Pride and Joy...

It was a random dreary morning at an even more random hour.  A time before the sun had yet been appointed to rise.  I sat there baffled as to why I wasn't dreaming my usual dream of making the Hulkster tap out from a perfectly executed "figure four leg lock."  She sat there gazing at me with these huge watering eyes, obviously not dreaming at all!  While I was baffled as to why this was, what I did know was that she was no doubt angry.  So much so that she let out a cry of so epic proportions that it seemed an incapable feat from a growing infant.  Given the hour, a few solutions immediately came to mind.  Pacifier? Check! Clean diaper? Check!  Milk warmed by the 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 with every pace down the hallway.  Till this day, I remember it being somewhere around the 1,474th pace that the sun began to rise and she must have began dreaming of whatever babies dream of.  I imagined baby "leg drops" from the bottom rope!  As I laid her down on her side of the bed, snuggled in this wedge contraption, seemingly deemed the capital of this sort 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 eighth grade.  Today, I stood with watering eyes as I snapped awkwardly angled pics of her exiting said stage.  For me, the reason why I felt this way was no mystery.  I was simply filled with pride and joy.  In fact, 13 years and countless paces of it!  Next, I watched as she accepted my flowers, but only after brushing back her hair and smiling a smile as radiant to me as those sunrises we once experienced together.

Apparently though, I wasn't alone.  As we snapped away with our cameras, I noticed a gazing boy and fellow graduate possibly attempting to grab her attention.  Instinct said to take my many nights of training and make him tap out with that surely perfected "figure four leg lock" maneuver!  Quickly though, I drifted back to different times.  I drifted to thoughts of those 1,474 paces, those random dreary mornings and even more random hours before the sun had yet been appointed to rise.  It shifted to my...pride and joy!

Make it rain...

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...

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...

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...

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!

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

Beautiful...

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!"

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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Ode To My First Love...

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...

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)

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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Inappropriate...

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!

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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Total Transformation...

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!

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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School Daze...

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.

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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Playground naiveté...

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...

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...

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...

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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Surprise...

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…

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

Preclusion...

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...

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…

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

Foresight...

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...

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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Success...

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!...

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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Mistakes...

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...

 

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.