daddy cries when his kids are hurt-- hurt by a bully, a love or by a fall. His heart breaks when his child can't be understood. He would take the pain for his kid, if he could. He teaches lessons that he had to learn the hard way. He takes the memories of all the times he felt lonely or unloved, and tries to make sure that his child never feels that pain. He is there to softly soothe the heartbroken, comfort the crying, discipline the naughty. He is everywhere without being (terribly) overbearing. He gives his all. He gives his all-- over and over and over again. His sons use him as a measuring stick to determine how to be men. His daughters use him as a gauge to determine what kind of treatment they should be looking for. He demands respect... and he has more than earned it.

I know the qualifications... because I have seen them met first hand. There have been times- many times- when I wished I had a dad that would lay off, not be so demanding or at least not demand my best, 100 per cent of the time. But where would I be if he was lax about his expectations? Truly, I would not be the person that I am today without my dad. I may be a heathen, y'all, but I thank God EVERY day for my parents. I thank God that he gave me a dad that showed me that I never had to settle to be in a relationship; that I am in charge of my own life. I am thankful that I have a dad who respects my mom. A dad who taught me that loyalty to family is the most important thing someone could possess, a dad that brags about me when I am not around... but never lets my head get too big. I'd be lost without him. He is an answer to all prayers for a caring dad. I am glad that my daughter has hubs and Pops to look to for an example of good men. I am glad that my siblings know that when everyone else is against them, mom and dad will always be there. Thanks for everything you do, Poppa Hot, Black and Bitter. We all appreciate you more than you will ever know. Love and hugs!!

Somber Times, Changing Times

Ah, life. Ever so fleeting. The morning after my last post I got a call that I was not expecting and it has truly changed the way that I have been thinking of things lately. On March 8 Lefty and and I were awakened with the news that one of my cousins had passed away, very unexpectedly. These last two weeks have been... indescribable.

I have to say this-- my extended family has been relatively untouched by death. I have friends that lose family members every year, some even every few months or so-- not so with us. The last person in our family that passed away was my sweet aunt and her death was the reason that I moved from Chicago back to my hometown. So, we have definitely been fortunate. But being fortunate in this area makes each loss more shocking. Even more heartbreaking.

I have never really been a very emotional person. I cry when I get ANGRY-- but not really when I get sad. I tend to become very introverted when hit with a tragedy. I am not as vocal as I would normally be-- online or in real life. I am just... less me, if that makes sense. And that is how I have been for the last couple of weeks. I have truly struggled with the death of someone so young (same age as me); someone so integral to our family-- and I am currently making changes in my life to make sure that the time I have becomes the best life that I can make it.

I was asked to speak at my cousin's funeral and I did. It is an honor to stand in front of loved ones and remember great times that you have had, lessons you have learned and events that you will never forget. Listen y'all-- life is moving, full speed ahead, make sure that the life you are living is the life that you want. All too often we live the EXPECTED life, not the one that we WANT.

Below are my remarks from the funeral, may we all continue to rally around one another and keep each other strong...

Hello, my beautiful family.

It is with great sadness that I stand up here and deliver this eulogy for my sweet cousin, Christina. I have spent almost every waking moment since getting that dreaded call last week, trying to make sense of losing someone so early... so unexpectedly. But I can't. There is no making sense of this situation. In a little over a week, I have not come up with one reason why Tina had to be taken away from her daughter, her brothers, Aunt Pam and all of us. There is no answer to the Why.

So what I have decided to do is to celebrate Tina, the life she lived and the impact that she made on all of us. And for me, that impact was significant. You know, most people will tell you that your cousins are your first friends-- especially if you are close in age. Well, there were three of us born in 1977. Born in July, August and October, we spent a lot of time together as kids. And the three of us being so close in age did not help our mothers one bit-- if we were superheroes we would have been known as the Tiresome Threesome. We were into everything as little kids. We were criers, biters and heathen toddlers all at the same time. My first friends. Together we learned some very important life lessons: 1. that being different from one another was ok, 2. that if two of us were guilty we should probably place blame on the one not participating and 3. the most important family rule there is to learn: we can fight & argue with each other, but no one else can fight & argue about one of us. My first friends.

I can't express to you how much I will miss her. How much we will all miss her.

So I am now faced with a different question: How can I honor her memory properly? The answer to that is simple-- for all of us. We can honor Tina's memory by living the best lives that we can, right now, today. Do something that you have always wanted to do; chase your passion, whatever it is; start a new business, travel to every state or internationally. Love this family as much as Christina did: Let's not simply talk about getting together-- let's get together. Let's take care of one another. Be good to one another. Be as giving as Christina was: when she passed, Tina helped saved the lives of people she didn't know-- she was an organ donor... sign up for something like that, volunteer with the Kidney Foundation, the Red Cross, Big Brothers/Big Sisters, become a foster parent. Contribute. Reach out and teach someone else those life lessons Tina helped me learn.

Let today be our new beginning.

I will remember Tina's big smile, great laugh, selfless acts and her amazingly kind heart. Birthday parties in the backyard, mud pies baking in the summer sun, how much she loved her family and how wonderfully sincere she was. I love you. My first friend.

For The Sake of My Siblings

I have nine brothers and a nephew. That is ten, count them, TEN men that could possibly been seen as a threat and ripped away from my family in the blink of an eye. Well, let me revise that statement: I have 1 Black nephew, 1 Bi-racial brother, 7 Black brothers and 1 White brother. In our family, I can honestly say, that the race of my siblings do NOT matter, ah, but here in America, it matters. Looking at the history of our great nation AND the events of tonight, it is easy for me to see that my youngest brother, my White brother, will not have the same lifetime experiences as the others. The way that they are raised will be the same. The consequences for bad behavior in our house will get you the exact same punishment that has been handed out since I was a kid. My parents haven't changed; what is right and wrong hasn't changed, but somehow, my sweet little brother Jonathan has the possibility of being treated like a HUMAN BEING, while, at some point in their lives, that WILL NOT be afforded to my nephew and my other brothers.

Tonight, America has had the real opportunity to see what the justice system is like. Not a Law And Order episode, but real life. The story of Mike Brown could have taken a real turn towards America actually recognizing that Race Relations are not anywhere close to where we want it to me. It could have given hope to those who had lost it; it could have restored some faith in humanity; it could have been a representation of the justice serving those that can do nothing for her (and that is rare). It could have. But it did not.

Let me be clear, for those of you who don't know-- a grand jury has ONE job, it is to say "hey- this is enough evidence to go to trial." That is it. An indictment does not mean that Darren Wilson would be found guilty or pay the price for shooting a Black child in the street and letting his body fester in the August heat. An indictment does not mean that Michael Brown was completely innocent in this situation. An indictment does not mean that race relations would get better in Ferguson. An indictment would simply mean that the state could move on to TRY Darren Wilson in a courtroom. That is all. So when I see that the grand jury could not even muster an indictment, could not even say that "hey, ONE of these autopsies show something that y'all should discuss at trial", or "hey- there is an UNARMED teenager lying dead in the street and maybe someone should be held responsible for that." The fact that they could not even move on to a trial... you can understand how I would be dismayed. Shocked. Angry. Frustrated. Right?!

This case is not about fairness. It is not about protecting a police officer. It is not about ridding society of a leech. It IS about Blackness in America. It IS about the overreaction of police officers when dealing with Black men. It IS about the awful reality that Black children are far more likely to be killed by police officers than their white counterparts and it IS absolutely about the vast majority of Americans closing their eyes- WILLFULLY- to the suffering of their fellow man. Continuously blaming these victims for their OWN deaths. It IS about Michael Brown, Eric Garner, John Crawford, Ezell Ford, Dante Parker and Tamir Rice. It IS. It IS about my nephew, Justus. My brothers: Jeff, Ronald, Frank, Christopher, Tyron, Les, Joshua, Jackson and Jonathan. My father. My cousins. My neighbors. My city. My state. It IS about entire states showing that they don't give a damn about the lives of more than half of their constituency. It IS about the legal system disregarding the rights of the Black and Brown populations. It IS about an entire system which continues to persecute races unlawfully and without remorse.

It keeps me up at night. It makes me worry. It makes me happy that Lefty and I do not have children that would be subjected to this unkind, unfair and unnecessary treatment. It makes me want to hug my brothers and watch them, wherever they go. I am sad, y'all. The people of Ferguson have been done a huge disservice. The state of Missouri SHOULD be in uproar. Major cities that have large minority populations should be epicenters of (peaceful) protests-- even though they don't deal with US peacefully. The Brown family should sue Darren Wilson, the City of Ferguson, the Police Chief, the Prosecuting Attorney and whoever else they can think of for the wrongful death of their son. As of right now, the legal community that I once wanted to be a part of so badly has let me down...again. And not just me... I have nine brothers and a nephew.

Soulful Saturday - The Cranberries

I am not exactly sure why fall weather makes me want to relive my high school days. Maybe it is because it is technically 'back to school' season or something. Could be. Ah well, here I am, up WAY past what should have been my bedtime, singing along to youtube videos of forgotten songs that once brought out teenaged angst. When I was in high school (oh my God, I just totally sounded like the old lady in the neighborhood IN MY OWN HEAD when I read that sentence back... What have I become?!) Back in the olden golden days of the mid 90s, the music was full of rebellion. Grunge was king of the airwaves, there was anger, combat boots and flannel shirts. Marry that with teenage hormones and there you have it, Hot, Black and Bitter, the high school years! One of the bands that regularly made it onto my mix tapes, and in heavy rotation were The Cranberries. Hauntingly beautiful sounds that you would not normally think would come out of a human... and notes that you should TOTALLY NOT TRY to emulate, but I do... every time. Hey, it is good singing... check it out.

Dreams

 


 Zombie


 


 I Still Do


 


Ode To My Family