Caution...

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...

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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Changes...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

"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...

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....

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...

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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