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.