Chronicles of a Single Father

60,000 Minutes...

2011-08-17T10:54:00.005-04:00

It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. The kind made for the most tranquil of naps. The kind where the sun played stop and go - hinting that it would emerge from the gloomy clouds just until you reached the door, at which it seemed to comically speed back to its overcast state. The boys stood looking through the patio door...waiting...wanting. So did I. I waited to be swept away into Dreamland while suggesting we play the quiet game on my favorite couch. What I wanted was REM sleep!

It was magical! I'd somehow entered a new and wonderful place. There were balloons and talking dogs. It all felt so real. Just as magically, hot breath began to form on my left eye lid causing me to turn my head just enough to catch what was later said to have been as a whisper.

"I'm bored...my knee hurts."
"Which knee?" I said with my eyes still closed.
[Pause]
"My elbow hurts"

The chuckles in the background were not amusing. Having been sitting around watching the movie UP, the kids had found a way to become bored and turned their attention to the old guy faced-down on the couch. While I didn't find their afternoon antics Kevin Hart like, I did understand. I understood that they needed a hobby to act as a sort of diversion. Preferably one that took their attention away from me!
It was then that I sat up and had them turn off the TV. Wiping my now damp eye lid gave way to more chuckles until I asked a simple question. "What is it that you want to be when you grow up? You can be anything. Go!" I could almost see the possibilities swimming through their minds. Because I asked them this often, they must have prepared themselves because in unison they proudly replied..."We want to make shoes!"

Now that was a new one for me and I immediately felt compelled to avert their sweat shop dreams- and quickly! "How about you design them, I said." Simultaneously their mouths dropped open as one mentioned his perceived inability to draw. It was then I repeated to them one of the most profound notions I'd ever heard. The boy was just standing there with his head hanging low when I said, "Take my shoes off boy!" With him looking down, I'd noticed him standing on the back of both my only pair of good church shoes!

Then I said, "In order to be considered a professional at anything, it's been studied that you need to practice for 10,000 hours or 60,000 minutes." I continued, "Whether its sports or simply drawing, a dedication to your craft will get you to where you want to be." Having read this in a recent book, I relied on its statements and their scientific study to prove my point. Now it was time for them to prove it to themselves. I had them gather tons of paper and begin designing.

From the beginning it was clear that the boy was justified in hanging his head. His first concept design looked like a sort of geriatric corrective ape boot! Then something amazing happened. The more time they put in, the better they got! After what seemed to them like hours, they ran back to me and proudly displayed their designs. I must say - I was impressed. They'd come a long way from their early Air Primate designs to footwear I'd actually like to wear.

After explaining to them that they had come so far after only twenty minutes, I couldn't wait to see what they'd do after another 59,980 minutes! By the time I awoke, their rooms were covered in concept ideas. Taped on the walls, mirrors, and beds, they'd clearly become inspired by this notion.

In all...it was a perfect Sunday night. The kind made for the most cramped of hands. The kind where I admired their work as I tucked them into Dreamland. There I stood...waiting...wanting... So I did. After reaching over to whisper good night, I breathed on their eye lids the hottest of breaths just before tucking them in. Then, reaching the doors to their rooms, I turned to "whisper"..."My fingers hurt!" They were not amused.

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
Miracles and Blessings
Tron

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The Weight of your Words...

2011-07-22T06:57:00.001-04:00

I had to be about five years old before I had ever noticed it. Before it dawned on me that our conversations weren't like most. That according to "snot-nosed" Craig, our dialogue seemed both weird and unusual. This epiphany came after hearing "Snot's" play-by-play full color commentation with "Pee-Pee" Johnson of our same circle. In my whirlwind of enlightenment, it was perhaps as baffling to them as opening a Capri-Sun pouch. To me though, our conversations had always been, on all accounts, as normal to me as watching Saturday morning cartoons in only my "tighty whities." It was all I had ever known. You see, our oddity was that our conversations always went the same way - ALWAYS! Almost as if it had been ordained by the Intergalactic Conversation Committee (ICC) on Earthly Salutations when they unanimously voted it in with the "brother" handshake and dap. It was something all to our own - almost as unflappable as my "tighties." It was my father telling me that he loved me...habitually!

No really. It's to the point where it keeps happening to this day. It's what we do and what I hope Snots and Pee-Pee picked up as adults. You see, even though my father didn't understand that bleached super hero undies were never cool, he did understand the power of his words. That his words carried a sort of weight - a weight given substance simply by our relationship. A weight so heavy that if yielded incorrectly, could be so heavy as to break our own jaw!

In understanding this power myself, I've come to several conclusions. The first is that we should always speak in Pee-Wee Herman voices because five years olds find it gut busting for some reason, and secondly, that I had to continue this tradition upholding the now generations long ICC declaration. I don't know but a child hearing their father tell them he loves them does something. It validates them and sets the stage for an understanding of what real love is. Don't deprive them of that. Tell them you love them and last but not least...help your kids open up that Capri-Sun pouch. It's basically a Rubix cube for preschoolers and they're thirsty. Speak life in full color!

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Summer Break - "Look Ma - No Class..."

2011-07-12T16:22:00.001-04:00

Look Ma - No class! It's mid-summer and the pools are open, the grills have been broken in, and the air conditioning has no doubt began its seasonal overtime schedule! As a kid, I remember this time being a most joyous and magical time! Summer camps and freeze-pops along with chasing lightening bugs and late nights. While these pastimes are still around today, our children have the inclusion of many more cable TV options, the internet (well a faster one), and Nintendo's on steroids!

With all this though, I came across a recent study that seemed to spark up all this nostalgia once again. In it, I learned that this is the season where class (as in income status) was proven to be a huge factor in the educational advances of the students in each of these classes. What this study found was that during the year, no class of students exhibited a learning curve greater than the other. But, in the summer time, the advancements between the classes became quite apparent. Upon returning from these chlorine wading, lightning bug infested, and game overdosing binges, school children were given the same standardized tests as they took on the last day of school. What they found was that, on average, lower class students had lost ground and actually lowered their reading scores while the middle and higher class students experienced modest and highly marked advancements respectively. Advancements that put the lower class children at a habitual seasonal disadvantage - catapulting the upper classed students into talented and gifted distinctions that further set them apart from their peers. Advancements that later opened the doors for more opportunities seemingly unreachable to those same peers.

So...what was the difference maker? Was it the fact that just being categorized in a higher class made their kids smarter? Was it because they could afford the latest game consoles? Was it due to the varied types of chlorine the children swam in or perhaps the brand of freeze-pops they ate?

Nope.

The difference was reading - that's it. On average, the higher the class, the more prevalent was the emphasis made on reading at home during this time. So apparently, money isn't as nearly magical as reading! I say, "Don't let the summer break handicap our children." Let's pass this wealth onto them because opportunities and a joyous future await! Don't be fooled. Class is in and this time, more than any, determines which class they belong to in the future.

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Success - Switched at Birth...

2011-07-09T11:53:00.000-04:00

The boy didn't have a fever and there were no visible bruises on his head - I checked. He also didn't misunderstand the question because it was explained. Yet, when questioned on what my boy wanted to do when he grew up, he answered in full illustration that he wanted to "jump off a roof with a trash bag!" While I often tell this story and you may have heard it before, the image of this always jars me as it doesn't seem at all plausible at ending positively! Since that time though, I've learned that at that very moment, success to him meant the achievement of a thrill - a possibly fatal one - but a thrill none the less.

Whether we'd admit it or not, the measure of success in life differs from person to person. Some associate it with wealth, others education, some a social plateau, and even more - fame. What this means to me is that success can be measured on a multitude of scales but where does it come from? How is the very idea of it birthed? More importantly though, how do we assist with cultivating a proper idea of success in our children to mean other than the perpetually promoted money, cars and clothes?

Growing up in a culture promoting such ideals, I learned that our culture portrays success differently from other cultures and from what history reveals it to be. Different from what the characteristics of the fruits of success actually resemble. I've also come to the conclusion that culturally, the idea of success in our youth has been, on all accounts, switched at birth. One that sets us on a path that, once achieved, leaves us empty and used with often fatal results. One that as parents, we need to recognize and correct if we ourselves should actually deem ourselves a success.

As we grow, we can't help but notice that our perspective of success changes. This is because we're exposed to more, the doors of opportunity open and/or close before us and we learn that what we first thought would buy us joy declines to do so. With that point, I argue that the birth of true success is in the acknowledged importance of one's true cultural legacy. Understanding that in the end, it's your positive contribution toward uplifting a culture that leads to fulfillment and true success.

So what does this mean? It means that as parents, success for us is communicating to our children what their legacy consists of. In addition, we must realize that the qualities that determine success are not simply IQ scores, talent, and class, but most importantly opportunity and environment. Realize people that WE are their environment and with enough effort, we can provide them with more than ample opportunity to have them - once it's all said and done - deem your efforts a success. I say let us first educate ourselves about what true success is and then provide our children with a full illustration of its fruit. Success switched at birth??? Check for bruises and let's get our babies back!

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Pride and Joy...

2011-06-18T20:28:00.000-04:00

It was a random drearymorning at an even more random hour. A time before the sun had yet beenappointed to rise. I sat there baffled as to why I wasn't dreaming myusual dream of making the Hulkster tap out from a perfectly executed"figure four leg lock." She sat there gazing at me with thesehuge watering eyes, obviously not dreaming at all! While I was baffled asto why this was, what I did know was that she was no doubt angry. So muchso that she let out a cry of so epic proportions that it seemed an incapablefeat from a growing infant. Given the hour, a few solutions immediatelycame to mind. Pacifier? Check! Clean diaper? Check! Milk warmed bythe magic bottle warmer thingy always present bedside? Check! So, with my wealth of baby soothing knowledge totally exhausted, we walked. Well...I walked as she kind of squirmed and laid awkwardly in my arms withevery pace down the hallway. Till this day, I remember it being somewherearound the 1,474th pace that the sun began to rise and she must have begandreaming of whatever babies dream of. I imagined baby "legdrops" from the bottom rope! As I laid her down on her side of thebed, snuggled in this wedge contraption, seemingly deemed the capital of thissort of baby Green Zone, her eyes opened and she wailed up again.

Today, she stood at the bottom of the stage,waiting to ascend its steps for the purpose of graduating the eighthgrade. Today, I stood with watering eyes as I snapped awkwardly angledpics of her exiting said stage. For me, the reason why I felt this waywas no mystery. I was simply filled with pride and joy. In fact, 13years and countless paces of it! Next, I watched as she accepted myflowers, but only after brushing back her hair and smiling a smile as radiantto me as those sunrises we once experienced together.

Apparently though, I wasn't alone. As wesnapped away with our cameras, I noticed a gazing boy and fellow graduatepossibly attempting to grab her attention. Instinct said to take my manynights of training and make him tap out with that surely perfected "figurefour leg lock" maneuver! Quickly though, I drifted back to differenttimes. I drifted to thoughts of those 1,474 paces, those random drearymornings and even more random hours before the sun had yet been appointed torise. It shifted to my...pride and joy!

Make it rain...

2011-02-15T08:00:00.000-05:00

As the kids and I headed home in the evening from their daily martial arts instruction, my youngest son made a formal suggestion that we spend our evening eating at the local Hibachi steak house. Note that this was without prompting or any insinuation. Also note that this...WASN'T going to happen! In fact, my answer was blurted out in my deepest Barry White voice - mid stutter of his pronunciation of hi-ba-chi! You see, when this frivolous request saw fit to exit his lips, it brought to my attention how disconnected he was from the cost of well...everything. So...to continue with my theme..."I had a lesson that I wanted to teach" and I was gonna no doubt..."practice what I preached!"

Of course we all know what happened next. All the "why's" and the "how comes," along with the "you never's," and pleadings followed. Luckily these all served as perfect introductions to my dissertation on how they would all begin learning the lessons of financial responsibility that day! Needless to say, I had a rather entertaining car ride home as I explained that "I WOULDN'T do for THEM anything THEY wanted me to!"

Later, as I stood over the stove concocting my famous marinated chicken and vegetables over spiced Ramon noodles, I broke out the Monopoly money kit and announced the opening of the Mason bank. Just imagine the jubilation that took root in the kitchen as I handed out ones and explained to each of them that this money serves as "real" bank notes that they could trade in for real cash! Each child's reaction was different. My 13 year old thought it a good idea if nothing more than to test my word. My 9 year old immediately began calculating how many weeks it would take him to buy that dirt bike he always wanted. And my 6 year old...well...offered to make it rain at the Hibachi table!

Over dinner that night, I gave them a "Money 101" of sorts on the history of it, why it exists, how it works, and what it should mean to them. Careful not to make money their motivation, I valued certain chores and put premiums on acts of good behavior and personal responsibility. After our conversation, my youngest became decidedly against any and all variations of "raining" and thought twice about trading in his Mason money for Skittles even!

To date, I must admit that they are much more appreciative than they were before and think twice about any activity they take part in. Now while I supply their needs and the occasional splurge, they understand just how many bed makings it takes to have the chef frivolously toss their shrimp onto the floor! Funny how I no longer have to answer all those "why's" and "how comes," along with the "you never's," and pleadings! You should see their faces when we do go out and I flash the bill that they don't have to pay. Then they know that "It's only love doin' its thing!"

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Paper Memories...

2011-01-25T10:30:00.000-05:00

So what does it mean when things are no longer the same? When your visions of what's supposed to be are trapped, only to be resurrected with the periodic glimpse of a picture. What do you do when you're 13 years old and your reality is left to deal with the separation of your “everything?”

As she handed it to me the smile on her face beamed. "Dad," she exclaimed, "Here is a picture of me and my aunt in New York City!" Coupled with this came stories of their visits to famous landmarks and shows in the Big Apple. Her excitement couldn’t be contained and at first glance, her face said it all. But at second glance however, I had been ignorantly mistaken. Noticing the perforated edges of her paper memory, I felt the creases and cuts, the bends and its curves. Oddly out of place, they presented a story of their own. The story of what a 13 year old did when things were no longer the same.

Having eyed these inconspicuous oddities, it was clear that this picture was not like any other. It was then that I gleaned a bit of insight into not only what her paper memory meant to her but…what she thought it meant to me. Imagine the sinking in my heart when I noticed that she had saw fit to conveniently cut her Mom out of the picture.

Now while this wasn't done out of any anger or spite, discontent or malice, her response to why she would do such a thing made its own lasting impression on me. "I knew you wouldn't want her in it Dad," she said.

In that one moment I felt every cut, bend and sharp edge of her reality. I felt her hurt and her attempt at healing. See, what she wanted to do was protect me. Realizing the pain I felt but…just as I, ignorantly mistaken. "Beautiful," I said. "This is not something I want. This is not something I find acceptable and most of all, this is something that I never want to see you do again."

In the end, I had to explain that while our memories no longer represent our reality, our new realities bring forth new and unexpected hope. That this new hope can only be obtained when we accept our current circumstances for what they are. That this same hope cannot be obtained when we falsely imagine that parts of our reality cease to exist.

As we sat, I imagined her trapped between two loves - both of whom she wished to protect…for this is what she did when things were no longer the same. So what will we do? I think it fitting that we would, together, resurrect that picture and continue constructing a totally brand new “everything!”

Attitude...

2011-01-17T07:13:00.000-05:00

It never has been a group of boys quite like us! The twelve of us made our way to the hardwood laden court dribbling frantically in single file while sporting golden thigh high shorts, tight fitting blue jerseys and artery collapsing biker shorts. Our sport was basketball and we...we were mean! No really, not a euphemism here- we really were mean! With us, I have no recollection of smiles nor fun to be had, only faint sounds of Go-Go beats emitting from our Walkman head phones when gathering. Each clanging beat infecting our psyche, laced with the occasional expletive spoken too fast to be deciphered by our parents ears. When we played, I remember no high fives, or teammate encouragement, only our best fraternity mug faces displayed toward the bench of our opponents. We were simply, Menace II Society influenced...80's babies!

Fast forwarding my cassette tape to today, this group of boys before me stand draped in long flowing shorts and fresh loose fitting jerseys. Here, no one knows what biker shorts are or why one would consider wearing them at all -and these kids...these kids are good! No really, they blow out teams like birthday cake candles- and they throw parties weekly! With them, there are no mugs, only smiles and faint whispers of the mass prayer being said as everyone gathers before the game. No evil stares, only high fives and love. They have fun and they are simply...High School Musical influenced- "turn of the century babies!"

So this leads me to ponder the difference between us and them, the 80's babies and these "turn of the century babies," I mean. Aside from the obvious win/loss differential, the fit of the jerseys and the length of their shorts, there seems to be one fundamental and dynamic difference. But what is it?!?

Having had the opportunity to gain a little length in my tooth, I've seen how generations attempt to dissociate themselves from their parents time. If they wore tight pants, we wore them backwards and baggy, if they preferred suits, we fancied T-shirts. If they played Frankie and Beverly, we played" Ni@@a's with Attitude! Wait...that's it! It was starring me in the face like a bad episode of Scooby Doo! The difference is attitude!

With these group of kids, they seem to understand that attitude makes all the difference. That while winning is fun, the real prize consists of which color Capri-Sun they'll be handed after the game! For they stand firmly on the promise that cookies and/or fruit snacks cometh no matter the outcome.

Realizing this allowed me to better my understanding in how "Kris-Krossed" we actually were as a generation. That it might do us some good to imitate the "musical ones!" Wait...I'm not saying wear skinny jeans or anything because that's embarrassing but imitate them in realizing what the real prize is at the end of the day. That the Sun comeths another day shining its favor on us yet again. That our game isn't yet over nor our candles been snuffed out! That we have another chance to get it right!

So, I challenge all my 80's babies out there to take note of their own attitudes and ways of the past and play this game of life with the best attitude you can. There's a whole generation watching...and them seeing you all disgruntled in your thigh high shorts, tight fitting jerseys, and artery collapsing biker shorts is not a good look! It never has been!

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

Dream Warrior...

2010-12-29T08:25:00.000-05:00

So what is it that everyone gets but no one wants? What is it that leaves you shaken with fear and wishing for a return to the bleakest of realities? Well nightmares of course! Dreams that increase our heart rates and leave us sucking our thumbs in the fetal position (Don't judge me). Now while I can't remember the last time I've had one, I can certainly remember the last time my boy did.

As it stood, the youngster awoke in a cold sweat uttering words incomprehensible. He then stared at me as he incoherently made his way back to reality. "I had a bad dream," he muttered. Clearly he was shaken and I thought it time we had a little talk. A talk about my theory on how dreams can be controlled. How I, after days of being chased by the most heinous of villains, the Hamburglar and Grimace "Mcduo," I turned and executed a flawless roundhouse kick to the kisser of the husky one! Since then, sleep has never been so sweet!

As for the boy, he looked at me in amazement as I told my story and his eyes widened in disbelief. "No you didn't Daddy!" "Why sure I did, just give it a try next time." I don't know, but he seemed pretty amped as he brushed his teeth that morning. I must admit, I "man beat" my chest confident that I had empowered the youth to master his dreams - to lead a thumb sucking and fetal position free slumber for the rest of his days!

But wait, out of the blue, a scuffle ensues as his older sibling sleepily walks into the bathroom and blocks an awkwardly executed surprise roundhouse effort to his face! Apparently his brother had been the midnight antagonist that provoked said cold sweat! Unfortunately, the youngster must have misinterpreted my awesome advice and wanted to put an end to it immediately! This was unexpected and of course prompted the need for even awesomer advice! "Son, hear me and hear me good. If you can dream it - you can do it! But rearranging the order of my advice could leave you unprepared and experiencing something you really don't want. Something like a counter punch to YOUR kisser leaving YOU in the (yep - you guessed it) fetal position!"

Now friends, while this story has a lasting impression for me, hear my words and hear me good! This is not about nightmares nor is it about the condoning or promoting of assaults against chubby folks in giant furry puppet suits! What it is about however is challenging our kids to dream BIG (in reality) and confidently facing their own personal "McDuo's." Because while no one wants them, we all have them. So...take this awesome advice and empower them with the ability to envision their futures and immediately take the steps necessary to turn their dreams into a dreamy reality! I guarantee - their sleep will never be so sweet!

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

Beautiful...

2010-12-27T07:21:00.000-05:00

It's Christmas morning and my daughter, whom I often refer to as simply "Pretty," has a hand full of iTunes gift cards. To her, each credit seems as an ounce of gold bullion burning the envelopes in which they came! So what piece of digital gold would she capture in her iPod on this day? What songs, videos, or movies would she choose? Well...being the blossoming musical connoisseur that she is, it wasn't long before I found out.

You see, Pretty came to me in excitement to show me her new purchase. It twas Keri Hilson's "Pretty Girl Rock" video. Needless to say, my lips were firmly pressed as I managed a smirk. See, while I wasn't particularly familiar with this song or most of her work, I had been shown her prior infamously disappointing piece of..."art" video! At this point my interest had no doubt been peeked! What kind of digital artistry was this and why had my Pretty deemed it worthy of her fathers' attention?

While watching the video, I could see her looking at my expressions in an attempt to gauge my thoughts and read my mind of sorts. This brought back memories of my own childhood when I'd covertly slip in my Fresh Prince "He's the DJ, I'm the Rapper" cassette tape as we made our way across town in the family minivan! In a way, I'd hope for my parents to pick up on what I thought mattered to me. Aware of this, I was careful in my facial expressions and comments.

In the video, Ms. Hilson began to express her vanity, blurring the lines between being pretty and beautiful. After the video I thought- what ways could I clarify those boundaries? What ways could I explain that they are not the same? How beauty is from within and being pretty is superficial. How it's prettiness that attracts but beauty that both attracts and burns a lasting impression. How pretty fades and beauty matures. How Ms. Hilson was no doubt pretty but whose beauty gave off a certain pungent "artsy" odor!

By the time our brief discussion ended, Pretty expressed her understanding while I explained that her beauty is not fleeting. How it is as gold bullion and not to be compared with something as common as the gift of being pretty. On this day - I changed my reference to her because she is simply "Beautiful!"

Join in with me all, let's get to know their interests and teach our "Beautiful's" this important difference as the Hilson's of the world teach otherwise. Teach them how to be beautiful and accent the pretty. Then they really will "rock!"...And besides, we can't have them going around saying that us "Parents Just Don't Understand!"

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Ode To My First Love...

2010-12-01T13:58:00.000-05:00

She was much taller than I was and definitely different y’all.

I mean the first time I stroked her hair - I got this feeling that I couldn't explain.

Maybe it was the sound she made.

See the first time we met was after school –just her and I

but she always showed me love whenever I popped by.

Man...I was addicted at like eight!

Totally satisfied that she would be my fate.

I mean...I remember it like it was yesterday!

She wore these beads and they were like neatly threaded through her locks and loops but most days she was plain and draped nothing at all -

but my feelings didn't change cuz she had her eye on me still yall!

Then I found out that "erybody," even the big boys had the same feelings as me

and some days when I came to school she'd be battered a bruised,

and said nothing at all- my first experience with abuse.

Some said the damage was done with their shoes???

Whatever the story though, she always seem to breakaway free,

What kinda games these dudes play with her Geez?

I had no idea cuz I wasn't a big boy and my momma told me don't do big boy things.

Even still though...sometimes I saw her bound in chains

and my goal was simply to rip them off!

I daydreamed about her so much in class I nearly dropped the ball!

Now time has past and we often still speak,

and her voice still sounds the same- still sweet!

I still even have dreams of her draped in those chains.

And now my son is dreaming of the same thing!

It's awkward...like...do I introduce her as an old friend cuz she jive did me wrong?

I mean I ain't mad but she left me hurt,

On top of that…some of my homies even pimped her.

For me- I really can't lie though, she taught me how to be a man in ways I never imagined-

things like never giving up and shooting for the stars-

do it right and you get all the money, clothes and cars.

Now my boy says that he wants to meet her cause…

he heard her voice once too and felt her chains,

and forever wanted to free her of that same perceived pain.

***endless cycle I know*** Then I explained –

that this here son is not just a game.

See…don't get it twisted, I don't want to present him as myself to her,

only that he takes the experiences she gave to me from her.

Son---don't let her use you, you use her!

Cuz she's one of those girls I call fast-

nothing but a tall orange hoop with nets and a big …glass.

Vitameatavegamin...

2010-11-12T08:11:00.000-05:00

Hello friends. I'm your Vitameatavegamin girl. Are you tired, run-down, listless? Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular? The answer to all your problems is in this little bottle. Vitameatavegamin. Yes, Vitameatavegimin contains vitamins, meat, vegetables, and minerals. Yes, with Vitameatavegamin, you can spoon your way to health. All you do is take a great big tablespoon after every meal. Mmmmmmm.....It's so tasty too! Taste just like candy! So why don't you join all the millions of happy peppy people and get a great big bottle of Vitameatavegamin tomorrow! That's Vita-meata-vegamin! (wink)

If you didn't know, the above is a transcript from one of my favorite television scenes of all-time. In this scene, Lucy pimps a vitamin product that just so happens to be 23% alcohol and eventually ends up drunk. In the end, she slurs her words and "pops out at parties!" While no doubt hilarious, an unintended bit of wisdom can be gleaned here. Let me explain.

Having had the opportunity to grow up in the church, I was afforded the opportunity to see the lives of many play out right before my own, saved or otherwise. While certainly not all, it's my experience that a very high percentage of individuals choosing to take a different path other than Christ seem less fulfilled than others and thus, at times, "Pop out at parties!"

This suggests to me that we should take into account the results of our actions and chosen lifestyles and assist in identifying end results to our children. This enables them to make better choices for themselves as they mature. So as the Bible teaches, "There is nothing new under the sun." Because this is so, it gives us the advantage to utilize wisdom in our own decisions by analyzing the end results of the lives of others.

My advice- follow Christ and train these children while they're young to do the same. Have them put their confidence not in a great big bottle but the great big book whose ingredients are answers, healing, wisdom, and foresight. Not doing so could have greater consequences than slurring your words. Oh...and stay away from Vitameatavegimin too! It'll make you un"poop"ular! (wink)

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Inappropriate...

2010-10-27T08:32:00.000-04:00

You know...some things in life are just down right inappropriate. Take for instance calling an obese person fat or whispering loudly with proclamation that the nearby smoker is going to die! Somber enough right! Well how about hearing your son respond with "C'mon Slim," when you tell him to dispose of the Push-Pop before bed. Or... on a more infamous level, "Kanyeezy" taking the microphone from Taylor Swift on that faithful night! The list goes on and on but you get the point. Inappropriateness (as sometimes combined with tactlessness) is all around us and it's up to us parents to make sure that our kids "don't end up fix'n their lips like collagen!..."

Now imagine my surprise when my six year old blurts out this word "inappropriate" as I caught the tail end of his conversation with his brother. Who did it and what's this inappropriateness you speak of? Lost in my thoughts of which obscenity they must be confused about THIS time, the boys began to bicker. "Dad," my youngest inquired, "Would it be inappropriate of me to ask my friends if they still ride in car seats?"

After chuckling and getting over the fact that he'd uttered his only five syllable word other than Nickelodeon in speech, I had to explain to the boy what it meant.
I mean...this was an important concept! Appropriateness could mean the difference between getting that huge contract he's bidding for in the future or simply standing against the wall for shooting spit balls at lunch in the very near!

"Son, something is inappropriate when it doesn't fit the social norm at the time. At some times certain activities are appropriate and at other times they aren't." It was then I realized that my own definition may have been a little shaky. I mean, it's so subjective -all this being "apropos." With that thought, I recalled a speech given at Princeton that I'd recently heard touching on a similar subject.

You see, as it was mentioned, we are all given special talents and gifts in life. Some can sing, some are academically gifted, and some can, with pinpoint accuracy fire spit balls across the lunch room! No matter the gifts or talents however, it is our choices, whether in speech or action, that's the most important. This because "it's harder to be kind than it is clever or talented."

So what's the remedy...how can we deKanye our kids??? Honestly, I guess it just takes time and taking advantage of plenty of teachable moments with them if they are going to be successful at it. Now that's one of the best pieces of advice of all-time!

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Total Transformation...

2010-10-08T07:09:00.000-04:00

So I was listening to the radio the other day and this ad went on and on about this new product called the "Total Transformation." A child behavior modification program for defiant child behavior problems like "oppositional defiance" disorder and all around disobedience. In layman's terms, a behavior system taught by some random gent that guarantees to change your kid's bad attitude in no less than six seconds!

What a concept I thought. To say the least, I was no less than intrigued! It birthed in me all kinds of marvelous thoughts. Perhaps it was simply a set of specific verbal commands that penetrated the unyielding psyche of young ones on some Jedi mind control level? The possibilities are endless! I could use it on any two year old I saw embarrassing themselves by yelling and screaming at their parents while lying prostrate in the pasta isle or, at the very least, freeze my kids right before they get into a sibling tussle! If not those abilities I thought, perhaps it was that titanium laced leather strap with custom hand grips that Santa never brought me!?! Whatever it was, why wouldn't any parent want this product for their children?!?

In an instant, as if their lives were flashing before my eyes, I began to think about the issues of our kids today, specifically my kids though. Like the time I heard one of them fail to address an adult without the preferential "no mam/sir," or the time when I swore I heard heavy footsteps up the stairs and then extra force as the door closed! Now at the risk of sounding a thousand years old...I think that the problem with kids today is that they don't have the same respect for adults anymore. A certain (how do you say...) reverence is missing. A reverence to which I personally desire from them and that had me almost picking up the phone and contemplating making a 1-800 call. Was I this desperate?!?

See, what I want is to revert back to a time where kids didn't invoke their rights to a lawyer while being questioned about who stole the cookies! A time when kids were respectful...and equally ignorant, blindly going around doing exactly what you told them to do. A time when they didn't look you in your eyes and say that they were gonna tell Grandma!

After giving it some thought though, I realized that I was given the secret a long time ago but had only failed to invoke it. See what you have to do is let them know when they're young. Young like, two seconds old young, still slippery young! What they really need is a good smack right after birth - let 'em know that no stuff will be taken! (Doctors had long prescribed to this notion but no longer perform this duty for whatever reason) Now, we're forced to do it ourselves (not recommended) or dial a 1-800 number to gain back our respect! Kids just loose to run wild in the streets, disrespecting the timeout and the street light! This is why, America, ***In my Obama voice*** that I've proposed a plan, now on the floor of the Senate, that calls for a nationwide crackdown on newborns all across this great nation of ours!

To be serious though, we as parents must do our due diligence and "train our children the way they should go," and it's gonna take more than six seconds to do it. It's long painstaking (this is gonna hurt me more than it is you) diligent work. In all reality, while there is a "Total Transformation" that needs to take place in the attitudes of our kids, the real transformation starts with us, the parents. See, what I really want is for us to go back to a time when parents disciplined their kids and didn't rely on teachers and the media! So with this, I lay two fingers on my temple, squint, and command you to transform your own thinking...and pick that two year old up out of the isle! You're embarrassing US!

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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School Daze...

2010-09-03T07:14:00.000-04:00

Well friends, school is back in session and the routine begins once more. The early morning hygiene roll calls, the "I have nothing to wear" rants, and the "Can I sleep a little longer" pleadings! So with my oldest going into the 8th grade this year, I recalled a story from my 8th grade days as I walked her to the bus stop. It was one that brought to my remembrance how it might feel for my daughter on her first day. For me, my first day of 8th grade was a day that I'll never forget and hopefully for her, a much better ending.

To begin, I headed to the bus stop that day ready for school! With Digable Planets blasting in my Walkman, my hair was freshly faded (with a Mike Tyson part of course), my DDTP shirt was properly over sized and my Guess jeans were well...baggy! All seemed well right? Wrong! Why? My shoes were busted! Long story short, I'd went along with my neighborhood friends and bought a pair of fake Bo Jackson's only weeks before. They were supposed to be play shoes and that's what they were. By the time back to school shopping began, my parents chalked it up as a cost accounted for. "We just bought you new shoes," they said. The look on my face said it all. What was I to do?

Now while this scenario may seem trivial to you, to my 8th grade mind in the 90's, it was catastrophic! So what happened? As soon as I stepped off the bus and met up with my friends, the jokes began. "You got dem new Joe Jackson's?!?- cuz your shoes are beat!" Are those Kangaroos man?!? Those must be the new Cranks (An old "In Living Color" reference)! Needless to say, I did not find their attempts at humor funny! The problem was that everyone else did and my chances of going into the yearbook as best dressed was over on day one!

In the end, that situation made me realize the pressures my daughter must surely be going though as it pertained to acceptance with her peers. It was at that moment I slowed my pace to a stop. "Maybe you should go on to the bus stop by yourself," I said. "I'm sure you don't want to be seen with your Dad at the bus stop." What did she do? She continued her walk in her fresh Nike's and said "No, I want you to," and gave me a hug before getting on the bus. The look on my face said it all! With that, she made it a day that I'd never forget and started for her, a rather forgettable one. Now that's a routine that I could get used to.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Playground naiveté...

2010-08-02T07:59:00.000-04:00

So... I often hear of all this talk about how time flies. How one day you're changing diapers and the next you’re giving your little girl away to some knight in shining armor. Well, while taking a mental snapshot of where I am in this process, I wondered if I had time. Time before teenage boys would begin calling my house, disguised as giddy school girls, to speak to my "precious." Time before she went on her first date, and then time before she resents me for telling her that she won't be wearing that outfit out of my house - not today!" These things I wondered and it is the following story that gave me my answer.

I’d just returned from a function of some kind when I myself was told this most wonderful story about what happened in my absence. It's a story filled with all kinds of wonder and mirth – all wrapped up in a little bundle of naiveté! You see, this story is that of a young suitor attempting to introduce himself to a most beautiful young lady, and from my point of view, it was marvelously told and one to which I shall forever hold dear to my heart. In fact, I often beg to have it repeated as it brings me so much joy!

Ok, so as I imagine it, a young and beautiful girl was eyed swinging on the swings at the park one sunny evening. Naturally, the wind began to blow through her long silky hair, gliding across her face, perhaps, reacting in her a beautiful smile. Noticing this, after a happenstance glance across the park, the young suitor began to summon up his confidence in an attempt to inquire of her. Sweating and nervous, he makes his way past the monkey bars, under the slide, and over the rock wall (obviously to show some sort of romantic agility). I imagine his heart beating furiously! Next to her, swinging just the same, sits the slightly older and equally beautiful narrator of this story. She takes in the encounter with anticipation.

Next, the young suitor slides his feet through the mulched covered surface, making his way closer and he stops just a few feet from her that has compelled him.

"Excuse me," he said.
"Huh?" she replied softly.

At this point, all attention was on him as both beauties turned theirs to him. He must have been wondering if she had a boyfriend as he mustered up his confidence to speak once more. She must have been thinking, "Boy, you're too close...don't get kicked!"

"Do you go with anybody?" He stuttered out.

"Why what do you mean?" The young dame inquired.

"You know, do you “GO” with anybody?"

Wonderfully confused and naive, the beautiful young girl continued in her swinging aspirations as the narrator interjected:

"Boy, she doesn't even know what you’re talking about. Go on somewhere!" (Exit stage left goes boy in dusty shoes!)

Without any further questioning, the story ends there and the young dame, my daughter, along with the narrator, my sister, keep swinging and live to tell this story to me many times over. It's brought me so much joy to know that my daughter is SO not into boys. Isn't it great to know that there's still time for me my friends? ***whispering*** There's still time!

Tears in the outfield...

2010-07-12T08:20:00.000-04:00

He sat hunched over Indian style on a small dirt mound just outside of the dugout. His arms sat folded on his dusted baseball jersey and the lid of his hat sat covering his eyes. They were tear stained. I stood only a few feet away acknowledging his feelings and thought of how to best approach. You see, the events of the past few minutes had changed the course of his "what-was-to-be." Knowing this, I could only think of what shouldn't.

His "what-should-have-been" consisted of a win taking his team to the championship game. What shouldn't have been was a team of eight and nine year old trembling youths standing snot nosed before me. Sure they'd lost the game but so what, there would be other games next year. Sure their season had ended and their expectations failed to meet fruition, but I say verily unto you...so what again! The lesson all of my kids learned that day was not about winning and loosing, nor was it about dusting yourself off after a loss. The lesson they learned that day had in fact nothing to do with baseball at all.

Friends, what those kids witnessed that day was nothing short of a travesty. It was a day filled with an assorted display of what-not-to-do's by their own coaching staff. It was what caused my son's reaction and that of his teammates. It was watching one of their assistant coaches curse and threaten the umpire after a bad call. A mistake of drastic proportions that then followed suit with head coach being dismissed as well. This left another coach and myself there to lift the chins and wipe the noses (not in my job description) of the lifeless players. Talk about a son watching his dad converse with the police across the field while at bat... then talk about tears in the outfield. Wait...there's no crying in baseball! Well I guess it is when it's not about baseball and it's not a game anymore.

As we headed home that evening and my son lay prostrate in the back seat of the car, they learned that lesson. Every minute of it was spent explaining that in life bad calls happen all the time but...so what! Your reaction and the way in which you conduct yourselves after said "bad call" is what keeps all the "what-should-be's" away! And as my son learned, those "be's" sting worst than the real ones!

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
Miracles and Blessings
Tron

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Diligence...

2010-04-30T08:28:00.001-04:00

With a smile on his face my son introduced me to his joy, his project...his seedling. It was a cabbage plant I think, and he seemed to cherish it as his gaze focused on its budding leaves. He then went on to explain to me how he had planted the seed, how he had watered it, and how he had fought for the perfect window position at school for maximum light. I thought great, but why all the enthusiasm? He'd had the opportunity to do this several times in the past with each seedling ending up withered and dry. This time, he beamed, "Whoever can grow the largest plant gets a thousand dollars!"

Ah...a bit of motivation always does the trick and this dude was bent on what he could do with one thousand dollars. He went on..."I could buy one thousand pieces of candy, a dirt bike, and oh...a house! The boy must have envisioned himself as Prince Hakeem! He was sadly mistaken of course but I thought the enthusiasm was healthy.

For the next two weeks he strategically moved his seedling to different widows based on the position of the sun during morning and evening hours. He fed it plant food, and even sat me down to explain how important it was that I water it while he was away. I understood. He then raised his shoulders while rubbing his hands together. He was ready!

Friends, that seedling never had a chance! Last I saw it, the leaves were crumpled on the office floor and the plant, well...it had long dried up taking with it our efforts and his house! The death of the seedling was an interesting event, I thought to myself as I glanced at the cabbage corpse. It's just like life and symbolic in a way. It is, in essence, the reality of life with the truth being that no matter what you have done, it's the actions of today that determine your tomorrows. That we must be diligent in our efforts and keep focused if we are to succeed. It's the difference between those who succeed and those who don't - whether your fruit will be dried leaves or one thousand dollars! What a valuable lesson the seedling sacrificed its life for. Make it count people - and pick your fruit...

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Surprise...

2010-04-28T10:28:00.000-04:00

So…it was a cool winter’s evening and my family and I had plans to attend a play.

Near intermission, my twelve year old daughter began to whisper in my ear that she didn't feel well.

"What's the matter?" I said.

"My stomach hurts. I need to go," she replied.

"Ok, do you need to go to the restroom?”

"No, I need to go home. I'm really not feeling well," she sulked.

It was then that I silently thought to myself...Was this it? Was this women's day sick?!? Was this a… I need to stop by CVS on the way home - stomach hurt sick? I was horrified...and crying on the inside! I was not prepared for this. I mean, I hadn't lifted nearly enough weights or even brought a gun to at least pretend to know how to clean one in front of her teenage suitors! In addition to being horrified, I looked over at the boys and they were just plain restless and had long lost interest in the play. They had simply resorted to arguing over who would play the PSP.

As intermission wound down, I'd made up my mind. It was obviously time to leave and to confiscate the PSP! We then made our way to the car and magically it seemed as if my daughter felt better but the boys were still fighting. In fact, they were near having me act out that scene on Good Times with Penny and the iron! (Only joking)

So, we arrived home and I pulled into the garage and everyone exited the car including my sister who rode with us. When I opened the door, my only thoughts were "Don't beat em' while you're angry...don't beat em' while you're angry! My face was tight! It was then that my youngest went sprinting back to the corner of the garage crying and my oldest boy later tells me that his knees went weak!

I'd been GOT! It seems that my daughter’s sickness was all a part of the plan to get me home. Imagine my surprise when I walked through the door. Lights were flashing and folks yelled surprise! It was all unexpected and my mouth was left agape. As I took it all in and retrieved the youngin shivering in the corner of the garage, I was filled with joy like never before. My house had never seen so many people and not once had I ever been thrown a surprise birthday party. There was food, balloons, and even decorations, but most importantly, those who desired to share that moment with me….way down in Timbuktu land! This was, if it ever had a face…LOVE…

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

Preclusion...

2010-04-23T07:54:00.001-04:00

So I'm in a box.
Everything that I've learned about my myself and the world,
I've learned within this box.
Light seeps in it, and I can see.
Cool breezes blow, and it cools me.
My belly is full, because THEY feed me,
I am content here because I can't see thee.

Another looks up to a blue sky and the sun shines on him.
It looks down on him.
He can see that it makes things grow around him.
He can point to it - the sun,
knowing the place from where the light comes.
He feels the winds blow also,
but he can see its effect on the trees.
They sway to it and it stirs the seas.
He eats and his appetite too is full.
He's much better off now because from the same box he was pulled.

You see, the thought of escape from the box eludes me,
because my comfort level within it precludes me.
I don't really care what goes on outside and to thee,
because no one has ever told me that it's not just about me.

Friends, one of the greatest gifts that you can give your children is to show them the world and where they stand within it. Let them experience different cultures, ways of life and what others before them have accomplished. I believe that it really sets them free. It's the universal key to unlocking slavery.

Take them to a wide open area and see if they won't take off running! It's their nature. Open up the world for them and they'll run just because. Motivate them...open up their box!...

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Remember...

2010-04-21T08:27:00.000-04:00

The dust rose from the catchers mitt signaling the end for him. His sixth swing of the bat was a clean whiff. I saw it from the first base line. I also saw the batter's face as he removed his helmet. It was sheer disappointment. It was the first time he had struck out all season. Immediately, our eyes met and the glances between us confirmed an understanding of sorts. It was simply that no one was perfect.

As we made our way to the game earlier that evening, his confidence turned into boasting as he relived the triumphs of previous games and practices. "Baseball is easy," he said. "I always get at least a base hit." In truth, he was correct, in reality however, he was sadly mistaken. While he continued in his boastful banter, I brought into the conversation as many sports stars as I could. "Jordan missed more than 9,000 times. The great “Bambino, the Sultan of Swat,” Babe Ruth himself struck out 1,330 times!" The difference, I said, was that they kept trying - that's the secret - remember. "Dad," he proclaimed, "I'm different." My reply was repeated- remember!

When the inning had ended and we met in the dugout after his strikeout, you could see in his face the embarrassment. His head was down as he whispered the words… "I don't want to play anymore." With a stiff tug on his baseball cap, I lifted his head and whispered back – remember! He then reluctantly trotted out to cover third base.

What would he do I thought. How would he react when it's his turn to bat again? With the common knowledge that everyone faces this in life at some point or another, I was more concerned with his reaction than anything else. Would he keep trying? My stomach turned inside.

"TJ, you're up," the manager yelled out the following inning. I looked away. His first swing resembled his last and so did the following four. With a maximum of six pitches to each batter, this would be it. I focused to catch his eye and didn't give any advice. Frankly, he'd been given all he needed.

He hit the ball into the outfield and sprinted to first base! Inside I wanted to sprint with him but I didn't. Inside I wanted to run up and tell him some Earl and Tiger Woods type stuff like, “Let the legend grow,” but I didn’t do that either. I simply smiled and pointed to my head indicating our "remember" conversation. He nodded back while high fiving the opposing team’s first base coach.

Wouldn't you know it though, the boy waited until the last pitch to make a hit on his subsequent tries. I nearly passed out every time! It's an odd thing, baseball and life, I mean. The secret of both of is to remember to just keep trying and that no one is perfect…

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

Foresight...

2010-04-16T07:21:00.001-04:00

As we walked in, the place was abuzz with joy unable to be contained. The proof was found in the numerous children found running snaggletoothed in various vectors. Silence was not welcome here. In fact, it must have been prohibited. The surrounding area looked to be as wide open as a Texas plain. It was filled with attractions and contraptions sure to capture the attention of the young.

Here, the colors alone put one into overload and I slowly felt their hands slip from mine. It was obvious that they favored the busy experience of this new play place called "LOL Station." Immediately, my mind drifted to my younger days. Me running through Chuck-E-Cheese's, tugging on his tail, climbing through the crawl spaces. Man those were the days!

So with a tug from my youngest to relive those days, I found my knees and back resenting those days! In fact, I felt like I should have been prohibited! Obviously, I slowly gravitated to the parent (Can you see me Daddy?) section.

While sitting there though, I realized a change. First my knees stopped hurting and then my mind began to wander to possible scenarios of future events. I kinda felt like that guy in that 80's show "Quantum Leap." You know, where the guy was always given an impossible mission, that when complete, would change the future. My mission...to allow my kids to have as much fun as possible on these attraction contraptions without having to visit the emergency room!

It was then I realized that my entire way of thinking had changed. That if I was to survive my tenure as a parent successfully, I would need super powers just like the "Leap" guy. What I needed was foresight, and that mysterious "Ziggy" fellow provided it for him. Without it, Leap guy was doomed, with it, he always came through.

I mean, since they day my kids were born, I've saved them exactly 1,276 times....wait 1,277 (I forgot to add the impromptu heimlich maneuver I performed down at the local Applebee's the other night). Bottom line is...Keep that cautious eye open. From the time they learn to walk, they just find ways to hurt themselves - Pretty inventive these little people are!

Makes you think though. I'm glad my father has foresight and cares for me. I can rest in knowing that his will for me is perfect. Now that's real joy unable to be contained. I just have to remember to not let my hand slip from his...

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Success...

2010-04-14T07:29:00.000-04:00

For those of you that didn't know, I recently had the pleasure of teaching a group of third graders the art of computer programming. For nearly five months, these select group of kids that included my son, stayed after school for the purpose of competing against other county third graders. Their mission was to create a project about "Going Green." You know, saving energy.

Now being as though I'd never actually worked with any other kids besides my own academically, I learned two things early on. The first was that the public school system really needs to do a better job screening their instructors, and secondly, that the same methods of teaching I used on my kids would not fly.

See in sports and coaching, if the kids get out of hand, you can just make them run laps or sit the pine. In a computer lab, running laps really aren't conducive and... there is no pine! At home, if they get out of hand, well...they might meet "Sensei." He's a "black belt" I own that holds nteenth degrees in attitude alignment. In fact, often times, only a mere mentioning of Sensei brings about a whole new attitude. Sensai was not conducive to the computer lab either!

With this being the case, finding ways to motivate their genius minds was nothing short of a task. Some wanted to play games, some wanted attention, but most just wanted to eat snacks while recording fart sounds on the microphone! Nevertheless, I wanted them to understand that they had the power to create their own dreams. That "IF" they grasped these concepts "THEN" anything was possible. That "WHILE" they did their best, their future was sure to be a success!

What I found by the end was that it was extremely rewarding. That the kids rose to the occasion. That even though they didn't place in the competition, most of them had gotten the point. They understood what success was; that their reward would be more than a mere plastic trophy. Their experience would be "Forever" looped within them.

After the competition, I looked on the faces of those robot kids who took home the first place trophy. It was sad. They didn't seem to have fun at all. I'd bet what they really wanted to do was to make fart sounds!...

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Mistakes...

2010-03-19T12:18:00.000-04:00

I once found a blender blade drying on the kitchen counter and thought it a good idea to bring it to my mother - I fell on it and ended up with 8 stitches! That was a mistake! I twice brought houses at the height of the real estate boom - the boom busted thereafter. Those were mistakes too! Then, I thrice had to be sent to the hospital for swallowing a penny, plum seed, and a hot dog. All mistakes! Man I've made plenty of mistakes in my life. Some of which I choose not to expound on today, all of which I've learned from, and none of them will I repeat again- God willing!

With all my mistakes though, with all OUR mistakes as parents even, I think it important to explain to our children our mistakes. This because to hide your children from your mistakes serves only to booby-trap their very destiny. It also serves to illegitimize your own struggles in the process. Now I've come across several detractors of this thinking. It is to them I rebut...“Those that do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." So I ask, if this rings true, then it is our responsibility to illuminate our history –all of it. Not doing so would leave them just as vulnerable to your mistakes as you were...and doomed!

You know, I’ve learned in life that while it’s true that there is nothing in life more powerful than experiencing a lesson first hand, there is also nothing more beneficial than being able to avoid those lessons through wisdom. So parents, what wisdom will you impart? Show them your scars and stitches, illuminate your history to solidify theirs. Share your story and use wisdom in doing so. I do. My kids have to hear my story every time they even think about eating a plum...

Discovery...

2010-03-17T06:01:00.000-04:00

So "It takes two" had just dropped and I was in music heaven! I'd saved up all my report card money and was about to make it rain down at the local Discount Mart! (SE stand up!) So, with money in hand, I walked over to the cassette tape section which just happened to be right past the vinyl section. (Old heads stand up!) Finally, I had found what I was looking for. It was there leaning up against the wall encased in mummified armored plastic! I walked out of the store with 4 things that day...Rob Base's and Easy Rock's single, the Prince's "Parent's Just don't understand" tape, The Temptation's Christmas" tape, and a love for music.
Later that evening, I popped the tapes in my laptop sized - level 10 school fund-raiser issued Walkman and memorized nearly every song off those tapes. It was that day I decided that I would be an artist. This after singing "Silent Night" to myself for hours. I had come to discover that I sounded exactly like David Ruffin!

The next day at school, sometime before word got out about the mandatory Glee club tryouts, I was sure I wanted to sing...but just as sure I didn't want to be singing with Glee in the club! "It wouldn't make sense," I told myself. I was a 3rd grade basketball prodigy at the time and... I was scared. So I tanked my audition...but my teacher loved it!!! I thought I sounded horrible. She didn't. My head was pumped up. I then sung for real. She didn't love it or like it anymore! My Glee club offer was retracted. I was embarrassed - long story short.

See "what had happened" was that I'd been singing to myself without anyone to comment for so long that I actually thought I sounded decent. Well time has revealed that I'm not a singer nor will I have the opportunity to rock a baby blue cummerbunn and bow tie in front of thousands! It's ok though, I still have a love for music and can (with my inside voice) sound just like Maxwell!

So, as parents, I say spend as much time with your kids as possible. Discover what it is that they like to do, what they're good at, and help them cultivate their gifts and talents. This means that you may or may not have to encourage them to possibly sing with their "inside voice!" (Parents stand up!) Save them from my Glee club embarrassment...because, "It Takes Two!"

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
Miracles and Blessings
Tron

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Friends...

2010-03-16T15:50:00.000-04:00

A great rapper once posed the following question about friends..."How many of us have them - ones we can depend on?" A few days ago I had a rare opportunity to which I took full advantage regarding this subject. This after I was pulled aside by my daughter's karate instructor. Well "Mr. Mason, she said, it seems your daughter is being influenced by a certain individual. An individual causing trouble. An individual that may no longer be attending the institution. As wonderful and well behaved as she is, I've noticed a change when the two get together." So I stand there blank faced and take it all in before pulling my daughter to the side.

"So what happened?,"I asked. "Well...my friend made fun of the instructor and I was made to run five laps," she exclaimed. She also added the infamous...wait for it..."I didn't even do anything" line. After confirming her story with the teacher, I thought five laps a pretty cheap price to pay to learn such a lesson. The lesson that punishment by association is alive and well...so choose your friends wisely!

What famous last words those are. "I didn't even do anything." It has been screamed by hardened criminals from the rooftops of Alcatraz, whiny five year olds in the bowels of the time-out corner, and of course Whodini concerts! For Kids, choosing friends can be difficult so as parents we need to teach them to make good decisions and to know the real meaning of friendship. As for that individual influencing my daughter...I'm not sayn' karate chop her in the kisser...Nah!...just that my daughter should try and be a positive influence for her...before she leaves.

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Irregardless...

2010-03-10T09:07:00.001-05:00

So this morning my son wakes up on the "wrong side of the bed," figuratively speaking. His attitude totally passed the sheet kicking level. He even had the nerve to withhold the sanctioned "Yes Dad" response required for all instruction - A Mason family law enacted, I'm sure, in accordance with the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. Its purpose is two-fold. One, to rule out the old "I didn't hear what you said hence I didn't do anything" excuse, and two, so I don't have to repeat myself. A win-win I think...it calls for swift comprehension while opening the door for expedited corrective action. Action that could include but is not limited to "attitude adjustment by leather strap rearrangement," and time-out...I'm not a complete savage!

Now why this mornings attitude was elevated I have no clue but it had become a pattern that I was beginning to notice. A pattern that I didn't like and a pattern way above my apportioned pre-six o'clock grace level. I mean, I calmly explained that in my house he had no choice but to wake up happy. This simply because if one wakes up to see the sun rise, breathe the air, and sees fit to take off one's favorite high water PJ's to put on one's favorite high water (washed once too many times) skinny jeans while "tuding out," he is deemed disrespectful. And...as outlined during the time of the Proclamation, disrespect across the board carries a sentence of 5-10 and I don't mean minutes in the corner!

Long story short, by mornings end the boy sung and hollered and it didn't come out sounding like those boys singing "Fair Eastside" in "Lean on Me!" Afterward, we sat and had a little talk and I think he understood that he should control himself and act accordingly "irregardless" to how he felt. To recognize that life is a gift and should be honored, especially if he wanted to be, thenceforward free to see the sun rise, breathe the air, and wear those jeans again!

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Separation...

2010-03-08T18:05:00.001-05:00

Separation- It's an act or instance of separating or the state of being separated. In other words, "A ripping or tearing apart of something that was once whole." For me, the feeling equates to loneliness. This because being a single Dad in my situation can oftentimes leave me just plain lonely. So lonely in fact that I sometimes find myself strumming away my loneliness in single player mode of Guitar Hero, bending the whammy bar with such emotion as to drown out my sorrows. No one to teach, no one to body slam, and no one to say no to when they wake me up at 5:30 am wanting an ice cream samitch and/or assistance finding a random toy no one has seen for weeks.

Ok, ok...being separated from my kids from time to time isn't exactly that bad. Actually their absence gives me time to catch up on some things like household chores, working out, and spending time with family and friends. I've found that maintaining the proper balance of all aspects of life is the only way to go.
With my experiences though, I've pondered what my life would be like if I had PKS syndrome, also known as "Permanent Kid Separation." Besides the certainty that I'd no doubt find myself in some kind of serious trouble, I'd be distraught. The thought of it terrifies me leaving me baffled on how fathers could walk away from such a responsibility. I guess I understand the whole "out of sight-out of mind" scenario when it comes to...let's say...delicious turtle brownies, but not kids!

Now far be it from me to judge anyone but fathers need to step up if you've stepped off. Leaving them out in this cold world powerless to influences like the Jonas brothers, gender confusion, and that horrible show "Suite life on Deck" is just plain negligent...

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
Miracles and Blessings
Tron

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The Climb...

2010-03-05T09:28:00.001-05:00

So the other day the kids and I were riding in the car singing Miley Cyrus' "The Climb" when the melody starts to fade and I actually listened to the words. I'm thinking - Pretty good song young Cyrus wrote! If you hadn't heard it, just take my word for it, if you have, then I'm a little embarrassed! It's kind of a teeny-bopper song but the message is much more mature. She's talking about the road to getting where you're going in life. How it's not about the end, meaning the fame and fortune, the "cars and the clothes" but the climb in how you got there.

Before I caught myself saying "Real talk," I turned to the kids and muted the radio. They all had that look on their faces like, "ahh...here he goes again!" So I turned it back up and held my thoughts until it was over. They knew full well what was coming next- "What do the lyrics mean?" I asked. After a pause, my youngest finally said something. He asked, "What's a lear-wick and why do I only have seven letters in my name?"

So obviously no one had an answer so obviously...my dissertation began! I thought I explained it rather well. I went into how all the struggles they're sure to face in this life are there to make them stronger. That there can be no progress without struggle, and that generally, happiness comes in a package deal with hard work and determination. In the end I hope they got the message and realized that obtaining happiness through this "hard work and determination" is a much higher seed than anything material.

I thought this message to be relatively profound since the more predominant Hip-Hop culture advertises otherwise - "WORD!" Now whether or not they received young Cyrus' or my message has yet to be determined. I guess...

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
Miracles and Blessings
Tron

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Opportunity...

2010-03-03T19:44:00.000-05:00

As we all know, doors open and close really fast when it comes to opportunity. One thing I've learned is that when it comes aknocking it doesn't knock long and if you're not in the right position to open the door, you miss out. It's really that simple. The trick is to position the "best you" to understand what the opportunity is you want and strategically prepare yourself to obtain it. If you want extra desert, I tell my kids, position the items in your room in such a way as to increase the probability!

This weekend I had the opportunity to watch a show on lottery winners. It documented the winners lives after the millions came. It was then that you could clearly see how the love of money and being unprepared for opportunity nearly destroyed all of their lives. Some considered it a curse they wouldn't wish on anyone, some became recluses, and some watched their lives wither away staring at the walls. I say all that to say that it further proves my point. These people obtained their opportunities via the luck of the draw and not from self preparation. I really do think that there's something to be said about that. It's kinda like rewarding your kid when they've done nothing. They develop an absurd since of entitlement setting them up for utter failure. They are either unable to handle opportunity when presented, unable to grasps it, or sad faced because I won't let them have Pudding pops!

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Blindness...

2010-03-02T07:38:00.001-05:00

I've been roaming around always looking down at all I see. Painted faces fill the places I can't reach. You know that I could use somebody. Someone like you and all you know, and how you speak.
Countless lovers undercover of the street. You know that I could use somebody. Someone like you. Off in the night while you live it up, I'm off to sleep- waging war to shake the poet and the beat. I hope it's going to make you notice someone like me. Go and let it out -someone like you, somebody. I've been roaming around always looking down at all I see...

For those of you choosing not to live under a rock, you'd recognize that these words put to music earned for many weeks the top spot on nearly all music charts. In addition, it also grabbed the attention of countless youths and adults alike. It's a song written by a band calling themselves the "Kings of Leon." It was this song that I found my kids and I repeating as we made our way home one evening. "Play it again," they said. "I can't," I replied, "it's the radio." Maybe it was the beat? Maybe the melody? Maybe the words? Whatever it was, like many of its listeners, I was pulled in and we repeated the catchy tune in unison.

You see, my assumption was that it was God they were referring to in the song. That it was Him looking down. In the end it was not...and I was blind in my thinking. I was blind because of the beat and my assumptions and it wasn't until I became curious of these lyrics that I discovered its meaning. Who is this being always roaming around, I thought. Well we know that when God asked "Where have you come from?" Someone answered, "From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it." Who is this being looking down? We also know that this same being is described as the "prince of the power of the air." Who wages wars? Who could shake the poet and the beat? Need I say more? Need I say that I was captivated by what appeared to be good at first glance?

Now whether you believe as I believe or not, I urge us all to open our eyes and ears in an attempt to analyze the words we let flow from our own lips, not to mention sing in unison with our children. I say teach them to not only be on the look out for the "Angel of light," but for ideals for which you do not support. It could be...

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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TAG...

2010-02-26T08:09:00.000-05:00

I remember it like it was yesterday. My father had come home with a piece of machinery that blew my mind. I was about ten at the time and had never seen the insides of one. I had asked on several occasions at school but for some reason my computer teachers proved both apprehensive and defensive when asked to gut one. The day that chassis opened was as if the expanse of my mind grew. He had made a profound difference in my world blazing a path to which I would always continue. I saw circuits, tiny batteries and the geekiest word of all-time, the motherboard!

I was enamored, and even more so when I found that the DOS prompt had been bypassed. It was the Windows era and was as if the floodgates of heaven had been opened. Needles to say, one of my passions is no doubt computers and has long stood the test of time unlike previous flings like basketball or card collecting.

Now while I've found my love in computers, it is true that my concubine is writing. Aside from those though, I actually find it rather difficult naming my actual gifts and talents when asked as most people do. So difficult that at first all I could come up with was Kite flying. I mean, I don't like to brag but in a parallel universe somewhere where Golf ceases to exist and Kite Flying is king, there I stand, the superstar figure of Kite Flying. You know, sometimes I feel as if were born in the wrong era? Take for instance this Tiger Woods fellow, the world renown billionaire sports figure. Sure we know him today as the "Cheating Cablanasian" jokingly referred to as "Slyger," but what if he'd lived before golf was invented. He'd be a pauper! This because his uncanny ability to use a stick to place a ball within a foot of a hole five hundred yards away would be useless. So here I stand, a would be billionaire Kite runner forced to showcase my talents on empty soccer fields but I digress.

In reality though, I think it best that we sit down with our kids and help them find where they are talented and gifted. If they excel in learning, push them harder! If they excel in art, encourage them more! If they have an uncanny ability to get in and out of their shoes without untying them, tie them tighter...

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Humor me...

2010-02-24T17:14:00.001-05:00

They act as if I was born yesterday - asking me all these questions! Yes I know why the chicken crossed the road...all 428 variations of it! Yes I know why six is afraid of seven and for the last time, yes I'm glad you didn't say banana! You know these kids nowadays think themselves the next Dave Chappelle because they make squeaky sounds with their arm pits and whisper to each other about what happened to the little boy named Booty-itch! Don't they know I've told those same jokes and pulled those same pranks? I mean I still have the contorted arms to prove it and could probably still play a mean arm-fiddle if I chose to!

So here they are walking around entertaining themselves as if they've just invented walking around with their shoes on their knees! But, on occasion, I must admit I am caught off guard. Like the time my daughter walked into my room complaining of a sore neck. She then proceeds to forcefully jerk her head and fall lifelessly to the floor. The sound of the concealed plastic cup smashing under her sweater as she fell nearly caused me to faint! While she got me that time, she must know that ole Dad has a few more tricks left up his sleeve - and I'm saving the best for last!

Well friends, it seems my kids are growing up and doing a pretty good job acclimating themselves into society. They are all doing well in school while excelling at home in fun and games, inventing new ways (so they think) to enjoy life. Wait, I don't believe I've ever requested an invite to a Kumate for my 9th birthday or even a Golden ticket for my 6th but you know what I mean. And yes, they couldn't be more serious!

I say all this to say that life is just as full of opportunities to laugh as there are to be serious. It's a balance I think. I mean, remember how we grew up...

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
Miracles and Blessings
Tron

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Caution...

2010-02-19T09:14:00.001-05:00

The kid was awesome. No doubt one of the brightest I'd come across and for some reason he thought Computer Science interesting. "Is it time to begin," he asked eagerly. "No we have a few minutes, I'm still setting up," I said. As the kid walked away I noticed an object dangling from the adjustable strap on the back of his baseball cap. "Hey buddy, what's that, I asked" "Oh, this? It's my invention!" He then proceeded to unstrap the scrungi from the hat loop and open the contents of the old school plastic film roll case. Inside was a latex glove, two band-aids, alki swabs, hand sanitizer, and a defibrillator. Ok, I was joking about the latter. "It's my first-aid kit...Duh" he tells me. By that point I was sorry I'd asked.

Now on my way home later that evening my son began his endless question session. "Why do birds fly?" "What does the yellow light mean?" Now I paused when he asked this, but being as though this was pre-red light-green light period in school," I gave the lad a break. "Well son, the yellow light means to take caution and slow down." "Well how come you "take closet" when it's a green light too?

In pondering this thought, he was correct. I'd noticed that on many occasions I'd slow down at an intersection no matter the light color. Not only would I slow down but I'd look around to make sure no other cars were coming and then proceed. "Because son, you can't just rely on signals, you have to look for other signs too."

As in life, I've found this to be a top 10 rule for living. This because you must be careful not to believe anything everyone says. Now don't get me wrong, I think it great to have faith in people but the bottom line is to "take closet" to protect yourself. There are wolves in sheep clothing everywhere you turn. "Don't get eaten," I said. "Why not?" he asked...

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Changes...

2010-02-18T11:29:00.001-05:00

So we said our goodbyes and no one shed a tear for their dear brother. We had discussed what the plan would be. We would gather up all his things and just drop him off - simple as that. It needed to be done I think. I had no choice. I'd hate to say it but this dude, to me, was the cause of the single greatest pain in my side ever! Look don't judge me...the constant whining, his constant lack of disrespect, his outright gall... all of it had me within seconds of writing up his eulogy. I didn't want that! What I wanted was for the pain and suffering to end -positively!

You see, as we all gathered in the car with the four of them in the back seat, they all seemed happy enough. The littlest one was without a seat belt and a clue that he would soon be betrayed. His life as he knew it would cease to exist. I mean, I tried to explain it to him but it was like it went right in one ear and out the other. I said, "Son, I've tried, your siblings have tried, but we can't go on like this. It's not you it's me!" He just looked up at me and begged for my food. We went on a walk that day. That was the last father-son time we had together before I kissed him on his cheek to be handed over.

The next day was different though. I woke up with a renewed attitude. It seems the previous day had birthed in me this song. I found myself humming..."Just waking up in the morning gotta thank God. I don't know but today seems kind of odd. No barking from the DOG-DOG-DOG... Then the weight of what I had done hit me like a brick! What had I done!?! In my distress I had promised my kids a kitten...

To read more please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Revenge...

2010-02-15T08:16:00.000-05:00

It was there I found myself... I was sitting silently engulfed in darkness as the sounds of those screaming in terror were growing increasingly horrific. The gore was more than anything I had ever experienced before and by that point it was hard for me to tell the difference between make believe and reality. If it wasn't real, like they kept telling me, I thought, then why are they jumping? Why are they screaming, and why did I just mess my corduroys?

For me, peeking through my fingers that day proved a total shock and was not at all what I was expecting. What I had expected was the fruition of my daydreams. Daydreams conjured by my time waiting in suspended anticipation for nearly two weeks. The reason for my excitement you ask? Why it was the big screen debut of my favorite childhood character and it was going to be bumpin', I told myself.

Before entering the theatre, I remember glaring at the marquee poster with the giant letters staring back at me. It read "Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer!" Finally the day had come I thought as I stared at it with amazement. This until I was abruptly whisked away into the adjacent theatre by my older cousins and their friends.

That's where my nightmare would soon begin and where I'd find myself sitting soiled in the darkness. You see upon taking our seats, everyone seemed just as jovial as I and I for one was ready to have unveiled before me the secrets of Rainbow Brite! However, it would not be so that day. Here there was no mention of the colorful superstar character. Only of some guy they affectionately referred to as Freddy! They also kept going on and on about how he would get his revenge??? At five years old, I sat there with my endless bucket of popcorn imagining this thing called revenge. Maybe I'll get some, I'd hoped - it sounded delicious!

To read more and to find out what happened, please be sure to purchase a copy of my soon to be published book chronicling my life as a single father. Also, feel free to donate toward its costs if you so choose by clicking the donate button @ http://chroniclesofasinglefather.blogspot.com. Thanks for taking this journey with me.

Miracles and Blessings

Tron

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Vigilance...

2010-02-12T10:34:00.000-05:00

I could not believe my eyes. There I sat in total disbelief. Why hadn't my eyes been opened before? Was I really that innocent back then? With a click of the mouse I had to pause the YouTube session. I was torn on whether or not I should continue. The images of blind construction workers being enslaved by these cave dwelling puppet like creatures may be too much for the kids I thought. Furthermore, why the creepy dirty old man whose only companion was a dingy mutt in desperate need of a bath. I mean, I wouldn't let my kids come within 10 feet of this guy. He was so dirty in fact that he didn't have roaches, no no, he didn't have mice, or rats even. It was far worse! This characters' crib had been infested by free running "Fraggles!"

So in my old age it seems my tolerance for this sort of thing was near zero and the kids groove to the opening credits of Fraggle Rock was temporarily interrupted. All I wanted was for them to experience some of my fond childhood shows because theirs are so creepy. I mean who could forget the controversy about those weird looking Teletubbies? Or perhaps the creepy face of the Blue's Clues host? So here we have a grown man with a baby butt smooth face, dressed up in colorful long sleeve shirts (obviously to cover his heroine marked arms) attempting to engage in dialogue with your kids! I'm no dummy, I saw where that was going from the very beginning. It was a setup and only a matter of time before he's caught wearing his rapist glasses rolling up on some unsuspecting five year old in an elementary school parking lot while holding his...Blue's Clues doll!

I know what I'll do, I thought. You can't go wrong with ole Paddington Bear! He had this awesome accent and he never did anything wrong. No harm in that right? So wrong! It seemed he was the inspiration for all the aforementioned. So a bear walks around town mid day going commando in a half opened duffel coat and a hat nearly covering his eyes. Need I say more?

Parents, all I'm saying is that the good ole days may not have necessarily been so good and we need to heighten our vigilance levels. I say keep an eye on these new shows being pushed into your kids heads by these freaks! It seems our only option is the TBN Network. It's the only station bringing joy and comfort to our kids with a Christian message. We'll...decide for yourself. I found my kids glaring without blink at this one show. To my distress, I also found a pair of rapist glasses looking back! Don't believe me??? Check it out for yourself @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQ77D9JXJSc. Possibly the creepiest thing I've ever seen! I couldn't click away fast enough! Stay vigilant!

Freedom...

2010-02-10T11:25:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time in the land Far Far Away stood a mansion with many rooms and each room boasted many windows. As it stood on this particular day, each window was closed all for this one which sat a beautiful yellow canary in its cage. The caged bird tweeted the most wonderful songs and his master adored him. Often, to encourage song, he would place the cage near the windowsill as other birds would join in with the canary. The bird, always with hopes of being released, imagined his master doing just that and so freedom became his inspiration for singing.

As the canary sat on the windowsill one evening a robin began to question why he sang so grand. "Why to be released," the canary tweeted. "The more I sing, the closer I get to gaining my freedom." The robin was saddened by the canary's since of delusion. This as the canary asked, "Can you tell my family of my plight and return to me the secret of freedom? In wondrous pity, the robin was off in the direction the canary had explained. When the robin arrived to his destination he informed the first of their relatives' circumstance. Then, swiftly upon hearing the news of his capture, the kin canary fell dead to the ground. The robin quickly left both confused and in mourning having taken regret of his involvement.

Very shortly after, the robin made his way back to the windowsill and observed the canary singing as if the cage door would be opened any second. "Canary, I must inform you that upon hearing the news of your imprisonment, a kin of yours fell dead to the ground, "I am truly sorry," the robin chirped. Following this news the canary's song heightened to such a point as to captivate its owner. Then, at climax captivation, the canary fell both silent and dead to the ground as well. The robin, in total disbelief flew away confused and perched himself in observance until putting two and two together. He was the carrier of a fatal disease that killed anyone he contacted. Sadly, the robin spent the rest of his days in solitude.

Friends, as you are well aware, becoming a parent brings with it a whole heap of responsibility, new decisions we are forced to make, and in addition, new freedoms to which we never expected. This freedom being to love those who are made in your image, your children. You know, sometimes as a single father I forget this and bring myself to believe my freedoms would multiply if my circumstances were different but the fact is that I'd just end up like that robin spending the rest of my days diseased and in solitude. See what the robin failed to realize was that upon seeing the canary in distress, his master opened the cage door and the canary quickly grasped its freedom. In the end, the robin wasn't diseased at all but was in fact carrying the secret of freedom. It is that same freedom we hold deep within us as parents but can only be revealed to us when we make the decision to stick around.

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History...

2010-02-08T09:25:00.001-05:00

In a palatial estate on a vast sea of land sits a little boy on a white porch. The sun rays beam down seeing fit to illuminate that which it cultivates. Rolling hills of green grass, blooming dog woods and crepe myrtles stand erect in the distance. With his legs dangling from the porch swing, his eyes concentrate on the words being taught to him. Some words he is unable to sound out, and some meanings he is unable to comprehend, but he will one day.

The boys' father sits with him steadying the swing as the motion of it lulls him to remember a time when he sat with his own father sounding out these very words. Pausing, he takes a sip of his wife's lemonade and looks up and takes in both the scenery and perspective. The land the estate stands - purchased hundreds of years ago, the porch on which they sit- built in latter years, but the words they are reading proving more ancient than either. These are a people who know their history, who know the struggles of their ancestors. The direction in which they are to go proves illuminated by a blazing path set straight before them. It speaks to them and its voice is "The Chronicles."

For those of you that are unaware, my purpose for creating "The Chronicles" is to provide some form of a lasting legacy for future generations. To eventually provide a window into their past and be that forceful wind pushing them toward excellence birthed from the very breath of life breathed in me. I ask you, is my dream too far fetched?

Friends, together we've seen a man who once would have been considered three-fifths of a man become President of these United States. We've also, through outlets such as writing, can experience the lives of such great persons as Frederick Douglass or Booker T. Washington. All of these gentleman I admire. All to which I hope to be held in the same esteem, and all whose books I hope mine to adjacent on the bookshelves within the library of that palatial estate hundreds of years from now.

So you are aware, "The Chronicles" is now in the late stages of editing and having the first edition published and it is this that I would like you to be of support. If you've read my writings and appreciate its purpose, I ask for a donation toward its publishing cost. I've added a "Donate" button to my blog to assist in making this a reality. As for me, I say our dreams are not too far fetched! After all, I breathe the same air as all the greats before us and am warmed by the same sun as they.

I thank you for taking this journey with me and hopefully receiving your very own copy of the published product with a $50 donation. Know that I appreciate any support whether it be verbal or monetary. Play a part and donate to "History..." Oh - and remember...Like the Princess of Zamunda once quoted..."We like the kind that jingles, but we prefer the money that folds."

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Keep Pedaling...

2010-02-05T08:56:00.001-05:00

There he was. This little guy standing in the middle of the driveway dressed as a warrior. His helmet decorated with the illusion of fire, his armor shining steel blue in color and tightened around his elbows and arms. He was ready! Oh wait... "Tighten up your chin strap." Ok now he was ready! With this however, it seemed his enemy was just as prepared if not more so. His enemy sat in its own corner displaying its menacing frame and snaring back at him as the young warrior trembled with fear. The armor on his knees knocked almost rhythmically. The beat sounded eerily like Queen's 1980 hit "Another one bites the dust." "Dad, he called out shaken, Do we have to take the training wheels off today? I don't have to learn today, I'm ok - really." It was clear the boy was nerve stricken. Apparently he'd gotten wind of the epic battles his older siblings had with the great two wheeled beast. They had triumphed but not without a battle mark or band aid. These stories, now clearly exaggerated were messing with his psyche...and his stomach. Thinking fast I gave the warrior a pep talk of sorts as he stood on the hot concrete terrain. With his eyes darting constantly and his legs week, what he needed was a dose of courage I thought. "My stomach hurts Daddy" "Keep your wits about you son and take this elixir! It's sure to give you all the energy you need to defeat the beast. It's basically liquid courage - drink up!" I passed him the Chuck E Cheese goblet and he drank boldly from it. When he'd finished he looked different. His knees quieted and he emphatically proclaimed "That's Pepto Bismol Daddy!" I simply proclaimed with a stiff pat on his back, that today...it's the stuff dreams are made out of!

As we made our way down to the asphalt lined battlefield, the suburban warrior continually posed questions to his giggling siblings of how long it would take. My daughter shouted out "Five minutes!" In actuality it had taken her three days, a box of band aids, and two pair of gloves. I remember it like it was yesterday. The child pedaled right into the woods and hit a tree! She sat out the next day. Look, don't judge me - I take full blame! "Lesson one son - "Braking."

I must say people, that was no doubt the hottest day of the year and pushing dead weight in limp armor with a bike up and down the street was exhausting. "Can we take a break?, he said" "Keep pedaling," I replied. "Can you pour water over my head?" "Keep pedaling!" "Will you..." "Keep pedaling!!!" Now about our tenth time up and down the street my own knees were knocking and he could keep his balance when I let go for a second or two. The smile across his face was priceless. The kids snapped pictures and he was on his way. Then he hit "bit the dust!" It seems a quick jerk of the wheel provided him with a taste of the unforgiving terrain. His left knee pad had absorbed much of the enemy blow. I took my time getting there as the beast lay on top of his tangled body and he yelled out. I reached the boy and loosened him from the enemy's "Full Nelson" and "Figure Four" grip. He then looks up at me as if to say...I know - Keep pedaling! Now there you have it friends...That's the stuff dreams are really made of!

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Four Letters...

2010-02-03T08:01:00.001-05:00

Dear Mr. MacGyver,

I've watched all your episodes on TV and have been amazed at your engineering prowess. Actually that's what started me toward my path in engineering. That time you disarmed a missile with a paperclip was "nothing but the truth!" You're like a one man A-team without a lame torch or a Mohawk. Those guys were idiots and you are awesome! Can you please send me your autograph and the instructions on how to repair a busted brake line while in a moving car?

Sincerely, Your biggest fan!

Dear MacGyver,

I recently wrote you a letter to which I have yet to receive a response. For your reading enjoyment I have attached it with this one. I understand how busy things can get. I would have thought things would have slowed down for you with the advent of Jack Bower. Anyways, this time I need help with my sons science fair project. With it being a recession and all, my only materials consist of those contents within my kitchen cabinet. The hypothesis... "If we follow the instructions in your episode entitled "The Black Corsage," then we will make a better fire extinguisher than currently on the market!"

Sincerely, Grooming the next Generation

Dear Mac,

This is my third letter and I've received no responses. I feel as though you do not care about my son or I. He received an F on his science fair project and you're a fraud! I don't even know who you are anymore or whether you could even power a radio with a cactus. You know I believed in you but I see it's true what my kids said! You are lame! All those times I went to bat for you when Knight Rider came into the discussion! Please send that autograph ASAP as we've run out of toiletries. P.S. You're the reason terrorist exist!

Sinceley, Walker Texas Ranger Fan!

Dear Friends,

Do not let this happen to you! Do not look to fictional characters when in need. I had to learn the hard way and am putting myself out there as an example. Take for instance just yesterday. I nearly bet a friend that I could construct an arcwelder from a car battery and pocket change! I could have lost an eye! Seriously though, take my advice as there is only one guy that can perform miracles and allow for an escape from a burning incinerator. (Even without the use of a fire extinguisher) Only one set of instructions that can give you the guidance and wisdom necessary for a life worth living. He'll never fail and leave you disappointed like that geeky fraud did to me! I know because a great multitude of witnesses stand before you having already succeeded in proving that hypothesis correct. So, if you ever find yourself like me with three children in the back seat simultaneously screaming "Tow truck! -Tow truck!" because your transmission just blew, just take a breath and put away your pocket change. Simply thank God for providing for a miraculous escape and let him change you. Appreciate that escape to which you were totally unbeknownst. This because we never really have any idea what's waiting for us around that corner we never made it to! Now that's "nothing but the Truth!" Hopefully a truth that starts you toward a path to that truth named Christ.

Sincerely, One of the multitude!

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Falsticity...

2010-02-01T09:31:00.001-05:00

The day had finally come! It was 1991 and the much anticipated report card day had arrived. For some it carried negative connotations but for your boy...it was Payday! This because I was promised $5 for B's and $10 for A's and since I was always one to count my chickens, I had already planned how it would be spent. You see, after my ship had come in, my after school habit of Minnesota Avenue Carry-out fries and Push-Pops would be supported until the following quarter. But wait...what was this "thing" on my report card. Some kind of blemish, it looked almost like a C! Well that couldn't be right because that would mean my plan would be thwarted and I had not calculated this "thing" into the budget! "Well teachers make mistakes all the time, I thought. I just wished she hadn't made it with me. My folks are gonna "kirk" and I'd sure hate to be Ms. Hatchet right about now!"
Well here I am folks. Nearly twenty years later and the tables have turned. It was report card time and I was informed that my daughter would receive a "thing" on her report card. I was infuriated to say the least! Just as infuriated as the time she came home and repeated what her teacher had explained to the class... "It's OK to be average!" I 'bout fell out! This must be some of mistake I thought and... I'd really hate to be the teacher right now! I mean I had just e-mailed her teacher the day prior and she assured me of her grade. "Ooh...Ms. Teacher is gonna get it!"
I called the school right away - no answer! I was forced to leave a message with her counselor. I then waited a whole 10 mins before calling again. No answer...again! At this point my "kirk" level began to steadily rise as an e-mail was formulated. It was not a nice e-mail. I was finny break em' down like I was in an old school pencil fight! I then came home later that evening and watched my daughter drop a single tear as I told her what she would receive. "Oh, that's not right Daddy. I turned in everything! "You put that on everything?" "Yep!" "Ooh, the counselor and Ms. Teacher are both gonna get it!" What an occasion I thought, and a perfect time to pop the cork on that bottle I'd been waiting to open. It was a vintage 1991 bottle consisting of a perfect blend of consequences and repercussions!
Well fam, while home practicing my pencil fighting techniques and preparing my palette as well as my dissertation, the young one returned, again with a single tear running down her face. She wanted to fess up and come clean. "I didn't turn it in Daddy," she said in her small voice. "Huh what?!?" This couldn't be. Was this a blatant face-to-face display of falsiticity??? Had I been lead astray??? Help me! This was sure to cause a "Black out" episode of the highest degree! (See Blog entitled "Discipline...") This would mean I'd have to go back and eat my words and those words were NOT tasteful! I would bet they tasted like chicken though. This because I thought I'd chicken out and reply to the e-mail instead of calling!
So here we are. I stand before you twenty years sober. All because I got my first C and had to detox from my fry and Push-Pop habit. It was tough but necessary. I say If it wasn't for Ms. Hatchet I'd be 400 pounds by now! Hopefully my daughter will in some way find some good in this as well. We shall see. Maybe this experience will motivate her to be a writer??? Her six page dissertation on lying was pretty good!

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Misunderstandment...

2010-01-29T08:18:00.000-05:00

There he was...my son standing in front of the mirror in tears screaming as if his face had just taken an elbow from the "Macho Man" Randy Savage! Examining himself in the mirror, and noticing the blood running down his chin, he calmed down a bit and posed the question, "Is it gonna hurt?" I then put my belt down on the bed before answering. The buckle had just broken and I was on a mission to fix it. "No, no, it's just a loose tooth, I said. It won't hurt at all - KIDS...GO GET YOUR DADDY THE NEEDLE NOSE PLIERS!" For some reason the kid started up the wailing again!

So my children are growing up! My oldest is nearly a teenager, the middle one NEEDS deodorant, and my youngest is loosing his first tooth. With him experiencing this special period in his life, I took him to see his older yet UNSURE brother for advice. "Look at your brother, he's lost plenty of teeth, I said. Now he has the uncanny ability to pop PEZ with his mouth closed - I mean that basically makes him an X-Man!" The crying continued.

It was then I realized that I was in a special period in my life as well and that I had a few things to think about. Things like, I've only got about ten years before my daughter introduces me to her first boyfriend. This as I thoroughly clean my gun at the table! The fact that I only have a few years of coolness left in the eyes of my boys, and finally that I'd better start explaining this whole "Facts of Life" thing!

Well I'm not that much of a slacker! I've already explained it to them...well attempted to anyway. I can't say it went how Dr. Phil would have hoped. You see, a while back, ole Snaggletooth asked where babies came from and I gave it to him straight! I explained the whole "Mommy-Stomach-Born-Baby" thing. It ended with him in tears...again! This time adamantly explaining in between breaths that he had no desire to be in Mommy's stomach...or to be born! "I DON'T WANT TO BE BORN AGAIN - DON'T MAKE ME BE BORN!" he exclaimed.

Now as hilarious as that was, it no doubt showcased my strong need for enhanced communication skills and possibly hindered his views on Christianity! It seems that it was all a HUGE misunderstandment and I'd confused everyone. My daughter had no clue why I fantasied of cleaning a gun at the kitchen table, my middle son had no clue as to what PEZ was, and my youngest was dumb founded as to why I needed needle nose pliers or how lethal a top rope "Macho Man" elbow could be. But trust me people, I'm me...I'll get it straight! All I need is my..."HEY! DIDN'T I TELL ONE OF YOU TO BRING ME MY PLIERS?!? WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, BRING ME MY BELT!"...Oh...All I need is my Bible! Ugh - Now why are they crying ?!?

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Transitions...

2010-01-27T10:17:00.000-05:00

Quick question friends... When was the last time you visited a playground? Man what a difference between the new ones and those old dusty ones we had when we were kids. As dusty as they were though, it served as a magnificent source of joy and entertainment for us all- that if we survived it! I mean who could forget such deathly contraptions as the See-Saw to which I affectionately refer to as the "Tender Tot Cranium Cracker," or the Merry-Go-Round? Now that was a lovely invention. We learned from it the principal of Centrifugal force and introduced me to my first head bashing with its signature move the big kids nicknamed the "Merry-Go-RoundHOUSE!" You know, it proved nearly impossible getting on and off of one while in motion. A dangerous transition you'd better be ready for or be prepared to catch a flying metal bar to the face! It is for this reason that the word "transition" leaves me with a rather “unmerry” connotation.

Transitions...It's the going and the coming, the coming and the going. A seemingly indefinite series of changes proving constant, and for children, it can prove to be rather scary - This even when not on a playground and especially so for children who are products of divorce. It seems the divorced life is sure to provide its fair share of transitions. It leaves you stuck in the middle dizzy...and sick as you yell for the big kids to stop spinning it so fast. You want to get off but you can't. The world continues at its pace and there's not too much you can do about it.

For me, experiencing these transitions brought about by divorce made me feel as if I was on a never ending See-Saw. One weekend I was in the city and the next in the country. One weekend I'm spanking my lil brother in Techmo Bowl and the next getting the beat down by my older in Double Dribble. Looking back, I had the best of both worlds I guess. Two parents that loved me but two lives and families to which I had a hard time totally acclimating. I mean, I'd go away for one weekend and felt as if I'd missed something or would be. One foot in play and the other on the ground leaving me in this virtual playground of a life grappling with contraptions created to develop its participants for the better.

You see, divorce didn't react in me wishes that my parents get back together but simply to minimize the emotional "Merry-Go-Round" of it all - to stop the spinning. Now just as it is off the playground, I never wanted my kids to experience such contraptions. It was never my intentions to have them feel what I felt and get caught under the "cranium cracker" - but such is life. I've learned that some things we can't control and all we can do is make our best attempts to minimize our kids' injuries but still allow them to have the best of both worlds.

Now as a Dad, I'm left in the same spot as my parents, loosing my kids within the playground of life wishing they had better equipment for which to develop their young minds. Making sure they walk that fine line between joy with laughter and stitches with scars. Helping to make their transitions just a bit easier. It seems all we can do as parents is teach them the best way to go about living this life the right way and the best ways to have fun. Well that and show them that I'm not too old to swing on the swings or perform my signature "Penny Drop" from the monkey bars!

Answers...

2010-01-25T09:20:00.001-05:00

As I made my lone trek down the highway my eyes became consumed with tears and my emotions consumed with fears. My actions, they became engulfed by the totality of them both. With complete concentration on an answer to my question posed, the pitter-pattering of raindrops across my windshield emitted the only sound. They made themselves apparent as they scattered whichever direction after hitting the windshield in what seemed a random vector. My vision turned to them and the question of "why?" now consumed my thoughts. It seems the weight of the life altering, emotionally tearing and breaking news had found me...and I for one had no clue I was even lost.

With this epiphany I began counting backward from ten fully expecting and demanding and audible answer from God of my inquiry. I mean, I felt I deserved one and I needed it to solidify my shaken faith. I was not concerned with why the once united drops dispersed with a crash and trailed off in different directions, or why that car beside me sped up as if it were not raining at all. No concern at all why that same car had just cut me off only to slam on brakes. I was down to "5...4..." when I looked through my tears and HIS own that I received my answer. It seems all things had its purpose and culminated in that one moment. It was not what I was expecting at all. The car slamming on brakes paused before switching lanes in front of me. Its tag number prominently displaying a Bible verse to which I was not familiar. I jotted it down while still listening in silence for my answer. Then, as my countdown ended I found the entirety of my faith consumed within the scribbles of my pen.

Looking back at my actions, what nerve of me to demand an answer from my creator. To put him on a clock in addition to demanding how it's served to me. I was done. My reservoir low and faith empty. I guess my thinking was relational to my being a parent. I thought about how we're to explain to our kids why they are being punished or tested as to make the experience profitable for them. Surely God wanted this experience to be profitable to me! Surely my world was being turned upside down for a reason. You know, I didn't particularly care in which direction my future pointed me, I just needed to know that this all had a purpose and my way not lost.

Gripping this piece of paper in hand brought about even more demands. "This had better not be some random message requiring me to understand Hebrew to decipher it, I said" I wasn't going that far, I wasn't searching any further. No parables or situational stories. I needed straight talk real fast! In eagerness and anger I found myself searching for a place to pull over not far from where I was. It was no doubt a dangerous place to be but no more dangerous than where I was emotionally. I grabbed my Bible from the back seat and found the scripture and read the answer to my question. In red letters it said that He was teaching me how to love -nothing more, nothing less. I was shaken and confused, pondering it's meaning.

In the year to follow I posted that scripture everywhere trying to figure out this love thing and what HE meant. The words were plain enough, I was just a kid being taught a lesson about something I had not yet been entirely privy to. Occasional glances brought about new meanings every day. I mean I thought I had it down, knowing how to love, but little did I know how love could be to ME. Looking back, I now see how nothing was random. It was not random that things happened the way they did. It was not random that I was on that rainy highway overwhelmed with tears, or that the pitter-patter of those raindrops caught my focus. Even they had a purpose. Once united, these drops dispersed upon impact multiplying into smaller droplets spreading out. Well it seems I had experienced a windshield experience of my own and my brokenness spread out for the world to see. With my eyes having had its tears wiped away and my emotions now consumed with joy, I wouldn't change my experiences for the world. Hopefully I can have as much impact as those raindrops as I spread my life, gaining the attention of others to show how God can love you through the scribbles of my pen.

Pressure...

2010-01-22T08:00:00.001-05:00

So I'm standing at the foul line and looking down to be sure my Reebok Pumps aren't crossing the line. With them laced and just beyond it, I look up to the referee as he bounces me the ball. He then lifts up two fingers indicating "two shots." A quick look up at the scoreboard tells the story. My team is down one point with six seconds left. My concentration changes to the orange goal. The same goal that I'd taken thousands of shots before. It was as familiar to me as the glass backboard. I knew its bounce, its feel, its challenge. Another quick glance around the gym revealed members of my family and friends. Further inspection also revealed my new "girlfriend" wide eyed with excitement. I'd just asked her if I could "Have a chance" right before starting the pre-game lay-up line. My focus returned to the rim as the gym became engulfed in silence. I proceeded to bounce the ball in line with my foul shot ritual and my elbows bent along with my knees. The shot goes up and a few onlookers stand...

Today, what I realize is that the pressure felt in those very moments would become to me as familiar as the goal to which I was to shoot. Long after that shot would fall short and barely scrape the rim, I recognized this as life's "Pressure 101" course. At that time the pressure was so great that it turned my stomach bringing about a strong desire to run to the bathroom for about 20 to 25 minutes! With that experience though, I was unknowingly being groomed to become as clutch as Tiger over a putt or MJ in the fourth!

Receiving the ball for my second shot proved a hundred times more pressure than the first. I learned at that moment to control the pressure and not let it control me. To get myself together or promptly change my undies! I really had no choice! I felt my heart rate decrease and my confidence grow. My pre-shot ritual of pumping my shoes six times and wiping my hands on my biker shorts went without a hitch. The ball arched through the air with perfect rotation...

You see, at that very moment I had defeated pressure. I was able to grasp it and use it as strength. Whether that shot went in and the team had won or lost, I would have passed my first course and been on my way to obtaining total "clutchness," and actually being mentioned with the aforementioned Hall of Fame members inducted before me. But that day it would not be so. The outcome of that day rendered no high fives or overtime even. No chants of my name or accolades, only a hard clanging sound off the back part of the rim while both the ball and I fell to the hardwood! Then, as the team picked me up off the floor, I received a pat on the back and heard in a raspy voice a random question by some old dude! "You know the difference between a shooter and a scorer son? Huh?" I contemplated this in the bathroom following the game for about 20 to 25 minutes!

All in all, that experience is as much apart of me as the many times I've succeeded. Today I breath pressure! I know its bounce, its feel, its challenge, and when to take Pepto-Bismol! And although I could never make it up to my teammates, or get another "chance" with my now old "girlfriend" because she dumped me as I made my way to the can, I can however, make it up to myself. This because in this game of life for me, the outcome is yet to be determined but verily I say unto you, I will NOT make the same mistakes! I've learned my lessons but am still unsure of how to answer the old dudes question! I will, however, never rock Reebok Pumps again and will always, always carry with me proudly...my "Masters degree in Clutchnessity" along with an extra set of undies...just in case! Trust me! This whole parenting thing requires it - I really have no choice!
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Investment...

2010-01-20T08:04:00.001-05:00

Investment - It's one of a million ways to obtain wealth and riches, to enjoy a diet of steak and shrimp or...poverty and food stamps, Raman noodles and spam! What I mean is, investment is a tool that should be used wisely. This because it's taking what you already have and putting it towards something you think will return a profit. This is nothing new I know but I've found that helping my children understand this concept wasn't as easy as I thought. Helping them to understand that choosing to invest in themselves is far more lucrative than anything else was, if nothing else, an experience...

Once on a balmy summers' day, my children banded together to come up with the bright idea to go ice skating, indoors of course. Being the Dad I am -BROKE, I thought this an excellent idea but on one condition. This, if and only if, they could finance it on their own. After rubbing their nickels together they decided to start a car wash business. I was thrilled! I gave them the tips and tricks along with the ins and the outs and sent them on their way. Twenty minutes later they came back with less money than before. Apparently one nickel seems to have been lost in the excitement! As exciting as all this was though, they found out quickly that neighbors were not willing to trust their precious beamers and benzes to a bunch of hyper preteens with no soap...or sponges! I immediately suggested that they not give up and invest in their new business. That they buy their own soaps and sponges and bring on a few neighbor kids to help. They agreed. With this I decided to invest in them and provide them with a few duckets to buy a few buckets - an investment if you will.

Funny thing this agreement. It lasted all the way to the gas station where they begged to spend all this newly gained startup capital on giant bags of Skittles, soda, and some gooey concoction called a Star Crunch that ended up stuck to the back seat of my car! Unfortunately, they never made any money washing cars that summer and they never did make it to the rink! It's seems their lack of investment in themselves proved to be detrimental to their business leaving them with upset stomachs in addition to being hot…and sweaty!

That night, as we sat down around the dinner table together and divided up the Spam, I explained to them why I allowed them to put themselves in such a position. That and why they should abandon their search for the shrimp in their Raman noodle pouch labeled as such!

Parents, lets see to it that we keep a can of Spam on deck for a time such as this and prepare our children for the business world. Expand their thinking to the point where they are not simply satisfied with an office job but desire to own the building in which the office resides. Not just to be a sports star but to sign their checks. That there are results to their actions in the business world just as in anything else.

You know, I think the kids learned a very important lesson and I'd bet when awarded the next "Duckets for Buckets" bail out they'll be sure to invest properly and put forth the effort to afford them the opportunity to do whatever it is they want to do, including dining on steak and REAL shrimp. That they'll be successful in reaching their goals as they reach for the stars and rainbows. They'd better...because literally reaching for the Star Crunch and "tasting the rainbow" proved to be, if nothing else, an experience they'd never forget!

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Jeopardy...

2010-01-15T09:20:00.001-05:00

I'll take "Things that begin with the letter "R" for $1000 Alex."

"Ok, for $1000 - This takes a lifetime to build but only a second to destroy?"

"What is reputation?"

"Correct!"

Reputation is defined as the general estimation that the public has for a person. Look, we've all heard it said before, "This person has a reputation for being (insert term here)!" With that being said, I challenge you to insert a term you think most people would use when referring to you. Remember I said most people, not the lady who gave you the two finger salute after SHE cut YOU off while driving! Come on lady- my kids didn't need to see that...and how are you gonna take both hands of the wheel!?!

Continuing on... I was frantically attempting to get the kids out of the door one morning when I overheard my oldest son whisper to his brother "Keep me out of it and don't mention my name, ok?" I then heard his brother agree with him. What kind of pact was this, what agreement had been made between the two? I was intrigued and I had to ask. "Leave your name out of what?" It was then that he explained the story of how the prior day his younger brother had gotten called out for talking at the Do Jo by an assistant. His big brother, noticing she had made a mistake, saw fit to speak up to point out this mistake. It seems he was standing up for his younger brother. He stood alright - They both found themselves standing side by side in the corner! It reminds me of the movie "Life!" One dude tried to help the other and ends up being asked by some bigger dude if he's gonna eat his cornbread and his good reputation ruined!

In reality, we see it everywhere, folks tossing these reputations, along with 80 million dollars, right out the window because they made a minor error like bringing guns to work. Ok, that wasn't exactly minor but nevertheless it happens. Families are destroyed and lives altered. Moving further...while having a good reputation is a wonderful thing to possess, we should beware of keeping it. ***Hear me out*** I say be aware that sometimes in an attempt to keep our good name, as it pertains to the masses, more detriment to your well being can be brought about. This because the very definition of reputation refers to the general term of what the "public" thinks of you and attempting to keep up an image that falsely portrays you may cause you to further destroy the very thing that a good reputation is to represent...integrity! You see, my son must have somehow thought that I'd be more focused on his reputation than his integrity. He was wrong. I was proud of him for standing up for his brother.

Now in the beginning I asked you to insert a term as it pertained to your reputation. I'm going to assume it was positive. Now take that term and all the things this good name may have gotten you. Perhaps a job, or even that 80 million dollar contract. Next, subtract from that your attempt at contriving your own derivative of the two fingered salute in the form of a gun during warm ups and see what you have left. It definitely won’t be any cornbread!

"Alex, I think I'll take things that begin with the letter "I"

Perfection...

2010-01-13T08:21:00.001-05:00

Remember the game aptly entitled "Perfection?" What a game! As you may remember, the object of the game is to try and fit these oddly shaped plastic pieces into their designated slots before time runs out at which point the board quakes and the game pieces go flying!

You know, I used to play this game all by myself for hours as a kid. In fact, I'd like to think I was an aficionado or sorts...an expert if you will. My goal was to get it down to a science as if I were training for some type of "Perfection" Olympic games. So much so that I'd walk into any random room, take a look around and imagine that someone would challenge me and randomly breakout a game board and talk trash. I was always prepared to thrash them in world record speed! It was my hope that they'd all be amazed crowning me "The Greatest" and "chant Tron-ie Boom-Ba-yay!"

As I became older though, I saw that energy transfer to other activities such as basketball, football, video games, and electric football. Ok, just joking about the latter! Playing that game made me want to stick my finger in the socket! But while playing these games no doubt contributed to my obsessive compulsive disorder yet to be diagnosed, I think I learned a little something about not what perfection is but WHO it is. That perfection is not something that can be obtained, but a goal to strive toward.

So today as I play these games with my kids I see the same determination, the same zeal, the same attitude to never give up and it thrills me! I love it when my son will not stop until he beats the game, or they fully understand their math homework. With this though, I also get to teach them a few very important lessons. The first being that Perfection came two thousand years ago and that we should models ourselves after Him, making sure that we are placed in our own divine positions as not to cause our world to quake. And the second, which also brings me so much joy, is to explain to them just how impossible obtaining "Perfection" can be.

How so? Well, they'll all get a chance to experience the Champ first hand when "Perfection" is whipped out! Hey every lesson you teach them can't be pretty. It's a tough world out there! I figure they'll learn their lesson when playing me or actually be diagnosed with OCD - I play to win!

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Hypothesis...

2010-01-11T08:00:00.001-05:00

"I won, I won, I won!" As it turns out my friends, my hypothesis proved to be correct yielding nothing less than surprisingly spectacular results. We should all be so excited! The implications of these results will no doubt improve the lives of millions! Maybe I'll be awarded the Nobel Peace prize like Obama and win a million dollars, or perhaps, even grander, something terrific like a bowling alley!

Ok, I know you all are clambering to know not only what I'm referring to but whether you're invited to the grand opening of "Gutter Balls?" "Be cool my babies!" The answer is yes you will! So before I tell you how these wondrous results equal a better quality of life for you, I think it prudent for me to first explain its origin so you too can "get like me!"

You see, It all started as I arose a recent morning to a fresh 3 inches of snow on the ground and reports of no school. Having full recollection of our prior snow day, previously documented in the Chronicle entitled "Entertainment," the children seemingly had no issues with waking up at their normal time of 5:20 no less than jovial! Because those jovial feelings aren't shared when it's a school day, it was my intention to take action and reverse the trend and transfer these jovial feelings to me. In layman's terms, "I was finny flip the script and make no mention of the snow and treat it like a school day." It was my hope that they'd sleep in hours longer than normal.

As parents, I'm sure you understand that normal school days force me to dig deep into my bag of tricks in order to get them up and at em' on occasion. These tricks include, but are not limited to, dragging them out of bed, snatching the covers (affectionately referred to as the "sleeping band-aid") or subjecting them to the "cold wash cloth to the face" treatment! Try it, it's like the PG-13 version of water boarding! Nevertheless, you'd be happy to know that because my experiment proved successful, millions of parents world wide will benefit by receiving several extra hours of sleep on similar days. By following my procedures exactly, you too can experience this breakthrough!

Here it is...Step one: "Wake your kids up at 5:20 with a cold cloth in hand, just as a threat, and then asks if they would like a few more minutes. My hypothesis was that they'd thank me and drift back off into unconsciousness. Well, that they did my friends, that they most certainly did!

However, don't be fooled, that was only step one in obtaining total and uninhibited "jovial reclamation." There are three crucial steps that need to be taken to produce similar results as explained. I say be a partaker and advocate this movement and take back your sleep!

Step two...send in three easy payments of $19.95 to get step three! If you act now, I'll include a double coupon for a single corn dog at "Gutter Balls!" Also, as an added bonus yet still, I will see to it that all those that read my blog celebrate with me by congregating on lane number 2. Sorry, Obama and I will be on lane 1!

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Vanishing...

2010-01-08T07:36:00.001-05:00

So what happens when you're in a crowded place such as an amusement park and you loose sight of your three year old? How about at a mall or a grocery store? What happens when you call their name and you get no response? What do you do when you know you've taught them not to wander off and they are no where to be found? I'd bet your heart races and your senses heighten. Well friends, that happened to me. I lost my youngest. Not at an amusement park however, nor a mall. Neither a grocery store and not even a 7-Eleven. It was, I'm ashamed...at home! I know, I know...You're thinking "nuh uh" but you bet I did!

Well...It twas a warm and sunny Spring day at the Mason residence and in addition to the weather, the day was going superbly! There were hummingbirds effortlessly floating a few feet from my office window and a fresh breeze in the air. The neighbors were out grilling and the aroma conjured images of me hustling to the mall to get me a short set! The kids and I were out front practicing America's past time by tossing the ole baseball around. Even the three year old. I say start 'em young! I believe that as a Dad, if nothing else, they all need to learn how to read, swim, defend themselves, ride a bike, throw a spiral and properly catch and throw a fast ball. Those are just for starters and in no particular order.

Now my three year old had just gotten sent into the house under disciplinary action for his lack of effort with the lessons. This right before their Mom stopped by around lunch and mentioned that she would possibly be taking him out with her for the remainder of the day. Upon her arrival and through her departure the lessons continued. We were now well into pop-fly's! The older two were both doing well and in mid season form but no longer wished to continue. Apparently my "Follow through" and "Don't be scared of it" tirades weren't exactly helping! After my arm became wearied from rolling what seemed to be thousands of grounders, we went in for a breather. The kids turned on a movie and I somehow nodded off.

Awaking, I found myself disoriented and finding my two oldest asleep on the couch as well. I then decided to call their Mom to see how the youngest was making out and if he was ready for his batch of grounders he no doubt knew he had coming promptly upon his return! It was then that she answered the phone and explained that she had not taken him. "Remember I told you I couldn't?" "Nope!" "Remember, you were tossing..." - My heart nearly beat out of my chest as I searched the house frantically for the boy. I checked the bedroom, followed by the basement, the office, then outside...nothing. Then the remaining bedrooms and closets as I held the phone to my ear with loud garbled sounds emitting out...nothing still! He had vanished! "How long had it been? He could be half way across town by now" I thought. Continuing to check every nook and cranny, I checked the linen closet and there he was balled up in the corner!

It's a funny thing. Those feelings I'd been feeling before changed rather quickly. "Did you not hear me calling your name? Why didn't you come out? I was worried!" This I said after letting go of my chest and picking myself up off the floor... no response. Then he said it. "I thought I was in trouble and didn't want to be punished." Punished why...for what? I said. Apparently, he thought I was a bit hard on him for tossing the ball to me under handed!

Man was I embarrassed and relieved all at the same time. I picked the little guy up and held him tight and told their Mom to stop the Amber alert that was no doubt being initiated. I sat him down and explained that he should never do that again. That it was simply inexcusable what he had done. I told him to think about how we felt, what his Mom would feel like if her son...was caught throwing a ball under handed in public! I know, I know...You're thinking "nuh uh" you bet I did! Then I explained that hiding from me was unacceptable because I loved him so much. I think he got the message. The boys got quite a fast pitch today!

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Commercialism....

2010-01-06T07:18:00.001-05:00

Have you ever turned on the T.V. and come across a commercial so absurd that it just makes you scratch your head and say ShamWow? You know what I mean right? Take for instance the "Snuggie." Apparently they've sold millions of these things and I just don't get it! So, what they did was take a robe, model it backwards to couch potatoes with clickers in hand, and watch the money pile up!?! If that made money, boy do I have a bag of magic beans to sell you!

Besides that one and the many others like it, there's another to which I don't fully understand. It's a whole series of them. In the commercials, some kid is attempting to do some mundane task like open a jar to which he obviously can't. This until some sloppy dude in a t-shirt comes in and does it for him while the Superman theme song plays. Up until that point, I like it. Then they say it - "It doesn't take much to be a parent - Adopt a child" Huh...what just happened!?! I tell you all what, if all it took to raise a child was to "pop a cap" on a jar I'd for one have triceps the size of bowling balls and a whole army of kids from here to Bagdad!

Now I don't know a lot but I do know better than to think that's all the responsibility needed to raise a seed. The problem is though, that message in varied degrees is constantly poured into our community until that absurd notion becomes reality. The reality of so many black men especially. Is it really to far fetched to believe that the only male role models or figures, for that matter, in a kids life would be on T.V.? Nope! Then in some cases that child's reality is based on fiction and the obvious not so - not to them.

Ok, maybe you say I'm reading too much into this. I just might be but I know that advertising companies believe what they believe. They believe that the African American community models themselves and purchases what "They" commercialize and by "They" I do not mean the white man necessarily. "They" includes all those with influence over our children from the Hustle Man to Gucci Mane. By the way, at the risk of sounding old "I'm not against rappers but I am against those thugs!" Know that I don't care about their material possessions nor the women with whom they pay to be in their videos! It simply lacks substance with the message being "I am what I own" when your reality is "what you own owns you!" Oh, that and the fact that he buys into the notion that anything can be accomplished by actually "popping a cap!" - ShamWow!

Look, all I'm saying is that we need to make sure our children understand their culture and what the world thinks of them, from here to Bagdad, so they can react accordingly. I say sit down with them and the clicker while wrapped in your Snuggies and have them decipher a possible intended message attempting to be portrayed by "They" in those commercials. Whether, it's to purchase a BigMac or a BigMic, or simply that they think black men dressing up as women is hilarious, try it. Hey, I'll try it with you. I'm far from above reproach. My daughter got a pink Snuggie for Christmas and it feels real nice like. I think I might buy one - better yet...maybe I could trade one for these magic beans I bought! I'm out - "Gucci!"

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Dreamcatcher...

2010-01-04T07:41:00.000-05:00

I opened my eyes to a purple sky. My awakening prompted only by the rain faintly falling on my eyelids. My left hand began to feel pressure as though being squeezed and crushed. My lips seemingly only capable of omitting silence. That seemed of no matter. In addition there was a faint voice to which I was unable to decipher. Then other voices on top of the others still. All proving incomprehensible. I was wearied. My head began to feel as though weighted and my eyelids heavy but no doubt open. Open to see the city streets before me and the rain drops whose rhythm beat on me. The color of it the hue of a certain orange.

I took with me those feelings and stood. While feeling weighted, my stride felt as if my whole was consumed in weightlessness. I began to walk those streets. My peripheral vision noticing the scenes, noticing those lurking in the shadows. I kept my pace with no indication of me noticing them and stepped off the sidewalk in a subtle attempt at avoidance. They noticed me however. No sooner than my first step toward my intended destination did those within the shadows emerge. The creatures were red in color and no doubt wanted to harm me. My stride quickened and so did theirs. My pursuers' four legs proved to be quicker than my own. They overcame me and I succumbed as I was unable to elude them. Their nails were as a humans and began to pierce my arms when they captured me. My eyes flickered with the sensation and a new vision appeared. It was the face of my mother, but it only flashed.

The creatures disappeared one by one as a voice spoke my name. I turned to see the street sights collapse and that same purple sky falling. The orange rain now dissipating with a piece of the purple haven landing with a fall on my arm. The exact location as the piercing of the nails. I could only describe the pain as a hard excruciating pinch. At once I again saw her face - her expression able to be deciphered. She was stone faced with despair. Why was this happening, what had I done?

The year was 1991 and further inspection revealed my state. I was coming to and it all made since to me. The sensation of the gripped hand, the downward pressure on my head, the multiple voices crying out, and the feel of the hard pinch. I took a quick glance at my arm- the pain still lingering. It was as purple as that dissipated sky and those orange droplets...well...

They proved to be a direct result of the squeezed Capri-sun pouch I'd sneaked in earlier. It's contents now cascading down my face and arm. It seems I had fallen asleep in church during prayer and was awakened by two hard pinches by my dear mother. Ironically enough, she'd become my dreamcatcher, saving me from the pursuers who wished to harm me and protecting me from my nightmares.

As parents now, it's our job to become dreamcatchers and see to it that we protect our children from those things that wish to harm them and give them a little nudging when situations and foreign feelings overtake them. To make sure that they listen to the message being spoken as to assure that their perceived nightmares do not become their reality. Well... that and to get our revenge and coming toos by making sure our pinches are just as legendary!

That was not the last time she'd save me but you better believe I got the message. Always...always...hold Capri-sun pouches at the top!
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Giftmas...

2009-12-30T08:53:00.001-05:00

Well friends, Christmas is over and we now begin our countdown to the new year. Ah, this is truly a most wonderful time! There are so many things we can do to end the year right and so much to look forward to in 2010! What do I look forward to you may ask? Well for as long as I can remember, scientist, engineers, and novelist have long professed this to be the year of the flying car, beam teleportation, and Jetson Astro dogs! I would say to you though, don't get your hopes up. You and I both know those will not happen. Disappointingly enough though, please allow me to make a suggestion. I suggest that you just change your outlook on technology's failure to live up to its promises. Do this by looking at it like the obviously clothes filled gift box left under the Christmas tree when you were a kid. You appreciate that it has your name on it but know that there's no possible way a dirt bike or a BB gun could fit into one of those things. On top of that you feel slightly cheated when your Aunt says "Bay-be, before you open up anymore gifts, go try on those drawls and corduroys to see if they fit!"

Ok, maybe that was just my Christmas of '87, but Christmas in '09 proved to be bitter sweet. I woke up to no little ones looking me in my face. No one excitedly asking "can we open up the gifts now?," and no one to which I'd have to reply "It's 3 o'clock in the morning! Santa hadn't even finished his rounds yet!" This because I long told them that no fat man in a suit will ever see fit to shimmy down a chimney for the sole purpose of doling out free gifts! That and because they spent Christmas Eve with their Mom. Man, I would have loved to have seen their faces as they crept down the stairs and saw all the gifts wrapped and dressed, longing to be stripped naked to expose their inner parts. Wanting to be used...to be abused! And yes, the graphic language suggested is necessary. If it's too much for you just cover your eyes and peek through your fingers!

I mean, that's how it all goes down right. They get all these new toys and abuse them until the wheels fall off or the drum set has a hole in it, and by the end of Christmas vacation you'll say, "How is the destruction of such a toy even possible!" And they'll say it. You know they will. You know the words I speak of. It makes their eyes droop, heads hang low, and arms go limp. The dreaded words..."I'm bored!"

Yep! You know it'll eventually get to that point and you know why? Because material things have a way of getting old, to fall apart, and break down. It really doesn't matter what it is. Eventually your Mercedes will rust and the elastic on your drawls will stretch, your pearl necklace pop, and your corduroys a hole at the knee. At which point your momma will make you wear them to school with a patch and everyone will laugh at you... whispering. Whispering just like the time you got a Starter jacket for Christmas long after it was played out. They whispered...Star-ter...I still hear them...whispering. Again, let me stay in '09!

What I'm trying to get at is that Christmas shouldn't be "Giftmas." We should teach them what the real reason for the season is and have them appreciate that which doesn't fade, chip, or break. Have them change their outlook and appreciate He whose love is everlasting and never disappoints. To accept, and look forward to that very gift of eternity Christ was born to offer because His gift is much more valuable than a Mercedes or pearls. He was stripped naked, His eyes drooped, head hung low, and His arms limp. Makes me want to cover my eyes! So go ahead, put the other things down and try His gift, with your name on it, on for size. I promise the only stretching involved will be His hand out to you!

See...plenty of things to do before the new year begins and even more to look forward to in 2010!
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Heroes...

2009-12-28T09:11:00.000-05:00

Ok, on the count of three name your favorite super hero as a child. 1...2...3...*What???* Dudes, we are so not on the same page! I couldn't make out what you said but it didn't sound anything like He-Man! I bet it was because "The Defender of the Universe" chose to rock tight briefs, high fur Jesus boots, and what looks to have been some sort of ancient school bus patrol belt! Besides those minor shortcomings, I would bet you picked some other character because, well, we all are different and simply desired varying qualities in a super hero. Qualities that we ourselves would have liked to possess someday. Wait, let me clear that up. Know that I have never ever, in any form or fashion, wished to don or condone any of He-Man's apparel...well except for the sword, because that was cool and you know it!

For me as a kid, heroes played a huge part in my life and I would dare say yours as well. This because heroes allowed us to think outside the box and ponder the impossible. Think about it. They did things that no one else could do. They flew, they leaped tall buildings in a single bound, wore cool utility belts, and in my hero's case, rode a magical panther! In addition to all those things that kept our attention they, end the end, always saved the day.

Now some of you will be relieved to know that as I became more mature my heroes did as well. This because I knew better than to think that a cape would allow me to fly or squinting my eyes really hard would produce blinding lasers. These new heroes of mine no longer carried shields, super suits, or swords. In fact they weren't super at all. Well, it's still debatable. That one I claimed as a teenager was pretty close. He wore biker shorts there for a while under his get up...and the number 23!

With that being said, let's drop the super part and focus on plain old heroes. A hero is defined as a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities. Well, that takes number 23 out of the running. The latest pics posted of my adolescent hero were far from noble. This leaves the door open for very few individuals...one of them being YOU! In this world, we are all given choices and those are absolutely free. It costs us nothing to obtain distinguished courage or ability, to be brave or noble. It does however take. It takes us going through trying situations to prove that we are all those things. I say that since life will no doubt see to it that we all go through those trying situations - become a hero in the process.

You may be surprised to know that I've found that our kids aren't much different from how we were as children and still desire the same qualities everyone wanted in a hero. Well, except for He-Man. They think he's pretty lame! Example... The boys and I had just finished wresting on the bed. I had just performed my signature move, the "Double Daddy Bomb" where I simultaneously slam them both on the bed. I flexed my mus-kuls real hero like and slyly asked..."Who's the man?" One replied, "Triple H," and the other "The Big Show." Both wrestlers, neither of them me, both wear tight briefs! You know, after hearing that, I wasn't disappointed at all. I sensed, for them, a natural progression in their hero selection and more opportunities to make the right choices for me. Choices that could one day put me in the running of being their hero.

It's an ironic thing, this hero progression. Now that I'm grown, my heroes wear a shield of faith, a breast plate of righteousness, a helmet of salvation, and a sword of faith. Isn't that something? They don't sound too much different than my original "Supers!" I guess, in reality, not much has changed. They all ended up carrying shields, super suits, and still to this day,(if we're on the same page) the coolest of them all, the sword - and you know it!
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Entertainment...

2009-12-23T08:18:00.000-05:00

Entertainment - man what a concept! Whether it's sports or the opera, movies, or toilet tossing, we as Americans spend over 50 billion dollars a year on it. That's more than the combined gross domestic products of no less than 10 small countries! This makes it nothing less than lucrative. Only in the United States of America!

I imagine that entertainment has come a long way. Maybe it had its humble beginnings with Adam setting up animal no-holds-barred and body bag matches for the first Granny Smith apple, or maybe began when the Romans first introduced Gladiators to the world? Whenever it started, boy has it evolved. Why it feels like just yesterday that I was being entertained by table Pac-man and grooving to "It takes two" down at the local Shakey's pizza joint. Those were the days! The days of high top fades, neon PUMP shoes, TGIF TV nights with Family Matters, and...wait for it... McRibs! I get goose bumps just thinking about it.

But today fellow parents, the forms of entertainment presented to our children are endless. They have the internet, game consoles, board games, TV's, DVD's, PSP's, and that's just in their rooms! With this being the case, I believe as parents, it's our job to limit those entertainment options and teach them to choose more productive forms that would better prepare them as adults. As with anything, entertainment has its choices and it's the choice of when and what forms of entertainment you participate in that makes the real difference. With that being said, I think it's there we should focus. I mean, for me, just for me though, I'm all about having fun, but avoiding prison time, drug binges, and leaving a casino flat broke is a bit of a priority.

So riddle me this? With all the entertainment choices the kids have today, why do they insist that we as parents constantly entertain them? "Where are we going? What are we doing that's fun?" It's almost like they expect me to dance nickelodeon style across the room while I desperately hope for them to spare my life with a thumbs up gesture. I'm thinking to myself, didn't I obtain "shields" level from this by providing you with siblings?!? Are you not entertained?!?

Band together with me parents and step our games up to the point where they entertain us! Go back to the days where we stand them up on the fire place and make them dance, sing, tell a joke -something! I say teach them the in's and out's of the entertainment business in a controlled environment right in the comfort of our own homes - and when they ask for compensation, because you know they will, tell them you'll pay them some ridiculous amount of money. Then proceed to deduct the cost of living charges until their net pay rhymes with hero! What did they think?!? This is the United Sates of "You have to pay your dues first!" I get goose bumps just thinking about it!

Check out their snow day performance @ http://youtube.com/watch?v=bDFhKj4t2YI
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Relationships...

2009-12-21T09:29:00.001-05:00

"When I'm alone in my room sometimes I stare at the wall and in the back of my mind I hear my conscience call. Telling me I need a girl who's as sweet as a dove. For the first time in my life, I see I need love"

Relationships...What is a man coming off of a divorce to do? Certainly not sit around quoting lyrics from a 1980's rap song by LL Cool J. But it does put me in the mood to love. Sike! - I'm way to hard for all that soft stuff! Those who know me will attest! "I'll take a muscle bound man and put his face in the sand...!"

As you're no doubt now mumbling the words "I'm Bad," I'll move on! When I hear the word "relationship," my thoughts immediately turn to dating, flowers, movies, restaurants, then to overblown holidays, disagreements, arguments, proposals, engagements, more arguments, affairs, and then one spouse chasing the other down the street smashing a nine iron through the window of the family Escalade after running into a fire hydrant! This relationship thing is scary - the horror!

Ok, so my view of relationships is a bit jaded I must admit. I imagine that a normal and sane person might take it a whole other direction - like concentrating on the bond they have with their family and friends. Or even their vertical relationship with their higher being. Yeah- that's what they'd think! Well, whatever nostalgic place the word takes you, we all must have relationships, invest in them, and build on them to be successful in this world.

I say, let's see to it that our kids understand this process of building relationships. This so they can grow up to be the cool kids! I'm joking...well only with those who weren't actually cool in school! Let's be sure we teach our children to value not only the time loved ones spend with them but their own time as well. See to it that they connect themselves with the right people while learning to both set and accept proper boundaries. To appreciate everyone's gifts and talents and use those to inspire themselves.

You see, I believe that as people we need others to survive. If you don't think so then you might end up...well...like the old lady who had no one to help her. She needed to plug a lamp into the wall which just so happened to be down behind her mirror and dresser furniture set. When reaching for it, she slipped and ended up...well..."end up!" They found her dead, two weeks later in that same position! Sad!

I don't know about you but that seems like a pretty bad way to go! Look, I'm not saying that getting into a relationship will cause you to loose all your endorsements and a tooth, or even that not getting into one will leave you between a dresser and a hard place, but what I guess I mean to say is choose your relationships wisely.

As for me, being recently divorced, my situations have caused me to grow and be a bit more picky about those I choose to invest time with. This in no doubt has made me a better person I believe. And you know what they say..."choose the right one or pick-pick the kiddies up!" Because my cool friends told me that LL isn't cool anymore and quoting songs from this decade might allow for a higher relationship success rate!
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Disappointment....

2009-12-18T08:37:00.000-05:00

A young boy teared up right before my eyes. I could see him build up to it. First it was the steel expression on his face, then the lowering of the head, and finally, the expected delayed reaction from a child given when he receives his first shot. This however wasn't a shot. No physical pain exerted. This was worst. He was disappointed!

Disappointment comes in a plethora of flavors and is served as a desert we all must stomach. It really doesn't matter who you are. You can be the surgeon who looses his first patient, a millionaire sports star who misses the final shot, or this case, where my son watched his siblings progress at a higher clip to obtain their next martial arts belt. He was told that he was not ready!

As adults, each one of us could easily create a long list of perceived disappointments much easier than accomplishments. This because we feel its sting. It penetrates the core of our being and lumps right in our throats! If it is within our power to do something about it, we are challenged to do so. If it's not, like the time "Pee-Wee's Playhouse" went off the air, we must learn to simply accept it!

So what did I tell the boy when I recognized his pain??? I did only what a parent could do, I pulled from my MANY experiences with disappointment and shared how I didn't make the basketball team my freshman year in High school. The time I didn't pass my first IT certification exam, and when I walked out of that interview confident and never received a return call - I'm still a little bit bitter!

After explaining all this in vivid detail, he had several questions. What is a freshman? What is a certification? And, Dad, why am I not good enough? I replied, son... I'm not your Dad! Sike nah - I realized that everything I'd said didn't mean a thing. What he needed to hear was that he was not a failure and, in this case, he had the opportunity to defeat disappointment with hard work, dedication, and perseverance. That he could do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens him!

With this in mind, I changed my tactics a bit and left out words like perseverance, and told him about the time I spent two hours in the gym, alone, everyday after school to improve my basketball skills. The times I spent staying up half the night for weeks to try and pass that test, and then the time when I made several follow up calls to the hiring manager of that job. I later received a call asking me "When could I start?," I made the basketball team the following season, and I passed the exam after my third try with flying colors and bags under my eyes!

In the end, I think he understood that anything worth having takes commitment and hard work. I also think it's that commitment that we put into something that gives it its true value. Oh, and about Pee-Wee...My son will soon understand all my "Big Adventure" hype! The Hermster is making a comeback to the Playhouse at age 56!

Well, that was my initial reaction. In my eagerness, I found an old Youtube clip of everyone's favorite 80's funny man. Imagining a 60 year old guy in a "skinny" gray suit with lipstick well...reacted in me a steel expression on my face and the lowering of my head. All the symptoms were there...I was again disappointed...and disturbed! I'd rather have a shot!

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Human Nature...

2009-12-16T08:26:00.000-05:00

"Human Nature" - Man what a song! MJ really out did himself with that one didn't he!?! It's still to this day one of my all-time favorite songs. Whenever I hear it, my eyes automatically close and my lips begin to whisper "why, why..." Everyone does that right???

So what is this "human nature" thing the King of Pop was singing about? Well, Webster has an answer, and no I'm not talking about the little person of a child star he used to parade around Neverland Ranch! The dictionary "Webster," defines it as "the nature of; the fundamental dispositions and traits of humans."

For me growing up, I was always under the impression that people meant well, and to give them the benefit of the doubt because well...that's what I would want. You know, the golden rule: (in a dragging monotone) "Treat others like you want to be treated." While I still try and live by this, I now take into account that others just don't believe what I believe. That's cool - but the problem is that the 24k (Korean) golden rule I carry on my person sometimes turns me green.

How green you ask? Well believe it or not folks, there was a time in my life where I was nearly kidnapped as a child. How...you wonder??? Shocker! - I was led astray and enticed with a chocolate chip cookie of the finest caliber! I remember it being quite delicious! There was another time though, when I was much older, I won't say how much older, that I agreed to sell my first house to a rather shady individual. I ended up loosing nearly $40k (thousand)! And yes...it still hurts down there!

Well friends, times have changed and ole' Tron won't be taken out to the shed with the ole cookie trick anymore! You see, life had a way, as you may have noted, of showing me human nature in the raw! I began to doubt and distrust nearly everyone. Cynical would be the most appropriate term. I did a total 180. No more trusting, and definitely no more cookies! I held on to the scripture that says "The heart of man is desperately wicked, who can know it..." And I simply didn't trust people at all. To me, they were as predictable as a Scooby Doo episode - The mask was always sure to be pulled off in the end!

I mean "how could I trust people God?," I would ask. "People will lie, steal and cheat all the while looking you in your face. I want no parts of it, I said. How could I ever show love to people who see fit to hurt me?" Then I looked at the "man in the mirror" and saw how that statement rang so true! Had I not once lied, cheated, or stole, and yet, I still had the opportunity coupled with the nerve to complain about how others treated me!?! I was truly shown grace - for I needed it.

What I eventually learned was that human nature, in all of its despicable ways could in fact produce good and be used by God. This because, it was from that same imperfect nature that he sent nothing short of actual Angels into my life to help me in my times of need. He also used it as a mirror to show me that the very person I was complaining about was none other than myself...steady singing "If this town is just an apple, let me take a bite!" All the while God closed his eyes and whispered "why...why..."

Miracles...

2009-12-14T09:42:00.000-05:00

It had to have been about a year ago now. The sting of divorce still penetrating the very core of our family. The hurts, the separation, the change of it all weighing like a five hundred pound weight on my back, a thousand on the kids. It would take an act nothing short of spectacular to shake it - to find a solid truth in a world crumbling around them...a miracle...believe it!

We came home one evening, the kids and I, to their Mom's car in the driveway. She wanted to tell them goodnight before she made the journey to her new home. Standing at the door I saw my daughters heart rip into pieces as her Mom left. The tear stains on her face already ever present were wiped away only by fresher pains inducing more cascading tears. I was not strong enough to hold back mine. We both sat on the foyer floor crying, the boys perplexed as to why any of this was. I was broken - that they had never seen.

Something else they had never seen, the boys noted in the midst of this that the dog did not greet them at the door nor come when they called his name. We all banded together to search for him with my mind wondering if I'd let him out in the morning and forgotten to let him back in. Panic stricken, we searched the house, every room and every closet, then the neighborhood, twice. We spent that night, all of us mourning seemingly yet another loss.

The next morning I called every shelter and pound, had his implanted identity chip activated, (I know - don't ask) and then we waited. That evening proved to reveal itself with erie similarity to the last. No Tiger, more tears. I clearly needed a miracle that night, they needed one to solidify that something in this world couldn't be shaken. We prayed that night in an unusual place, all of us, at the foot of my daughters bed. In their world, the most poignant pain being their last. They prayed for the return of Tiger.

After we ended our prayer, I vowed to find him as I exited to put the boys to bed. As we reached the door, Tiger in no doubt materialized from under her bed shivering and shaken. It was exactly what we needed!

You see, although I could search for explanations like, maybe I missed that spot in haste, or he was sick and solitarily hiding to lick his wounds. Truth was...I had not and he was fine except for going through the whole "materialization" process! The fact of the matter is that some things need not be explained but accepted for what they are. He was lost and now found. They had come together in His name, prayed, and it was answered! For that night, their solid truth was now a spiritual one tangible to the feel of fluffy fur and a wagging tail.

Truth be told, that as a parent, it's only a few lessons we can teach our children and many they'll have to experience on their own. It is those times that we must rely on miracles - believe it!
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Perspective...

2009-12-11T08:21:00.000-05:00

It was a warm summer's night in our quite suburban neighborhood at the Mason household. The kids had been playing outdoors all afternoon and with time winding down until bedtime, I decided to shorten our evening ritual by calling in a pizza. While waiting for it to arrive, I sent the boys upstairs to take a bath. They were thrilled with the idea! They would take out their bath toys, turn on the jets and have at it! Soon after, I made my way upstairs to find them soapy and tossing toys - water everywhere! The doorbell rang and I made my way downstairs, paid for the pizza, and went back upstairs to tend to them. It was then that I found my youngest son mumbling words unable to be made out and clearly upset while my oldest boy floated in the tub face down and not moving!

The sight of such a thing caused my heart to nearly beat out of my chest as I ran over to grab him screaming "What happened!?!" Before his brother could answer, I pulled him out of the water with the same force exerted by "Sho'nuff" to the then drowning "Bruce Leroy" in Barry Gordy's 1985 cult classic, The Last Dragon! With water splashing everywhere I noticed him take a breath...then he said "Dad, why did you do that? I was about to beat the record!" Apparently his younger brother was counting and visibly mad that his older brother had already beat his time spent underwater! Play time was over - I removed the bath toys!

In life, I've found that many things aren't as they first appear because each person sees a situation from their own perspective. This includes everything from the made for TV magician specials to relationships with people. For example, often the way in which we meet people or our position within the audience of a magic show determines what we think of the people we meet or the show, perspectively.

With that being said, I believe that as parents it's our job to teach our children to put things into proper perspective when making decisions in life or simply encountering things we don't understand. Have them try and mentally remove themselves from the situation and take into account others feelings, backgrounds, and view points. This will give them a broader view of both themselves and the world around them.

Seeing my son in the tub floating like that brought about thoughts I won't even attempt to describe. He was jarred by my reaction and I by his actions. Grateful that the worst case scenario didn't play out, I explained to him how I saw it and how that should never be done again. This unless he really wanted my heart to "beat out of my chest" but to know that it wouldn't be before I did some beating of my own!

By the end of our conversation I think we both understood each others point of view. I mean the boy clearly had an undeniable talent for holding his breath! He then calmly asked for his bath toys back. I calmly suggested that he remove himself from the situation and...oh, not to hold his breath!

Balance...

2009-12-09T09:03:00.000-05:00

Ok, so every so often I get asked about my life as a single Dad while being gazed upon as if I'm a gorilla just beyond the thick glass wall at a Zoo. You know...you lock eyes with him and you think you have a connection until he abruptly begins to pound on the glass, moon you, and tight walk with an absurd display of balance back to its "special space" (Where we can still see him pick his nose). Well, I won't do that...today anyway! I'll answer the questions of "how do you manage the house, get them to school, do activities, and stay sane?" My secret...I actually stole it from the gorilla - balance!

As expected, my life as a single Dad can be hectic at times. How hectic you wonder??? At one point during the last school year I was faced with all three playing soccer with practices/games nearly everyday! That meant that in addition to toting them to and from practices, I had to keep the house clean, cook dinner, take care of the dog, help with homework, wash clothes, build relationships with friends and family, and assist with coaching for one team, all the while continuing with my body sculpting regimen of watching my 8 min ab video!

I tell you, by the end of the school year I felt like...well...like I really understood that gorilla! For me, balance was the key because all those activities needed to be planed out, organized, and carried out without me passing out! Early on I realized that if I didn't take care of myself I couldn't take care of them. That then became my top priority. "Taking care of myself" meant to take vitamins, get proper rest, pray without ceasing and do at least 4 mins of the ab video! At first it seemed impossible...get more rest and do more in the same 24hrs...impossible right??? -Wrong!

My next secret is...(This one's free but the next one will cost you) getting rid of the TV! Yes, I did it - I don't even have rabbit ears people! I stopped letting the great time thief steal my precious time and energy. Soon after, I began picking up books (instead of my nose), and reading. I found that it had been not only been stealing my time but my dreams.

Hear me out...It was always curious to me that whenever some celebrity was asked about some movie or TV show other than their own, they rarely had a clue! They were too busy investing in themselves and following their owns dreams rather than watching someone else's play out in front of them.

So there you have it friends...my great secrets laid out before you! Know that they are not mine...I stole them from the lives of such great leaders as Booker T. Washington, Frederick Douglass, and Nelson Mandela. All when I took the time to read their autobiographies.

Oh, and know that I'm not without the assistance of their Mom when it comes to caring for them. I fully advocate kids spending as much time as possible with both parents. Now I'm heading back to my "special place" to wonder what ever became of that Tony Soprano character!

Stress...

2009-12-07T09:21:00.000-05:00

What an interesting topic...this thing called stress. We all have it, some to higher degrees, it affects us all in different ways, and we handle it differently. This always made it seem rather elusive to me. I mean, can you ever properly diagnose it, grasps its stages, or treat it? Many would say yes but for a long time - NOPE - not for your boy!

I would have to say that becoming a father at the age of 17 allowed for stress to practically...how do you say???... "Ravish and have its way with me!" I remember a time staying up late in college spending hours finishing up a computer program only have it disappear with the stroke of a key and having my two year old wake due to my stressful "reactive expressions!" The ambient glow of my laptop - her night light. At times, it was so overwhelming that I'd just ignore it. I mean, stress or no stress, things had to get done and I wasn't about to cave in.

It wasn't until a few years ago when I found myself at the emergency room for the third time that week that I decided that I should probably take it a bit more seriously. I couldn't even talk and this was not due to a vow of silence! I'd go to work, pick up a call and literally be unable to speak. My mouth would move but no sound. When a diagnosis of stress was even suggested from a doctor it immediately made me utter he word "riiiiggghhht!" That was then followed by a litany of thoughts as to what school they'd gotten their degree, fully convinced that they had no clue or a problem with "giving up." Then again these were doctors in DC, giving them a higher probability of being Skins fans and they "punt" all the time!

After finally humoring the doctor that stress didn't just exist in Muppet land, I found ways to deal with it. For me, my favorite stress release just happens to be running! It's getting out on the track after my "best laid plans" at work go awry or my kids just "can't get right," that it all disappears! Really- who can think about anything when your mind is trying to reason why you shouldn't run the last mile and your body suggests that you should have stopped after the first!

You see, what I needed to realize was that we all have stress and we all need several of our own outlets for it. We don't all have to be teenage parents, single parents, or even parents at all for it to a variable in our lives. I am however convinced that it quadruples with your first diaper purchase!

OK...I realize that I was a little late in figuring this whole stress thing out but I felt obligated to bring it to your attention. Take from it what you might and try the track thing. Take the kids when they act up, it's pure torture for them to watch you run around a track or "God forbid" run a lap! Muuuaah ha ha ha ha!

Bottom line is that stress is real and as parents I urge you all to find a convenient solution to dealing with it before you are forced to take advice from doctors who may be Skins fans!

Conversation...

2009-12-03T10:55:00.000-05:00

The other day while I was in my car grooving to little Tevin Campbell's "Can we talk" (Circa 1991) and simultaneously doing the bankhead bounce when my oldest boy tugged on my shirt..."Daddy can you buy me some skinny jeans???

Ok, don't worry people I handled it! Realizing the importance of such a subject I had to address it...like immediately! I calmly turned down the radio (my 90's radio high fully blown at this point), pulled over and hung my head. After a few seconds I figured I'd get myself together and help the boy out! I mean wouldn't you feel like a failure of a parent if your kid asked that question in public? So I had to school him about the perils of skinny jeans.

You know, having that conversation made me think of that scripture that says "Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up...." This is referring to the Word of course. This got me thinking.
I began calculating the amount of time I spent with them in the car and decided to make better use of that time instead of filling it with sports radio and music, barring more important things like listening to The Temptations "Silent Night" of course! This only because listening demands nothing less than complete silence! Surely the Big man understands that one!

What I found was that this conversation fruited endless topics that could be used as "teachable moments!" As a parent I find that I often assume they know things like..."drugs kill your brain cells" or doing stupid things to fit in with the "in" crowd isn't always the best thing to do. I urge you parents out there to do the same-teach them what you know- teach them about the time you wore your jeans backwards to school because "Criss Cross" did so!

Bottom line is that we all do stupid things but don't let your kid be Sams (the one the principal talks to on the roof telling him to jump because he's wasting his life away!) Love them through it with conversation from you is all I'm saying -then teach them the bankhead!

Support...

2009-12-01T10:07:00.000-05:00

True Story...

I was at a pee wee league football game once and this kid, he had to have been about 12 or so, was streaking down the sideline about to score. The crowd was going crazy and as he ran down the sideline- so did the kids mom! Upon reaching the end zone his friends celebrated with him and swore that they'd seen his mom give a mean stiff arm to the defensive safety close to the sideline. Now that's support, embarrassing I'd bet, but support nonetheless!

I must say, I don't think I'm as dedicated
a parent as that young lady but I see how it could happen. You put so much into your kids that it just happens. Kinda like when I used to feed my kids baby food and my mouth would open as I fed them. It's almost as if you could live their lives for them - but we can't. That's why we must, as parents, give them the support they need while they're young and sometimes that could mean just being there.

You know, one of the earliest memories I have of my step dad is being taken out to some elementary school basketball court to shoot hoops. The problem was, I don't think I was strong enough to even get the ball to the rim. That meant a lot of ball chasing on his part! Again, not sure I'm up to that task.

Today, as I remember all that support and dedication sowed in me, I feel obligated to at least jog down the sideline a little bit- but only real cool like of course! And although my kids haven't played a lick of football as of yet, I feel up to the task - they've done soccer, gymnastics, dance, and basketball where my youngest son took his first steps.

It is my hope that I can one day influence my kids to be just as much as a source of support to their kids as I try to be to them. The way I see it, as parents, we have an awesome responsibility because what we do will determine how future generations prosper.

So I say, make as many games and practices as you can, chase as many balls as it takes, and practice your stiff arms whenever you have the opportunity! Oh, and I wasn't embarrassed at all when I saw her nearly beat me down the sidelines that day. She was the reason I scored because I would have never lived down getting beat to the end zone by my momma! I dedicate that years' MVP trophy to her!
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Competition...

2009-11-27T08:21:00.000-05:00

You know friends, nothing gets me going like a little competition and it's that subject to which I'd like to concentrate today. You see, as a parent, I purpose the tool to teach my children how to conduct themselves in situations of both winning also losing, but most importantly to build their self esteem. It seems to me that exposing my children to the spirit of competition affords them the opportunity to experience, early on, many of the valuable lessons life has to teach.

With that being said, many studies have concluded that competition and keeping score should be excluded from the early childhood curriculum. It is to those studies I emphatically thumb my nose! If it hadn't been for fierce competition at an early age in my life (Glory to God) I wouldn't be the person standing before you today. Look at the facts people...I eventually went on to peak and win a city title for the 10 and under Tastycake Jr. Basketball Bullets! ** I poured in 6 points that day!

So how does one obtain such status you ask? For me, the evenings and weekends of my youth were filled with fierce competition thanks to my brothers. I remember times we'd play basketball from sun up until sun down and in between those times came Power Pad battles of epic proportions! It is my recollection that many a game had to be halted due to "fisticuff escalation." This because one of us couldn't hold our own in Contra or Jackal, or simply put, the intensity level in our head to head Techmo Bowl and Double Dribble battles ended in last second defeat!

As parents today, technology has ill afforded us the opportunity to sit on our laurels. The original nintendo is an artifact of the past and in a world where Guitar Hero and Fight Night rule, it is my responsibility to equip my seeds with those same lessons that catapulted me to greatness.

I challenge each and every parent to have the desire to have your children surpass all your hopes, dreams, and greatness. To have all mine become better than myself - that is success! So get involved and use competition as a tool to take them to the next level, build their self esteem, and oh...serve 'em a piece of humble pie when they snicker and challenge you to a battle in Guitar Hero! In the words of Grandma Klump "I ain't no easy win sucka!"

**Those 6 points scored in the pregame lay up line in no way counted toward the official score and therefore did not actually contribute to the victory in any way!

Bottom Line - Kids keep score when adults don't!
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Discipline...

2009-11-25T07:24:00.001-05:00

Let me begin by first saying that I cannot publicly endorse butt whippings nor will I admit to or deny me participating in such, so from here on out I'll refer to the act as...lets say... "blacking out."

Example- If I went to the store and my child fits and makes imaginary snow angels in the middle of isle 6. I might go home and "blackout." Or... I'm at home and my children, in unison, decide to use foul language to describe how they felt about doing their chores. I might "blackout" three times!

Now that we've gotten the basic lingo needed to continue our discussion, I can tell you about the time a dear aunt of mine, bless her heart, "blacked out." It twas a sunny day in the country and I wanted to play with my neighbor friend who lived across the field. Being only six or so, I'd never made that journey by myself and was told never to. Taking that into account I asked my Grandfather who must have been half paying attention for permission and he said for me to go ahead. I made my way across the field and had a rather enjoyable several hours. Upon my return I was taken by surprise by the greeting of that dear aunt who asked nothing more of me then to pull off a switch from the plum tree out front. "But I told Granddaddy!," I exclaimed. He somehow did not recall our exchange. (blank stare) My aunt to this day probably doesn't remember what happened next.

What she may remember though is her conversation when she came to. I just don't...but I'm pretty sure it went something like she loved me and needed to teach me a lesson of what could happen when a little one sees fit to run blasé through the fields.

I've learned that as a parent, the most important thing you can do for your children is to discipline them and that includes sitting them down and explaining to them how they got into their current situation and have them repeat it back. This allows them to take ownership of their actions. Lastly, tell them you love them and how the "love they just felt" is nothing compared to the scenarios that could have happened otherwise.

Bottom line, discipline your children with love and never out of anger. Proverbs says "Spare the rod, spoil the child." Now that book, I publicly endorse!

Dreams...

2009-11-23T08:17:00.000-05:00

OK, so I woke up the other night in a cold sweat. I couldn't tell if I was hot or cold. I seemed to have lost all orientation of my whereabouts. In total darkness, my heart rate was in decline but I could still hear it beating. The last thing I remembered was being chased by the Cockatoo lady in an episode of Zoobilee Zoo! To make matters worse, I was dressed up in a Lion suit and skipping more so than running! If you've ever seen the show and can remember the theme song, you know the horror I've experienced. What a nightmare!

Now pull yourselves together people, that's not the type of dream I'm referring to. I want to focus on dreams defined as a condition or achievement longed for; an aspiration. As a parent, I've taken note from those before me and found that it's important to allow my kids to dream and make visual representations of those dreams. Allow them to see their faces in place of the Miley Cyrus' or Zac Efron's of the world (neither of whom's views I wholly endorse) - to see their names headlined in the articles.

To do this, I've recently implemented a tool in my household called...the dream board. Our dream boards are made of nothing more than white board decorated with colored construction paper and stamped with magazine and newspaper clippings of their dreamed futures.

The thing is that it didn't take anytime at all to take pics, have them cut them out, and let them have at the periodicals. What I'm banking on is that their dreams becoming visual may someday turn into a tangible reality. I would only caution that proper supervision be provided. One of them cut out my face and pasted it over a Doodlebop! Currently neither of them have confessed. This in no doubt contributed to my loss of sleep that week!

Bottom line... my nightmare was worth their dream. Don't be afraid-it's worth the chance...take that chance and don't say you never had the chance.

Publish Post

Intentions...

2009-11-20T11:51:00.000-05:00

A short walk down to my neighborhood pond with the kids one summer evening yielded us the opportunity to see the miracle of life at work within it. We saw birds flying over, small fish, tadpoles, and even a crane nestling in between the cattails. For me, the way the water ripples over the surface always gets me thinking of the “butterfly effect." It’s the idea that one butterfly could eventually have a far-reaching ripple effect on subsequent historic events. Likewise, it’s interesting to me how the effortless toss of a tiny pebble can set in motion the disruption of the ponds entire surface.

Relatively, as parents, it’s our responsibility to provide our kids with the understanding that everything they do, every decision they make, can eventually have that same far-reaching effect on their future. Evidence of this truth can be found cemented in stories from the prison yards to the graves and conversely from the Oval office to the pulpit.

As we stood leaning against the fence, my oldest was thrilled to see a small frog making its way up the grassy bank just within her grasp. “Can we take it home?” she asked? “Sure, but only for a little while, it needs to be at the pond with the rest of its frog friends,” I said. Eagerly they ran home and searched the house to find their old Dora the Explorer insect kit - complete with a clear vented case perfect for such an occasion. Once they returned I explained to them how they must treat it. “Keep it in the case, and out of the sun.”

I must say that the kids did as they were told. After a few hours, I suggested that we carry the frog back down to the pond to release it. They agreed…although reluctantly. We returned back to the same spot as before. Still being rather close to the street, I intended to put him closer to his “family” by tossing him into the pond. We all watched it fly through the air and belly flop land with such force as to cause a massive ripple worthy of a tadpole tsunami! “2 points-score one for Dad!” I said, including a double fist pump! We waited for it to swim away. It never did. I presided over my first funeral that day.

Bottom line, “the path to destruction is often paved with good intentions.” Be careful and note that your intentions, however good, should be taken into account with the possible consequences of not just you, but all others involved.

Encouragement...

2009-11-19T09:11:00.000-05:00

Hey Followers, I'm back and like the title of this blog indicates, I'm encouraged! I'm encouraged for many reasons...well four to be exact! That happens to be the number of followers I've gained since my initial post! Shouts out to you all!

OK so what exactly is encouragement really? It's defined as "the expression of giving approval and support; boost: the act of giving hope or support to someone." Reading that definition gave me the opportunity to look back over my own life and access how I've been encouraged.

My earliest remembered form of encouragement came when I was just a young whippersnapper. I might have been 5 or 6 and the question was posed..."What do you want to be when you grow up?" My Aunt must have asked me during some point of a "3-2-1 Contact" episode because I blurted out...uh..uh...a Professor! I never really wanted to be a professor, I think I just wanted to rock a lab coat but it was too late -my fate had been sealed! For the next 15 years my Aunt called me "The Professor" every time she saw me. It wasn't until college that I got up the courage to tell her the truth. This after I'd gotten enough of my lab coat fix during Chem 1 and had to be forced into it for Chem 2.

You see, being the young lad I was, I took her attempts at encouraging me as an interrogation until I realized that some people were never asked that question. Really!

Now as I enter the classroom of my oldest boy I see pictures and writings of what each and every student wants to do when they grow up. The teacher posed the question to them as a project. "What do you want to do when you grow up?" - Most of the boys said professional sports stars, some teachers, and one lone child said a Doctor. I was proud of that child. That was not my child. Mine said "To jump off the roof of his house with a trash bag" -attached to a full color animated graphic! Distraught, I figured I'd redeem my parenting outlook and ask my princess who came through with a "veterinarian." Sweet! I should have stopped there because my youngest said a "tiger!"

The bottom line people is that you should be careful how you pose your questions, never give your child an opportunity to watch backyard wrestling, and that positive encouragement goes a long way in ones life. It is my belief that my use of encouragement in the lives of my children will greatly impact their future. It is true that their minds are as clay and we as parents must boost them with hope and approval to assist them with their own growth into becoming successful contributors of their generation- not just consumers!

My savior said "Have faith in God. For verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea; and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass; he shall have whatsoever he saith."

So encourage your children and speak their dreams into their lives. For me, I'll be addressing my children as such...Dr. Mason, WWE Superstar, and to my youngest..."Go get em' Tiger!" I'm proud of them all.

Inspiration....

2009-11-16T23:18:00.000-05:00

Welcome all to my first blog! I was never really into blogging but lately I've been inspired to do so. Personally, I've always looked at blogging as the modern day "message in a bottle," meaning it's pretty much a toss up on who actually reads what you have to say. In movies, I've seen it used as a last resort for some helpless sap stuck on an island - their only hope for rescue written in desperate diction on whatever medium available. They usually roll it up, place it in the bottle, and cork it. Next, they give it the "ole heave-ho" into the ocean.

I mean seriously people, do you know how far you'd have to toss that bottle to get it out pass the tide and if you were somehow strong enough to toss it far enough, it'd most likely hit a rock and shatter. But humor me and say it makes it, they still won't be able to find them...but I digress. Even though my apprehension toward blogging has its merits I do see the principle behind it. The principle is one of hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, hope that they themselves and future generations will have more options (not just coconuts to eat), but a better way of life. It seems their dire circumstances inspired them to attempt such methods and so here I stand with them...inspired.

With all that being said, I think it prudent to explain why and how I was inspired to create the blog "Chronicles of a Single Father." For me, it's a way to pour into the lives of that unsuspecting person walking on the beach. It's only fair, I've popped the cork on many a bottle in my day! (OK, THAT CAME OUT WRONG) What I meant was that so many before me have poured into me and I only hope to carry that on to help others in my situation benefit and continue the legacy of excellence started before me.

It all began with the suggestion of someone very dear to my heart. Someone who thought that my story should be told because no one hears about the experiences of young black single fathers raising their seeds. Single mothers YES, but dads... not so much. I guess that makes my story rare if nothing else. In this world, rare means valuable and it's the value you place on yourself that determines who you become.

My value came from the late nights and sweat from my grandmother in the back kitchen of a restaurant for 40 years. The start of a trash company by my grandfather with only a basket and a mule, and the strength and determination of my father to NEVER allow me to "touch that trash." It's those things that inspire me. It wasn't that touching trash was beneath me to him (because I was always tasked to take it out), but to propel me in a direction of thinking past what his own possibilities and options were. These among others you'll learn has made me the person you see today..still here...still standing...and attempting to continue that legacy of excellence. I do hope you enjoy!