Men, Memories and Family

As I travel across this confused country promoting my novel 'Until Death Do Us Part!', I have had the pleasure and opportunity to meet some very interesting and complex people. October of this year I had the satisfaction of sharing my work with a small group of readers in Detroit, Michigan at the BlackStar Community Bookstore. There I met a very proud African-American grandfather who was spending the day with his grandson.

Watching this quiet thoughtful man introduce his grandson to some of our great authors and their words bought back so many memories for me and my time with my father and grandfather. As these memories washed over me I had to take a moment to introduce myself to this elder and applaud him on his desire to pass on the love and knowledge to the younger generation. As I've preached so many times before, exceptional knowledge, wealth and commitment are generational commodities. And in that I mean rich people are born with the foundation for financial richness from the previous generation, be it life insurance, educational commitment, etc. So I would be lying to say I wasn't totally knocked on my ass when this elder thanked me for the compliment but added that he wouldn't have to be here with his grandson if his son was more willing to be the daddy for his only son and child. I listened intently to the pain in his voice while watching the anguish written in bold black marks across his face as he spoke of the splintered relationship his son has with his own child with the overwhelming question of WHY!!!! I too asked myself - What in the world are we doing as black men to our black boys?

This broken Grandfather continued speaking passionately of the love and commitment he shared with his son as a child, never knowing that these lessons and sacrifices wouldn't be passed on to his grandson. My elder continued his story in detail about the sacrifices he had made for many years to educate, love and teach his son of the importance and need of a man in a Manchild's life. I listened intently and waited for a logical reason for his son's behavior, knowing there is no such thing. His son's verbal and illogical reasoning for not being a responsible parent and role model, for not passing on the commitment and fatherly love went like this - 'Pops, I need to get myself together before I can do for anyone!'

Now, ain't that the stupidest shit you've ever heard?

I have to admit that at that point in our sharing I wanted to throw the fuck up!!!! All of the words I know and writing classes I've sat thru could not grant me with the gift to convey the sickness in my soul I felt at that moment.

Waiting until he's together to be a father! PUHLEEZE!

I consider myself a father in every aspect of the word but am I together? What the hell does together mean? Does together mean having a job? If that's one of the testing points for being together I am failing that job description miserably. I am a casualty of low stock prices and BellSouth's desire to get lean and mean. They gave me my walking papers over three months ago and I'm still searching for my next gig. And for those who don't know, writing and selling your first and only novel is not a real time job or money making venture. But like most brothers, I am a true hustler and my kids want for nothing. Tuition is paid every month. They have clothes on their back and food on the table. Christmas will be visiting my home this year. Does a committed father have to be married or have a good working relationship with their baby's Momma? Again, if that's a must, I'm losing that battle too. I am legally divorced with joint physical custody of all three of my kids. My ex and I communicate as little as possible but that doesn't stop me from working with her on keeping my kids healthy, educated and blessed - difficult as that can be. Getting it together - what a cop out! How many other brothers out here are using that same flimsy excuse for not supporting and loving their kids? Am I a minority in being a divorced father with a strong desire to be a loving participant in my children's life? I am reminded of my minority status every time I write a column like this but my blinders are thick with ignorance. I cannot believe or to be more truthful I don't want to believe the horror stories I hear from single mothers that are the majority when it comes to statistically being the primary caregivers and wage earners. I want to believe that most of my male friends are fighting the fight to be the fathers we dreamed about as kids. But the realities being forced into my consciousness are so hard and now I have to swallow the same edict from a grandfather about his own son. From a man who tried to pass on to his son the teaching of love and commitment to his family. I think I'm going to be sick!

This conversation has opened the door to another nightmare I never envisioned. Is loving and raising my first and only son Logan to be a real man a wasted effort for me? Will my son pass on the discipline, love, respect and attention to his son or daughter by his actions, eyes and mouth? Will the memories and emotions we are building together be demonstrated and passed on to the next generation? Will I wake up one morning and find myself being the caregiver for his son and my grandson? Talk about opening up a can of worms that has never seen the light of day. The questions and doubts are building immense structures in my vivid imagination as I contemplate that drama but I honestly think I'd just kill his ass if he played me like that.

All of this speculation brings me to ground zero and I ask myself what was it about my father's teaching that made me want to be that participatory parent? What can I do now to make sure Logan handles this awesome responsibility? The answers have to be in my past. As I look back on my relationship with my father I believe it has a lot to do with the things he did and DIDN'T do. My father was a major force when I was growing up until my junior and senior years of high school. He believed in discipline, working hard for every dime, not accepting anything less than you were capable of accomplishing. In his mind if you had proven to him that you were an A student, you had better not bring a B into his house. Maximum effort for maximum capabilities! This foundation carried me into the world when he wasn't around after my parents were divorced. My younger brother, who's eight years my junior, swears he never got that foundation from my father. And, I can't argue with him on that. My parents' divorce changed the dynamics of my father's commitment. He never had an opportunity or should I say made the time and energy to build a bond with my brother and my youngest sister. Now, my brother has a daughter and I don't think he's as committed as he should be to her. Born without the marriage license or the love two people need to have when they lay down and conceive a child, my brother and his baby's mama fight often in regards to how much time he can or cannot spend with his daughter. The courts and his stupidity have stripped him of his daily parental rights and he only gets to see his daughter every other weekend. So his degree of commitment is different as a parent. Is he doing the kind of job I think he should - NO! Have I talked to him about it? I talk to him about commitment as many times as I can get his ear. But, part of his issue is his selfishness. His world is more important than his world with his daughter. The selfishness and imperfect prioritization issues I see in him I didn't see in my male icons who I have tried to emulate. So maybe the key is to set the example and expect your child to bring it to the next level. Maybe this grandfather's pain is but a small blip on the screen. I sit here now trying to think of another man's story of abandonment for his seed when given the benefit of love, training and history. I can think of no other.

As I write this horror story I have this overwhelming memory of my grandfather. Poppie as we respectfully called him was my father's father. Another strong man in my family, imperfect in ways as he was perfect in others. Silent, strong and blessed with a beautiful smile he was my hero before I knew what a hero was. When I looked at him I saw my dad as I hope my son looks at my father and sees me.

When I was a kid growing up on the mean streets of New Orleans, I'd get an opportunity to stay at my grandparents' house every now and then. A small four room home as I see it now was a place of warmth and security when I was a child. On this particular stay I was the only one of my siblings to sleep over for the weekend. I was about 9 or 10 when I awoke in one of the two twin beds, eyes not quite open, my senses not yet focused or aware of my surroundings. But the warmth and comfort was unmistakable, even in this state of mind. The warmth was provided by the heat rising from the gas stove with the metal coffee can filled with water sitting on top. My family was always intelligent when it came to making the regular things work for them in uncommon ways. That simple can filled with water provided our home with moisture back in those days. They call that a humidifier now and we pay about fifty dollars for them. My other source of heat was from the heavy covers that wrapped up my skinny body which were not there when I finally dozed off the nite before. I knew instinctively who had tucked me in when I was unable to do for myself.

In the kitchen, which was the very next room, I could smell the yellow grits on the stove and the sound of the fat pork links sizzling in the pan. As good as all of that was the bed and safety it provided was even better, so this little man wasn't moving. I figured my grandmother, who we called Ma (Maw) was up cooking the breakfast as she has always done being the matriarch and silent boss of the family. I was shocked though to hear Poppie's footfalls and soft humming. I pushed the covers away and before I could get my bare feet to the floor my grandfather entered the room. Genetics is an awesome concept that a simple man like me stands in awe of, so to this day when I see my father slowly and deliberately entering a room, I see my grandfather as he walked through his kingdom that morning. As they say the apple never falls far from the tree.

"Boy, you ready to eat?" he asked, smiling that smile I miss so much these days. My grandfather's been dead for almost fifteen years and I still miss him, his stern eyes and pearly white smirk.

Poppie dished up one of the best meals I've had in my forty years that day. If I could explain to you the warmth and closeness I felt for my grandfather, I would be in the running for my Pulitzer. It wasn't the food that made the breakfast so special, it was the conversation I shared with my grandfather. I couldn't tell you what we discussed over the two hours we talked that morning but the love and bonding we enjoyed has been with me since forever. The way he made sure the Saturday morning comics were on for me to see or the loving discipline he showed as he scurried me off to the bath to brush my teeth and wash my face. The bond we shared from setting the breakfast table together and checking out the morning comics could never be duplicated. These were ever present silent gifts given with love and compassion.

Being a daddy, a son and a grandson that my elders could always be proud of has always been about being a responsible and loving father. Responsible in every way possible - as a father for my kids, their future and the legacy I have been asked to pass on. If there was a way I could bottle the bond I've always had with the men before me in my family as well as the love and commitment to my kids and give it away to every man out here who has a child, I WOULD! Can this article touch one man out there? Is it silly for me to believe that maybe the words on this page can change one man's path? Who really knows, but I'm not going to stop trying. I want you to end this moment we are sharing by wanting to build a bond to create the great memories with your kids that will last a lifetime if you don't have them now. I want you to fight for the love and respect that is earned not given. I want the son of that distraught grandfather to wake up and join the battle and take over the role that's rightfully his and raise his own damn son. I want all of the men out here to concentrate on doing homework with their kids every night and not on the current Bimbo of the moment, nightclub opening, sports event or strip club invitation. Accept this challenge and join the crusade to take over in the lives of our children for this is and will be our greatest contribution to this world and future generations for years to come.

School Is In Again!

This article is for all of you vacant Dad’s that are running around doing everything else but helping your baby’s momma raise your children.

Lets start by going over the basics according to ME:

If you are married, engaged or living with your baby’s momma, SOME of this you may not need to read. You’ll know one way or the other by the time you’ve finished this article.For the men out here who have children of school age – 3 and up – and who are not 100% involved in the educational process that’s surrounding your child – Lets get in the game!

Raising an emotionally and physically healthy child in a single parent home is HARD! Raising an educationally intelligent child in a one-parent home is as difficult as trying to climb Mt. Everest in tennis shoes and shorts.

Everyone who’s read any of my past articles know that I have three kids with the oldest two in kindergarten and fifth grade respectively. My almost ten year old daughter attends a public school for the “gifted”. This basically means that she’s testing two to four grades above her age, in all subjects. This also means that she has at least three hours of homework NIGHTLY, including FRIDAYS! The weekends are also setup as the time to complete her special projects.

My son thinks he’s as smart, if not smarter, than his older sister. His homework isn’t as demanding as his sisters but after he finishes the last of his schools work he grabs one of the many workbooks he’s collected from his many visits to our favorite bookstore.

I say all of this to bring you into the real world of a committed and caring parent. This commitment has to be tripled during the school year and if you haven’t stepped up to the plate yet, its time to get in the game. And let me tell you now, this is the only game for a real man to play in. The game book is thick and complex and only the best should try out for a starting position. Here’s a typical day for a true warrior.

My kids and I have to get up at five am every morning since Cree’s bus is waiting for her at 6:30 in the morning. To help with this daily transition we prepare thoroughly the night before – we iron and lay out all of our outfits for the next day, we set the table for the next days breakfast, as well as pack all of the book bags and load them into the car. This a lot of drama for a single parent on a day-to-day basis and we haven’t even talked about the two to three hours of homework that must be done the night before.

Ask yourself a question: Why should one parent have to stress himself or herself out on a daily basis when baby’s daddy or in some rare cases, momma, can jump in and carry SOME of the load. You don’t have to live in the same house with your kids to assume some of the load or to change your schedule so that you can be the educational force behind your child.

I can hear some folks grabbing that negative trash out of the air as they read this because I’ve got a number of e-mails from mothers who don’t want anything to do with their baby’s daddy. I’ve got mail from men who feel like they were deceived and trapped into having a child with a woman that they had no intention of doing more than hitting it one time, just because it was there and available. But guess what folks this shit ain’t about you, your mate, or your one nightstand. It’s about the kids and what’s’ best for them, not you.

Ask yourself these questions:

Who helped your kid with their homework last night?
Have you ever been to your kid’s school and talked to any of their teacher’s?
Do you have any idea how much homework your child has to do tonight?
Are you cooking dinner, ironing clothes, waking up at 5am, going over their projects, and participating in their growth?
Do you want your child to be the best that they can be?
Do you want your child to have many of the opportunities you didn’t have a shot at when you were a child?
And the best question ever asked of a parent – DO you want your child to grow up and MOVE out of your house and never have to come back?
Handle your business and your responsibilities, now! Don’t make or accept any excuses. Fight to be your seed’s father or a mother. Accept nothing less that the title of a full-time, participatory parent.

Different Kinds Of Love But Love Nonetheless

As everyone who has been following my work knows, I have two kids – my daughter, Cree, who’s eight and my son, Logan, who’s three.

Being blessed with two beautiful girls and a busy little boy brings many new complications to my charmed life. Cree, Logan and Chase also have me thinking and feeling things I never imagined. One of the many complications I hadn’t counted on was the different types and degrees of love I have for my son in comparison to my girls.

OK, take a deep breath! You read the last paragraph correctly …. I did say a DIFFERENT kind of love for my son in comparison to my daughters. I’m sure my attitude about my kids and the love I have for them comes as a shock to some folks out here but I am trying to keep this real. My love for them is as different as night is to day!

Now let me try to explain the two totally different types of daddy love I have for my two kids.

Cree is my princess, but to be honest she’s 12 going on 18 one day and an 18 month old baby later that same afternoon. My littlest brat is following her oldest sister in driving me crazy with her girlish drama. My Princesses are beautiful and strong, sensitive and bold. Cree possesses a unique combination of mischievousness and genuine innocence. Chase wants to be her ’mini me’ emulating almost to a tee everything she says and does. With this in mind, obviously my first thoughts for them are to protect and provide. The birth of my daughters and the changes they have invoked in and on my life was an epiphany for me.

From the moment Cree and Chase were born I have tried my best to shelter and love them. Can you say TRIPLE EDGE PROTECTION?! I have spent the first thirteen years of their life having my heart turn flips at the sound of them crying. I have felt outright sick when either girl is upset or disappointed by my actions, every day life situations, dramas or the actions of other family members and friends. I am forever ready to come to their rescue or defense at a moment’s notice, unrealistically trying to protect them from life’s bumps and bruises.

I firmly proclaim to anyone who will listen that my little girls will always have their room in my house - no matter how old they get! To make the contradictions between my actions and my desires a total contradiction I want each of my little ladies to grow up and be very independent women. I want Cree Chase to be women who needs a man for nothing. Women who can buy her own bling, bling! Women who can buy their own cars, houses, and any shiny trinkets either may want. I want Chase and Cree to be able to change a tire and put out their own garbage. In essence I want Cree and Chase to be totally independent but to always know in the back of their mind that Daddy’s is just a phone call away.

Now the way I am raising Logan is as different as night and day from the way I’m raising my girls. Logan has got to leave the house as soon as he gets his high school degree. Eighteen and gone is the theme for my little warrior. Brother’s got to get out of my house, ’cause I’m turning his room into a gym. LOL!! And I expect and demand him to face every obstacle thrown at him head on, back to the wall, face to the wind, knuckles bared and teeth gritted!

I’ve got Logan on the fast track to be out-of-the house, independent and he can’t come back home. I have always heard the old cliché that women raise their daughters and love their sons. I am raising my son first, and the love is a gimme. He will know how to cook, clean, wash and fold clothes and walk-the-walk and talk-the-talk. He’ll be a lot like me. I cook, I clean, and I can even sew if I have to. My son is responsible now, for cleaning his own room and I have him doing as many things as his 7-year-old hands can handle. He helps with the garbage, dishwasher, sweeping and vacuuming. He’ll run outside to work with me without being asked.

I do not see this in women who are raising boys by themselves. I see a bunch of women - NOT ALL WOMEN - pampering and spoiling these young boys, creating the monster they themselves hate. Boys who grow up expecting women to provide for them, to pick up behind them, to make excuses for them when things don’t work out, to bring home their paycheck and go out to purchase them a pair of Nike’s. Logan will have to walk over my cold grave before I allow that drama to take place.

I have been on my own since I was fifteen but that isn’t what I want for my kids. I was forced to start out too early. I want my son to know that he has a home and that he has eighteen years to grow and mature. But I also want him to embrace the concept of leaving home, growing up, and handling his own business. I will let him know he will make mistakes but no mistake is so bad that he will need to come home. Struggling will build character - fighting his own battles will make him strong. I will provide him with the foundation necessary over the next ten years to make it easier for him to never come knocking at my door or anyone’s else.

He will know how to manage his money, bank account and beacon score. When it comes time to buy bling, bling he won’t have to wait till his next paycheck to make it work, unless he’s playing the cash only or not at all game. He will not need a woman to take care of him, clean his house, or help him pay his bills.

I love my son, and I want him to grow up to be a strong black man. I want Logan to be a man who will be role model for independence and self-reliance. I have said on more than one occasion that I am reliving my childhood through him. I know there will be folks saying that you can’t live your life through your kids but I disagree. I am raising my son the way I wanted my father to raise me, and in essence living my life through my son.

I’m raising my daughters to be the women that I think all women should be. Women that can and should stand on their own and can but will always have the protection afforded them by the man who bought them into this world. I’m raising my son to be a true warrior who stands on his own, who will never need to be cajoled into picking up behind himself, never banished from his home because he won’t go to work and earn a living, never frown at the thought of washing dishes, cleaning the house or folding clothes, especially his own. He will also never need to move back into his parents’ home because life has gotten the best of him.

I did say night and day didn’t I?

The Atlanta Journal Constitution Article

In the Atlanta Journal Constitution on Saturday, April 1, 2000 there was an article written by Tony Zizza complaining that the court system is keeping men from being an intricate part of their children’s world. This was the response I submitted.

Don't Blame the Courts, Blame the Parents!
I am a divorced father of two very young kids who was awarded "joint physical" custody, and I don't pay child support.

My ex-wife and I share our kids in a very uncompromising and rewarding way that I think could work for all parents who really put their kids' needs above their own selfish and bitter history.

This month I have my three year old son and eight year old daughter from Friday afternoon when I pick them up from school and day care until Tuesday morning when I drop them back off. Their mother picks them up at day's end and keeps them until Friday morning. At month's end, we swap the days and she'll have them from Friday until Tuesday and vice versa. We also swap holidays and birthdays so that we can both share all of their special events.

This arrangement works for my ex and me because we both believed early on in our relationship that no matter where we ended up as a husband and wife, our kids needed "both" parents to have an opportunity to be complete people. And my career as a father didn’t start when we got divorced. I was a "participatory" father and caregiver before my kids were ever born. I went to all of the Lamaze classes, I made it a point to be at all of the OB/GYN visits, and even after my ex was put on extended bed rest during both pregnancies for months at a time I assumed my responsibilities because I was the one who laid there and helped to create these beautiful kids. I cut both of their cords during the delivery. I bathe and clean my kids and changed their diapers. I woke up at 2:00 a.m. for feedings, I sat with them all night when they were sick and running 102 degree temperatures. I was at the hospital for three days when my daughter came down with a severe stomach virus. I give my son his asthma treatments and have sat up holding him when he had his rough nights. I also cook my kids' meals, wash their clothes, handle most discipline actions when needed and spend a good deal of time helping with homework.

Now this arrangement hasn’t been without its difficulties, but our kids have reaped all of the benefits of my ex and I working together on their behalf. Both of my kids are well balanced and happy. They excel in school, and my ex and I are often complimented by strangers about their sterling behavior and beautiful smiles.

As the father in this unique situation I have heard all of the horror stories about biweekly weekend Dads or MIA sperm donors. I wanted to be neither, and the courts did not force me into being either. When my ex and I first separated, I continued my fatherly duties in my apartment as if nothing had changed. The spousal separation did not mean the end of my parental duties; it actually meant the beginning of an even greater participation.

When the day came that we decided it was time to legally end our marriage, my ex and I argued, fought, and cried about our current mutual child-rearing agreement. We used one lawyer and wrote our divorce stipulations ourselves, always intent on putting our kid's welfare above our own. The judge had no problem agreeing to our divorce request.

So when I read or hear every-other-weekend fathers and absentee sperm donors complain about the lack of visitation and having to pay child support to a woman they can’t stand and to children they never bonded with I have to ask myself – how badly did you want to be a participatory father? Why was it so hard to put your needs, bitterness, and past history with your ex aside to make it work for the children’s sake?

I loved my ex when I married her but that all changed for reasons I couldn’t control. I loved my kids before they were born, today, and forever. This love will continue to make me a compromising and participatory father.

Other men should stop complaining about the court system and take the lead. As my three-year-old son likes to say, handle your business! Fight for the right to be a full time father, build your foundation from the first breath your child takes, give up some of your extracurricular activities, put the bitterness and nastiness you have for your ex aside.

You make it work and the courts will follow your lead!

Wake Up, Brothers and Handle Your Business!

I am pissed! It’s 2:00 a.m. and I have another sister-girl on the phone talking about her nigga or should I say her soon-to-be divorced ex-husband's refusal to pick up "his" ten-year-old daughter for "his" court-appointed time. His excuse this time is that he’s working late. Now it’s bad enough the fool only has visitation rights for two weekends out of the month. That’s four to five days out of the entire month.

Now let me give you some facts that I know as far as this relationship is concerned:

This is a husband and father of more than fifteen years. This brother has been there from day one, when it came to their child. The divorce is something his wife asked for after finding out that her husband has been having an affair with a woman in their neighborhood for more than ten years. This man is also a police officer.

Now he’s straightup missing in action. How the hell do you end your relationship with your child, your blood, your genetic DNA because the world you had with your wife is now over? His wife divorced his ass but his daughter never stopped being his daughter. She never stopped loving her Dad! She’s the one who’s crushed every time this fool breaks their "date".

Am I the only man who can see the difference between problems and issues with the ex- wife and responsibility to children?

No woman or bitter history between two people should stand between a man and his child. Nothing!

Talk to me, people. Tell me what has to happen to get us all to put aside our petty bullshit so that we can support our children. I am tired of men complaining that the mother is a bitch, and she’s keeping him from his child, or some woman crying because she can’t get child support so the bastard ain’t gonna see his kid.

Stop the madness!

All of this shit can be worked through - legally in the court system or through mutual compromises. I’m always willing to be the middleman if the two parents involved can’t talk together. I challenge all of my readers and friends to offer the same support for their friends and families. Be the mediator. Intervene. Be unselfish for the sake of the children.

I want to talk to this fool. I want him to explain to me how anything else can be more important than the four or five days he has to spend with his seed. I’ll keep you all posted, and I want to hear your side if you’ve found yourself in the same predicament.

One other thing. When you do have visitation, it means you have to spend time with your kid. Not your girlfriend, not your mother and father, not the weekend day care center. I hope I ain’t wasting my words here. If we can do this one child at a time, one event at a time, maybe we can save a few kids some unnecessary drama. Let’s not make Guy’s "Why You Wanna Keep Me from My Child" a real life story. And if you ain’t seen that video, you missing some serious tear jerking shit.

Take care of the kids, and keep ya' head up!