Not GoodBye...it's time for Rebirth

A lot has happened in the weeks that I've been away from the blog,

From Vacay in Bahamas...

To new developments in fatherhood...I've grown a lot

That's not a mustache btw...its a choco-stache!

Housing...and the nomadic life that I've led in  Brooklyn, Queens, Philadelphia, and Long Island is no longer my passion to write about....I'm starting a new blog...but it will focus more on fatherhood, fashion/lifestyle, cooking and photography...rather than the things of the Nomad...

So...thank you for following my blog, my select few (lol) and pretty soon you'll be getting an email from a new blog, same dude, different perspective...

This will be for the new Dads of this era, those that love us and those that hate us.  Though I am unmarried this will be for the betrothed and the single alike, this will also be for the baby mommas, cousins, uncles, aunts, gfs, wives (ex), and all those in-between.  It will be a demystification of the bad rap fathers get, and a response to the overwhelmingly negative representations of us that are out there.  It will be a place where I share my culinary experiences as well, my love for all things fashionable but cheap, and a place to talk about relationships as well. And maybe just maybe I'll throw in some jargon about education (i am a teacher after all)...

Until then....

I bid you adieu...

Soon, every day will be Fatherhood Friday!

Humbled, Pleased, and Negligent: My first blog award!

I've been awarded my first blog award by the author/blogger at the quickly budding, hot, chic blog: Tica Tattle .

It certainly is not a manly award, but I appreciate any type of accolades one can get. Especially in the face of the summer, where my posts have become few and far between. I'm humbled by the fact that someone with a blog so awesome and a follower number that has far surpassed even her expectations, can find time to give love to a blog that is still very much on the come-up.  Her blog has a lot of character, clever anecdotes and tips on everything from travel, to parenting (she is my co-God-parent for our beautiful God-daughter, Summer!) If you are one of the few people in my personal or blog circle who haven't checked her out, do so by going here .

So apparently the way this goes is that I tell 7 things about myself, so here goes:

1. I relate to Jack Nicholson in "As Good As it Gets" with the OCD.  I used to religiously avoid cracks in the sidewalk while trying to keep the idiosyncracy from being noticed by anyone I was with.  When I stepped on the cracks, I'd feel it.  My mom tried to talk me out of it, to no avail...i masked it well, and she forgot about it, i didn't though!

look @ dem pearly whites!

2. I'm pretty self-conscious.  I'm semi-obsessed with avoiding obesity, maintaining a good physique and I sometimes wish for perfectly straight choppers like Tyrese.

3. I'm also a bit obsessed with finding ways to make more money, either for myself or for others. Those close to me has had to endure countless random brainstorms on making money selling homes, investments, selling water, and even charging for designing blogs *ahem* (that wasn't directed at me by the way, I'm not very good at blog designing).

4. I love the sax, I plan on buying one before the end of 2010. I played for seven years in my younger days and was able to play songs like "In a Sentimental Mood" (think of the sexy, jazzy ballad from the movie Love Jones).

5. I'm pretty dramatic, at times.  I think I'm a weird mix of drama, realism and logic. But I can be dramatic.

6. I get very anxious about things.  I'm a bit hyperactive and I have a hard time relaxing or sitting still.  I think so much that it's hard to sleep.  I move so much that it's hard to relax, and when I relax, I feel like i could be doing something better with my time than relaxing...and the cycle continues...oy vey...

7. I'm a social butterfly.  I thrive in social situations.  I don't mind being the only one dancing at parties. I speak to strangers on the street, just to say hello. I'm a firm believer that the world isn't as big and cold if we would just try to be nice.

There goes my 7 things.

Now to pass the award...hmmm...

1. J Design -- He's a manly man, but my first recipient of the award goes to J at Jaedesign.wordpress.com.  This brother works very hard at making some fresh graphic designs for logos, fliers, twitter backgrounds, streetwear, and the list goes on.  I've witnessed him at work, from the tutorials, to the research to the final product.  I'm proud to say that my first recipient I know personally, for over 26 years (I'm 26 btw)...
J, aka Juny, aka Jonathan.

2. AMOR - Ms. Amor is another friend of mine.  We go way back to the awkward and formative days of HS.  Her blog is a revolution for women who don't fit the status quo standards of beauty.  She's a plus-size model who represents for the sisters who aren't seen or heard nearly as often as they should in the fashion world.  She's also a great writer.

3. Cool Guys Travel - this may seem like a plug, but it's not.  It's dedicated to men, especially men of color, who are reluctant to travel.  It's encouraging travel through pop culture, anecdotes, and, of course, peer pressure.

4. Sam's Chai has a smoothness that's reminiscent of the drink in the title, hence the blog's title is appropriate.  Sam has some great advice...go follow

5. Life's a comic strip .  If you like sarcasm, humor, wit, and illustrations (who doesn't like pictures?!).  Check this blog out. It's sure to put a smile on that cool nerd mug...

6. Single, Infertile Female .  I know, this doesn't sound like something a man would be reading on a regular basis, but I've always wondered what my reaction would be if I couldn't have kids (or my partner).  She explores her own feelings and the alternatives that medicine, love and a persistent attitude brings.  Check her out...it's a triumphant endeavor for us all...

7. Is it against the rules to give an award to something you've contributed to? I hope not, but the Tica cannot escape this. In a matter of weeks the I'd Rather Be Reading blog has become a happening place thanks to the creativity and genius of Tica and her partner in crime Anika, esq.  This blog serves as a place to discuss the read for the month, and some people who'd like to be a part of the actual book club but can't find their way to the blog and let their voices be heard...like Mr. Carson...so for that i say, kudos...because chances are, if you've gotten this far in this post, rather than being at work or watching TV, you've proven that you'd rather be reading...

That ends my post for the day.  I apologize for seeming remiss in my duties as a blogger.  I'm getting my life together...

Love Conquers...

Twenty six years on this earth is not a long time.  It's not even fractionally significant in God's divine time, yet He has offered so much grace and mercy to me already.  The reality is that God's love is so unfathomable to us because of how imperfectly we love.  "Love conquers all" the Bible declares yet, in our lives, when love stings we run away from it, shun it, curse it, as if it's our job to pay love back for the very shortcomings that disappoint.  But what if God did that to us?

Imagine then that the lustful thoughts you had that Tuesday night were held against you the next day, right away? That the lie you told to your family to keep them together was revealed to them? Imagine that all your dirt from your life, the things that will lead people to judge you was revealed in the sky, a celestial hd experience for the world to see narrated sarcastically and condescendingly by the Master on High. Now imagine that this happened all in the comfort of your living room with nobody knowing but you and God, and that after the dirt was shown to you, after the tears of regret and remorse stained your cheeks, God smiles, like only God can smile, ejects the DVD, cracks it, and tosses it into the abyss.

Now replace God with a person.

Not very likely.  See we live our lives full of insecurities, walls, cultural barriers and emotional safe-havens to keep from experiencing pain. We believe that the best parts of our lives will be painless and joyful and positive. What this creates is a false seeking of euphoric experiences, and a cursing and damning of trying times and "transition".  We forget to look at the beauty in ALL things, not just the obvious like childbirth or vacations abroad. We neglect to find beauty in crying for someone who we lost, the beauty that someone, if even for a moment, affected our lives in such a positive way that their absence will forever be sorely missed.  We refuse to believe that living situations that uproot our comfort and keeps us on pins and needles, couches and floors, fans and space heaters, are beautiful especially because when eventually that is replaced with love and warmth, central air and heating, serta perfect beds and sleep numbers we will be eternally grateful.

We also forget to see the Beauty in that Christ, our friend, will never do those hurtful things that others do that eventually jeopardizes the integrity of our relationship with them.

I guess the remorse and pain of this post may or may not be evident.  But heres the bottom line, my real talk if you will.  Love can conquer all, and imperfection can be beautiful. Mistakes can make or break moments, but it shouldn't make or break your life. Judgment is up to the almighty God, and Love is done better by no other than God. So, if we are to find truth in seeking the Divine, we must learn to forgive, and not cheesy I forgive you forgive but you will forever be burned with the fire of my contemptuous stares for the rest of your days. Rather, forgiveness like you hurt me, but I love you enough to try and move forward, even if it's without you for a bit or forever.  My prayer is that those who I've cried for will find a way to forgive my neglect, my imperfection, my fallible nature, and my lack of humility and learn to love me again.  For some it's too late, they are in eternal rest, and I can never know if they had peace with me. For others, it's a phone call, an email, a text, a hug, a kiss, a look. For others it's a distant thought that's not to realistic.  Yet I'm hopeful all the more, that the spirit of God can help His people learn to allow love to abide and grace to abound...

Ultimately, forgivness is for us.  When we choose to forgive, we free ourselves from the bondage of revenge, backbiting, gossiping and all the by-products of a negative experience at the hands of another human being.  There is freedom in love and bondage in all other things.  What God calls freedom and what the world calls freedom is inherently different...but i'll leave that for another post...

Tragic idiocy...

Negligent stupidity. I am a NYC teacher. I teach teenagers from Brooklyn. I was born and raised in Brooklyn. And I cannot swim. I would never, ever take a random trip to the beach with my students. It has bad decision written all over it.

I can't swim. I never had the Need to. I was surrounded by concrete, fences, trees and turnstiles. Not to help perpetuate stereotypes but I do know how to run fast, I've done pull ups on crossing signs, I can hop a fence and climb a tree like nobody's business. To assume that kids can swim is purely suburban naïveté. Really.

Furthermore there was no parent permission, one teacher and two "chaperones" (I'd hardly call some 19 year old a chaperone) with 24 students. All of this was illegal. And yet the trip went on.

With no lifeguard on duty you allow student to use their better judgment as to how far out they can go. The same age group that will skip green beans for now and laters. The same age group that would gladly blow $300 on a gaming console than on books or savings. Kids have parents and teachers because their overall better judgment is still developing, even at 19!

In short as a teacher I am completely outraged at the teacher and administration that allowed a young scholar to drown to her death.

God help her family and friends in the wake of such a tragedy!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

FatherHood Friday (Monday): Father's Day Edition

"Without the guidance of our fathers all we know is how to double clutch revolvers" - MOP "Blood, Sweat, and Tears"




I still haven't gotten used to it. "Happy Father's Day." It's usually directed at my father, from one of my brothers or myself. It's like being the winner to a high-profile race, being the victorious underdog. It's surreal.

Father's Day has all sorts of complexities brought on by the frailties and subtleties of masculinity. Most men who consider themselves moderately to highly masculine don't look for ways to celebrate themselves (except Narcissists - like Kobe, yeah, I said it). So Father's Day bringing attention to one of the most underappreciated, misrepresented and neglected familial positions in contemporary Western culture is nothing short of a perplexing phenomenon. Nevertheless on Sunday we salute all you fathers. Dads. Pops. Papa. Poppy, etc.



People really underestimate the power of fatherhood. But through life experiences on the job (NYC public school system), in personal relationships and through study (antropological and sociological) I'm constantly reminded of what an important responsibility I have that many have neglected. Many women have hard times in relationships when they haven't had a great model of how a man is to treat a lady and vice versa. After all a father is supposed to be the first man that loves her. Likewise many of the fellas get it twisted on what they're suposed to be bringing to the table, and what realistic levels of respect from a women are; in essence a father is the first coach, first mentor, first BOSS. But this post ist about fatherlessness, but rather, fatherhood and those who support it.

I wanna challenge everyone to stop saying happy fathers day strictly to biological dads, but to the positive pioneers who support fatherhood. I can confidently say that without the support of other fathers, positive male colleagues, uncles, siblings, mothers, aunts cousins, pastors, teachers, coahes, counselors. For some it was kind words. You're a great dad. You're kid Is mad cute. Keep up the good work.

For others it's been difficult questions, prodding. Challenges. Encouraging me through tough love to push through the difficult days where the custodial commute or monetary sacrifice seems to get the best of me. For the last group it was lifestyle. People Jo just fathered kids, coached them through life. Gave their kids the iron fist, and the soft caress. Cats who I strive to be like in fatherhood. Prototypes. Thank you all.

In essence fatherhood is a community effort. Will you help support, challenge engage and love a father near you? And if you already do, happy fathers day to you too!


Posted using Blogger from my iPhone (with DJ sleep in my arms!)

Philly Move No. 1: MIceWars and Central Air

J&H.  Anyone who's gone to Temple in the 90s or 2000's know these letters with a sincere familiarity. The hi-rise dorms with no a/c.  11 floors of mayhem.  Faulty elevators, cranky RA's, drunk idiots burning food in the microwave to feed their midmorning cravings that led to fire alarms and subsequent evacuations at ungodly hours of the night! That was my dwelling place freshman year.

My first move was to a newer more sophisticated dorm for summer school. I was never one of the privileged kids with a car that my parents (or anyone else) purchased for me.  Nor was I one of those few kids who worked enough to save for one. Sports was my true commitment after school so any jobs that I did have was make chump change. So, though my move was about six blocks (three city blocks) it was tough because I literally used a hand-truck to lug my stuff down the faulty, rank elevators onto the cracky, stinky streets of N. Philly, to the other side of this well-lit campus. It was tedious, tiresome and draining. I now romantically imagine kicking beggars off the handtruck, mean mugging thugs who plotted to rob me and headnodding the ladies who admired my sheer manly strength as I used my sculpted guns to U(hand)haul my stuff. Of course none of that actually happened.

1300! considering that this was a dorm whose address was 1300 Cecil B. Moore the name is fittingly lame.  Condescension aside the dorm was fly.  Apartment style with kitchens, cheap living room furniture and central air...compared to J&H this was HEAVEN!

Not much exciting happened here...I got second in a hotwing eating contest. The wings weren't that hot to me, I lost to a dude that was 6'5", 245...i'm 5'8" 160 (155 at the time).  My team also lost a game of dorm feud (like family feud). The prize was $50 gift cards to PATHMARK! FREE GROCERIES! Here's how it happened: it was the last round and our fifth player (who was a little slow I will add) went up to the buzzer -- which was a soda bottled that needed to be knocked over (to count as a buzz). Now, by slow I mean intellectually slow not reaction time slow because when the question was posed: "Name a famous mickey..." she knocked the mess outta that bottle, but she blurted out still in an adrenaline rushed, idiotic stupor: Minnie Mouse!

WOW.

Name a famous mickey: Minnie! Needless to say we lost and I never ever spoke to that slow slow again. Ever. Seriously. (If i saw her today I'd act like she didn't exist and tell anyone who was with me -- probably my son or Tica -- this exact story).

The last interesting thing that happened at 1300 was my epic battle with a rodent my first night there.  Ok, the battle wasn't epic but it was pretty amazing.  I was on the phone late-night with my self proclaimed sister from DC.  She's a Jackson too, just not actually related...and in the midst of talking about random nothings I saw a critter run from my room to the refrigerator! GASP! all the karate chopping beggars and mean mugging thugs I forgot to make handtruck roadkill out of leeching mice?! oh no!

I immediately paused my familial conversation and went to the refrigerator and bellowed a manly grunt/yell while lifting the fridge.  Yes, my adrenaline was pumping. The critter (usain)bolted from under the fridge and was running along the perimeter of our living room.  Enraged I (usain)Bolted across the room and began kicking the couches, as if I were to have impeccable timing and smush that sucka onto the wall.

I returned to my conversation which now turned into a three way conference call with my actual twin and my friend while I eyed the couches intently, waiting for that rodent to come peeking at what i was doing...mice are so nosey!  He didn't (no, there are no female mice in my head, only males, it makes the violence against them appropriate). After 40 minutes of wait time i decided to be the aggressor so I went to move the first couch that I Kicked and much to my pleasant surprise the impeccable timing i thought I had, I DID.  There was the putrid remains of the rodent who thought he could (usain)bolt faster than me! I won! He lost. He's dead. I'm alive.  But the was merely a foreshadow of things to come in my next place...on 29th and Diamond Street...

Insomniac Post: Sleep Deprived brain disorder

Not a real disease.  Just made it up.  I am awake.  Yes it's 1:53am on a saturday night/morn. Yes, technically, if I had more of a social life I should be up anyway. The truth is I wanted to be sleep four hours ago. But of all the things I can be bad at, of all the things to say, I suck at _____! my blank is SLEEP!!

I'm always up.  And when I'm sleep, i'm kind of up. I dream of good dreams so vividly that I never truly dream. I'm constantly concocting schemes to be better at everything in my life, or to rationalize, justify or challenge many things that may be going wrong as I lay on the bed, couch and sometimes floor, of places I choose to rest.  But I envy people who can lay down and be knocked out.  It's a blessing and sometime i fear that my sleep deprivation will corrupt my life and disrupt my longevity.  I don't wanna be diagnosed with this SPBD and have to take Cymbalta (or any other TV advertised prescription drug that has side effects worse than the condition itself like internal bleeding, shortness of breath, dry mouth, cotton mouth, trouble swallowing...lol...nor do I wanna contact my doctor if the pill gives me thoughts of suicide or paranoia)... somebody, helP!!+

Beach body...

I'm blessed to have good genes to enhance some good jeans (and T-shirts).  Part of my physique is genetic, my torso was always shaped in a way that would make toning and definition not much of an issue.  Add that to my high metabolism and my occassional hyperactivity (I do sometimes have a hard time sitting still...even when I sleep) and you have a recipe for physiological success, I'm ready to be casted for 300. SIKE!

Ok, so as the years wear on, and the date of my last Track & field competition gets further away the reality of regular life seems to settle in and the battle against the bulge begins to take center stage.  Along with the genetics of my torso comes the reality of the preacher belly (My pops doesn't drink beer, but he does preach, hence the name) that my Pops has, and his brothers, and his fellow clergymen.  I'm no preacher, and I'm no beer drinker,  AND I'm still in my 20s, so needless to say I'm not ready to part with my six pack in place of a keg. Work schedules, fast food, social life, and my culinary adventures in the kitchen all seem to work against the maintenance of my midsection, biceps, triceps, glutes, pectoralis majoris, latissimus dorsi, etc (i think you get the picture).

So, what does a real man do in the face of a battle? He becomes proactive, reads, plans and executes.  I picked up two books recently at an intellectual splurge at the famed bookstore Strand in Union Square. Both books were a dollar (I know hardly a splurge but I purchased more than these two).  One teaches about Core strength and the other is a book about exercise and diet by T.O. (yes Terrell Owens).


The Core Connection by Chris Robinson is an explanation of how your core can be strengthened using pilates workouts and a healthy diet of moderation and smart eating to activate your powerhouse.  The core (abdominals, lower back, buttocks) are an integral part of all major sports and will improve your posture while helping prevent injury.  I suggest this book for anyone who has been curious about Pilates and who may be looking for ways to sculpt your midsection from subpar to sexy.

Finding Fitness by Terrell Owens (with Buddy Primm & Courtney Parker) is both a motivational book and a sort of reflective book from the troubled, talented football star.  Due to numerous magazine cover cameos as well as a reality show most know that TO has an incredible physique. He uses resistance bands that you can find on Bodylastics website.

You don't have to purchase the whole set. I haven't yet.  But I'm not trying to spend 100/mo for a gym membership or 400 for someones hyped up infomercial. So, I got some resistance bands (not TO's) and I started reactivating my good genes...just in time for the beach...

FatherHood Friday: ComPadre

I'm a new parent.  I have a daughter now.  My daughter is not someone I met on the first day she was born.  I met her when she was like 1 month old.  I didn't know she was mine. I treated her as I treat all new babies I meet: With LOVE AND ATTENTION.

But yes, after careful consideration, I am the father!

Sounds like something straight off the Maury show, I know but seriously I am a new father.  To a beautiful baby girl named Summer. I was asked to be a Godfather.  A ComPadre (as my co-worker of Dominican descent calls them) is a job that I take very seriously. Much like my true fatherhood to my son.  I'm honored to have been asked.  It shows that someone noticed my attention to detail (with most things), my intellect, leadership qualities, and fatherhood capabilities.  Not only this but technically in the event of some sort of catastrophe (God-forbid) and the next of kin can't care for Dear SumSum, We would be next in line (Ms. Tica is also the Godmother) for being her caretakers.

There are thousands of Godparents in the United States, but few who take such a charge seriously. I wonder, though, if this is something that's inevitable, like waning contact with someone you meet who you think is a good fit for friendship, but time, and energy and schedule conflicts work against it.  I don't know how many of my son's 10 Godparents (don't ask, i had nothing to do with that one...long story and I'm not telling).

So wish me luck (though I prefer prayers) as I embark on another Fatherhood journey, a ComPadre (co-parent).  Sharing the responsibilities, triumphs, frustrations, joys and realities of parenting with Summer's biological parents.  And you can read some dope posts by the Tica as she Chronicles our journey from her own perspective.  Happy Friday.

Wack Wednesday Two pet Peeves

This will by no means be a staple, but I want to point out two things that bother me.  I think they're wack  and I just gotta get it off my chest.

1. People who constantly complain about the weather.  I live in a city that experiences all four seasons in dramatic fashion, with summer temperatures reaching a blistering 98-101 degrees (during a heatwave) and with blizzards that drop a beautiful 10 inches of snow.  NYC requires a closet ready for both extremes and everything in between.  BUT, for those who hate the cold, complaining about it doesn't help and when these same people complain about how hot it is in the summer time my patience wears very thin.  If you don't like the cold stay out of the North.  If you hate the heat stay out the south. If you hate both...kick rocks and tape ya mouth...

2. People who use curses and swearing when making religious affirmations.  I'm not one to judge folks. It's not my judge, but there's something that bothers me about something like this "God has granted me the ability to succeed at all I do.  He also blessed me with thick skin against my haters. So I'm on top of the (insert expletive here) because I am the (insert again) man.  Holla at ya boy!"

What are some wack things that bother you?!

Rumblings of a nomadic future

I started this blog as a way to express my frustrations and share the stories of all the moving that I've done. I'm not settled, yet, but i may be close to finding something/where that I can call home for more than 1year.

Residents of other states (and other parts of NY) can't quite imagine how tough it is to become functionally independent as a young adult in NYC. I've been out of college for four years now so I'm not quite a recent college grad yet I'm still finding that the realities of my generation and generations past differ vastly.

Gone are the days of living in the hood in Brooklyn and getting a " regular job" while being able to afford renting your own apartment. By own I mean just you, yourself and your belongings. Not only has rent skyrocketed and the job marketed plummeted (correlation?), but reverse white flight has all the suburban white folks, these new white young professionals abandoning the possibility of a white picket fence and a German shepherd for the iron horse, exposed brick and a yorkie in buildings mixed with other young professionals and Brown neighbors who've been there for decades. It's true, google it. If it's on the internet you know it's real. :-)

As a youngster my family was blessed enough to only have one major move. The other two were in the same building to allow the management company to "renovate" and make repairs to our apartment. We lived cramped. 5 people in what was functionally a 1-2br depending on who you asked. The rent. $200! I painfully digress.

When we finally left the best borough in all of the world and moved to Long Island it was an intense intro to something I didn't think I'd have to get used to. It's like your first taste of that frugal meal that you will eventually be forced to frequent because of tough times. Canned corned beef and white rice, ramen noodles, you get my drift. This meal was moving.

I chose to get my higher education in Philadelphia. The city of brotherly love, whose sibling rivalries have caused most "brothers" to show their love in Crimson stained Cain and Abel type ways. I digress. It is here where the Urban nomadic journey began. In Philadelphia. Among row homes and stray cats, crack houses and section 8 gates. Among college students and ex-convicts. I had no idea in 02 that I was about to backpack through the valleys and shadows of violence. Follow my journey and see why I've felt the urge to share my story.

It starts in the heart of North Philly. 1922 N. Broad Street. J&H. A hi rise dormitory for college freshmen. A sight reminiscent of the hi-rise projects of NYC. Something said by Daniel Beatty in his new play, Through the Night, projects look like dorms but the difference is what goes on inside...(paraphrased of course)


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Today's word for the day...J-O-B!

Yes, it's a line from Friday.  Craig was fired from his job, on his day off, and his father was imploring him to go searching for new employment.  I know that movie by heart.  90's classic!

Today isn't Thankful Thursday, a day celebrated by the TicaTattler, but I thought I'd take a moment to give thanks to God for my job.  "

Thank You LORD.  I'm employed, words cannot express my gratitude.  Amen"


There are reports of the economy improving, jobs being added, money being made.  The dollar got stronger as fears of European economic troubles weakened the Euro.  Despite these reports the scope of the job market for NY's finest (The Teachers of NYC) is truly grim.  Hiring freezes, layoffs and budget cuts have those of us who have jobs worried about our security, and those who are trying to get into the DOE looking like the kids on Smooth Criminal, on the outside looking in, wanting and hoping to someday, be a a part.  I pray things get better.  Because after all even after we relent to the fact that adults who are teachers have bills, and families to raise, and apartments to keep, the real victims are our students.  Students who are asked to participate in classes that are too big and get along with teachers who are overworked and underpaid.


I read somewhere that if you want to take the pulse of a nation look at the way they treat their kids and the elderly...America's pulse is feeling very, very weak these days...

They Say F the Police...Fatal Raid

I'm not one to bash the police on a regular basis.  I try as much as I can to respect the officers who patrol the streets looking to protect and serve.  But most members of "minority" and low-income neighborhoods have a seemingly innate dysfunctional relationship with local authorities.  Those on the outside try to find fault with us.  They say that because we are deviant criminals, guilty of conspiring to do evil at a moment's notice, we hate the very agents who seek to keep the streets safe and free from criminals.

The history of what some would call terrorism is one of the main reasons that minority and lower income neighborhoods scream out things like "F the police".

Today we mourn the death of Aiyana Jones, a 7-year-old girl in Detroit, fatally shot, WHILE SLEEP.  BY POLICE.  Yes. While sleeping.

The story according to the Associated Press, was that Aiyana was asleep on the couch in the living room when the police raided the house looking for a suspect in the shooting of a 17-year-old.  Upon breaking in there may or may not have been a struggle with a 46 year old woman (the girl's grandmother) that led to the firing of one shot that hit Aiyana in the neck and killed her.  The details (as usual) are sketchy but the fact remains that one shot was fired and it killed this poor, innocent young girl.  FULL STORY on CNN

And here we are faced with yet another situation where negligent actions by law enforcement officers led to the death of an unarmed civilian, this time, a little girl.

This rarely (if ever) happens in suburban towns to affluent or upper middle-class white or Asian families.   This type of stuff almost exclusively happens in Black and Latino neighborhoods that are poor.  Now there are a number of perspectives, if there wasn't a murder suspect in the vicinity cops wouldn't have the need to raid a house.  If the neighborhood let go of the nationwide mantra of "no snitching" the raid would've been unnecessary.  Violence begets violence, so if there wasn't a suspect to begin with, who shot a seventeen year old, then this seven-year-old girl would not have been shot.  I can understand the logic. I can understand the frustration that could precipitate such a response from others.

Here's the flip side: I find it hard to believe that police are trained to shoot first in a raid.  I find it hard believe that there was a good reason that the lead officer shot one round because he was in a tussle with a grandmother.  I find it harder to believe that the officer mistakenly hit the person who was sleeping on the couch...after all what better place to allow someone to sleep who's a fugitive than your couch?

No matter the reasons, the little girl is dead, the officer is on paid administrative leave, and the tension between black/brown people and the police continues to ebb...

Sugar Mayweather Death defied.

The title is probably confusing.  Is this fatherhood friday, non-nomadic prose blogger going to now try his hand at giving us his take on a fight that happened three days ago?  Does he think that his follower count will rise if he puts up the names of two high-profile welterweight boxers?

No.  I have a story to tell. Get some popcorn. Nevermind.  That story isn't that long.

I have a twin brother.  We're fraternal.  He has some of the great qualities that women list when they're looking for a man (two of which i'm missing): Tall, Dark and handsome.  (I'm not tall -- 5'8", nor am I dark -- i have a brown sugar, caramelesque complexion).  He was born first, so I feel like that two minute oxygen edge is what did it, not genetics.  In any event Twin A asked me to watch the fight with him at a bar.  Admission was $20 and drinks were typically NY -- too doggone expensive.  Gladly I don't drink much, not just because drunkenness is a sin, but also because drunkenness wastes all of my sunday...

In any event, I left my boo to go meet my twin at a location I'll disclose later (for dramatic effect).  So I jumped on the Railroad from Queens into Manhattan and transferred onto the MTA uptown.  Upon exiting the train it was a madhouse.  Not unlike NYC.  Bustling, like an antfarm on a hot day in your backyard, just mounds of people, bumping each other as if it was urban bumper cars, glamour edition. After all it was saturday night, fight night in NYC.  But there was something strange in the air, not strange like you're looking for the culprit responsible for the stench that has paralyzed you into an angry stupor, but strange like someone is about to do something, crazy, stupid, and you need to make your way out of their way before you're the victim of their irrational stupidity.  Even with the strange air, I moved on ahead towards the fight.

As I'm walking to this bar I see a crap load of NYPD, NYFD and barricades.  Being a NYer I think nothing of it.  I ignore my spidey senses and keep walking.  I follow crowds around the barricades to find the right avenue for the detour.  Finally I ask an officer, what's the deal.  He responds maybe it's a movie or something.  Ok.  That makes sense.  SHoot a movie on saturday night, fight night, on the alien ant farm urban bumper cars scene that is NYC.

THen my cell rings.  My mom.  After a short conversation she tries to convince me that my father heard a boom and that they were evacuating the very area I was to see the fight.  Terrorism.  Now, do I miss what was supposed to be one of the best fights in a few years because of tiny terrorism? Of course not, it was probably the special effects from the movie that the nice policeman told me was being shot.

I go to the fight.  It was good until round 3, then it became a Mayweather slaughtering of Sweet and Sour Sugar Shane.

Later I found out that the boom that my parents heard, and the police presence, and the firefighters, and the barricades was all because of the fact that there was actually a terrorist attempt in Times Square, four blocks from where I was later watching the fight.  Do I consider myself a rebel, a death-defying sports fanatic who will weather blizzards and shootouts to catch a good competition?  No.  Just blessed and Highly favored.  After all, instead of reading this blogpost, you could've been reading an article about a Brooklyn teacher and young father who was one of thousands killed by a car bomb in Times Square, NYC.  Thankful.

Go here to read more about the failed terrorist attack. Same website I got the picture from.

FatherHood Friday: An Appeal to the Parents at War.

Yes it is midnight and I'm just writing this post for FatherHood Friday.  First, the weather up here in NYC was about 75 degrees.  Unlike you folks who are closer to the equator, we don't enjoy such lovely weather on a regular basis.  So this afternoon, evening and night I was out, celebrating the beauty of sunshine, warm weather, and comforting cool breezes. 

We all have our differences.  We surely do.  And in many instances we try to find ways that we can make things work.  The harsh reality is that many of our families are moving away from tradition.  Tradition in the sense of mother and father being married, an item or even friends.  This begs the question of what is normal anymore.  For many kids, especially those growing up in African American households, the reality is living with Mother, and either father visits and supports as well or Father isn't really around.  The truth is that we have moved away from many of the very practices that made the traditional family makeup with all it's members and team dynamic intact. Commitment isn't as celebrated as it once was, premarital sex is far from taboo, and settling down happens much later ([if ever]on average) than the baby boomer generation.  So the likelihood that a woman may become pregnant by a man who isn't her husband (or even someone who is committed to her) is stronger than it ever has been.  My appeal to Moms on this Fatherhood Friday isn't to reach back into the depths of your soul and discover your inner homemaker/wifedom.  I'm not even appealing that you guys wait until marriage to become sexually intimate (even though that's what most religions including mine, Christianity, encourages).  I'm not here to tell you what to do.  My appeal is this: DO NOT USE YOUR CHILD(REN) AS TOOLS TO SABOTAGE OR VINDICATE YOUR EX.

I know it's tempting.  I recently was able to get some revenge on someone who wronged me.  It felt good.  I felt powerful.  But here's the thing, negative reinforcement stops behavior, positive reinforcement changes behavior.  That, my friend, is a pedagogical (art or science of teaching) , behavioral management truth.  So, while this person will probably not step over their boundary with me again, I can't say that it won't happen to someone else.  This type of truth can lend itself to all of you who deal with the challenges of creating two separate households and realities for your children because you guys weren't able to make it as a couple. 

A child should not have to pay the consequences for mistakes we have made.  Sure, some of the residual effects just come with the territory, but making a kid feel guilty about a gift from the significant other of their father's boo, or their mother's boo is just wrong.  Fighting and arguing in front of the kid, wrong.  Making the kid feel malice or anger towards the other parent wrong.  All of these things hurts a child's ability to grow to be functionally social, intelligible, pychologically and emotionally healthy human beings.  It does.

When you tell a kid all that's wrong with their father, you tell the kid that 50% of their genetic makeup is flawed.  Even before they can verbalize the concept of genetic makeup, a kid knows that part of them is from their Daddy.  Point blank.

Here's what we don't realize as adults.  Many of the antisocial, dysfunctional, rude, disrespectful crap that kids end up doing they learn from adults.  We model all of these things either in front of them to someone else or to our kids personally.  My son doesn't have much of a concept of holding a grudge.  He knows that when I don't give him what he wants that it hurts, he's sad and a bit upset.  I encourage him to think about being upset and how it's ok to be at that place. I  discourage him from retaliating with disrespect because that is an antisocial behavior.  If he does respond with disrespect I reprimand him, and when he doesn't I praise him for it. What he doesn't get from me is a grudge, a prolonged period of time where I'm ridiculously upset at him.  The GRUDGE is an adult thing, a behavior we learned from someone and we prematurely pass it to our kids. 

I'm saying all this because I've seen and (on occasion) experienced the frustration and tension that comes from a co-parent who uses a child as a way to get back and control the other parent.  We are adults. They are kids.  It's not our job to make them feel more residual effects from "broken homes" than they do when they call for their father in the middle of the night and they realize, even in their deep sleep that he isn't in the room, home or building to answer his midnight call. 

Just as that call falls on ears that can't hear it, you guys need to turn your critical frequencies towards hearing me out on this.  Your kid will thank you in the end.  Get along for the kid.  Not tea and crimpets get along, but make parenting work get along.  Our community needs it.

Photo found here

Stretching to Change the world (Weirdness)

Love today, is weird.  It's weird to forgive someone for wronging you before paying them back.  To love someone who doesn't look like Zoe Saldana or Terence Howard (or whoever you women like) is well, weird.  When someone decides to spend their life's passion helping others, for little pay, especially in communities around the world, many of our sensibilities begin to oppose their idea.  How can you leave America? Where you going? For how long?

The reality is Love is a choice, a revolutionary one that is contrary to all the world (or America rather) stands for.  Love is smiling at someone who wants to spit in your face, holding doors and not caring about the thank you's.  Love is allowing yourself to get sick just so that you can show affection to your son who can only see you on weekends because he lives with his mother and not you (you know I had to throw something specific to me in there...fatherhood is my revolution :-).

(I type this post in bed.  Sick.  Beware of cute kids with coughs, sneezes, runny noses and other indicators of germs.  Their cuteness  lures you in while the germs take you down.) 

I must say that in my life I've eased up on my plans, on my endeavors, on my efforts to make sure that others around me are comfortable.  I'm guilty of taking it easy in Madden when I'm whooping someone that I always beat, of slowing down a bit in practice so that I didn't embarass one of my teammates on the track, of neglecting to mention the Master's in Education I earned in '09.  I've been pumping the brakes on my endeavors so that the Status Quo is comfortable with my maturation and progress.  I've done what Marianne Williamson described as: shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you" ("Our Greatest Fear").

With that being said, these next few years will be painful.  I will be training myself to stretch beyond the imaginary limitations that I've set for myself.  I'll be training my mind and my body to do things that it refused to do in order to be someone who people could be comfortable around.  But the genius in me, the social investor in me (took that from a dynamic young lady -- Danya Steele), the father in me, needs to be freed. I don't believe there is anyone great who specializes in making other people comfortable.  Jesus shook the world with His audacity to claim to be the Son of God, His quest to love all. What person could be completely comfortable around Jesus.  Looking into the flames of His eyes, feeling the piercing love of His words and seeing the Peace of His soul sounds like enough to send imperfect, fallible men and women like us headed for the hills...

Who could be comfortable around Dr. King or Malcolm X? Who could be complacent around Barack Obama? Or Huey Newton, Or W.E.B. DuBois?  Who could be comfortable around the protestors of apartheid and Mandela? The slaves who dared to run towards freedom? Dorothy Height? Harriet Tubman? Ida B. Wells? Michelle Obama?  Truth be told a black man or woman that stirs up the greatness inside of others is a threat to the social order of America, it's why most of these men were either killed or censored, and why many of these women weren't celebrated until after their death.

One of the ways my HS coach got me to come back to Track & Field was that he used a spiritual truth to compel me to rethink my heinous decision to flip burgers for minimum wage rather than run track and invest in my future: "It's a sin to waste God-given talent." 

The same way I stretch before workouts and races, I'll be stretching to ready myself and my spirit for the crazy races that lie in store for me and my loved ones.  I don't apologize if my endeavors begin to make you question your own lives, that's the price you pay for being around someone dynamic.  From now on if you don't want to be challenged, lurk the corners of your nearest hood...You won't catch me there though...I'll be busy running laps around continents, infecting young people with a love of learning and life...only thing special about the education I'm serving, is that it's not for the faint at heart...be great...

Mandela Photo Courtesy of this website

Fatherhood Friday delayed: Superpowers (long post)

I'm huge on community. Anytime I get to talking to someone about the state of Black America I complain about two things: Fatherlessness and Lack of Community. I'm not gonna bedazzle you with my sociological wit by spitting random statistics about the social epidemic, I'm really talking about community. So, here's the story:

Mi amor y yo were on the J train traveling from Manhattan to Queens. The train wasn't too crowded for a late evening commute. We sat next to a young lady with two baby boys so close in age I'm going to assume that they were twins. Needless to say, as a father, my thoughts began to drift to the whereabouts of the father. Probably some dude that ran out on them, or was chilling with his boys, hugging the block trying to stack paper...I know it's horrible to stereotype people but if we can all be honest and dig deep, we can find that we stereotype day in and day out. This young lady had one baby in the strapped baby carriers and the other boy in the seat next to the doors. The baby who was strapped was chilling. Not a peep out of him. He had his pacifier in his mouth, like a real life Maggie from the Simpsons. He was cool as a fan. The other baby was screaming like the grinding of the 3 train, screeching, think Fulton-Broadway Nassau station, yeah, that bad.

One of my observations of young parents, especially moms who haven't learned the language of the cry (because in fact that is babies' way of communicating with us since their vocabulary is too limited for them to functionally make specific requests) is that they try to shut the baby up with techniques that are quick fixes. The problem is that often times quick fixes in these scenarios just prolong the inevitable, the crying baby on the J train. Her first tactic was to stuff his mouth with Toblerone Swiss chocolate candy. Yes, this toddler was getting Swiss chocolate shoved into his mouth, one piece at a time. After three sizable chunks of the sugary sensation, the baby was back to crying.

As the boo and I watched this situation unfold I sat there being a parental Marv Albert, calling the play-by-play of the seeming debacle in real time. It was my way of showing my expertise and proving to the boo that I can certainly handle reading the behaviors of children with a better eye than the shallow "he crying cuz he spoiled!"

Eventually an older lady thought she'd reach into her bag of tricks and pull out the finger-wag-stern-eyes. Yup. Middle-aged women were able to use this trick to perfection back in the day, that's because gullible boys raised in spiritual households (like myself) were told that to have an older woman wag her finger at you was a bad omen. So, if I was ever that bad in public (which I will venture to say I wasn't) that finger-wag shut me right up.

We must remember though, at this age a finger wag will do nothing but annoy the child. He was too young to understand the concept of omens, or even disrespect. She tried the "you-stop-that-crying-right-now" approach. To no avail. You cannot defeat an early toddler. If there's a battle, you lose. Children have way more will power. Her last attempt was a direct invite to battle. She lost.

The crying never stopped. He kept going and going. After a long day of work and watching two women unsuccessfully soothe this baby I decided to try and allow my fatherhood superpowers reign supreme. I got up and asked the mother if I could pick him up. She said yes. I looked the baby in the eye, smiled, got down to his level and grabbed him in a single bound. LOL. He was still pouting when the conversation, or lecture rather, began. I guess it was more of an interactive monologue, he never answered any of my questions. But the tone of my voice and the attention was all he wanted. He didn't want chocolate, or finger wags...he wanted to be soothed and paid attention to, like his brother was getting. I decided, way before this day, that fatherhood was a superpower, and I can exercise it in situations that called for it. Even if you are not a father, it takes a village to raise a child...help out...




"It takes a great man to be a good listener." - Calvin Coolidge


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Chinatown bus...

FatherHood Friday: Heartbroken...

I usually try to stay away from the news. The mixture of gossip, negativity and pessimism can leave one drained and depressed.  It's like that person who gives the defeated exhale everytime you ask them how they are doing.  You know the monologue (this person rarely allows verbal exchange) that will follow that defeated exhale will be filled with complaints and gripes about miscellaneous crap that a mere change in attitude would probably remedy them.

Well, listening to the news with my mother during the last days of my vacation I learned about the untimely and tragic death of a couple from North Jersey. Mike Muchioki and Nia Haqq, ages 27 and 25 respectively, were murdered in Jersey City over a robbery and carjacking gone awry.  Carjacking.  Over a car.  A piece of metal that depreciates in value the minute it's driven off of the lot.  A car, that dents, scratches, friction and irresponsibility could ruin.  A car, that is old news six months after it comes out.  The marital union that was to happen on the beautiful island of Aruba next year is now cancelled and it its stead these two will be joining each other in burial.  

Death is a part of life. I understand this truth.  I've had to deal with the loss of many loved ones in my lifetime. Most recently my beautiful Aunt Martha.  My dear Aunt Martha died in early January after a little over 50 years of life. I feel that she was still young and had much to offer to this world. This couple's age combined is about the age my Aunt was when she passed.  When death hits this close to home, it really creates a situation where you begin to question your mortality, and the condition of our community. 

I'm twenty-six years old.  The son of a preacher and an evangelist, the father to a four-year-old boy, the brother to two men and one adolescent and the boyfriend to a beautiful writer.  I'm fiercely in love with my lady and have had talks about marriage, and engagement as we move forward in our relationship. I swim the same waters they swam, the post-collegiate I'm-grown-but-don't-feel-grown waters.  The I'm-in love-and-I-wanna-get-married-but-I'm-trying-to-find/i-think-I-found-the-right-one-waters. The I'm-trying-to-get-my-credit-score-up-so-I-can-own-a-home waters

On fatherhood friday I have to reflect on the fact that there is a father who lost his son, and his future daughter-in-law.  I'm still heartbroken.  I recognized my boy's picture on the website that shows the pallbearers at the funeral.  They were connected through the brotherhood of a fraternity (Alpha Phi Alpha).  It's sad to see that I was one person away from meeting this brother.  Six degrees of separation means really that we should truly mourn the death of all who pass, especially those who pass from something violent, something tragic.  The irony lies in the fact that I feel like I know him when I look at the pictures on the website memorializing them.  I feel like at some random Alpha event in Philly (i'm not an Alpha btw) we met, shook hands, exchanged words.  Maybe I told him he had a dope perspective on the uplifting of the black community, or he told me he liked my glasses.  However we are truly connected I mourn the loss of him, and of her, of them.

Fatherhood fridays was designed to celebrate men who choose to be fathers. Today I honor a dude who was choosing to be a husband.  And I offer my condolences to his father.  Words can't quite capture the magnitude of my sorrow for this tragedy...I pray that the black community gets it together, because after these thoughts of sadness and sorrow comes anger...

If you'd like to donate to helping the families with a joint plot go here

Be Blessed

FATHERHOOD FRIDAY

So I took a trip to Philly for business that turned out being pretty successful (thank u Jesus). I was donned in my grey Alfani two button suit and these nice black Stacey Adams shoes. I wore a white bcbg dress shirt with pink and purple subtle stripes and a navy blue diagonally striped (pink) necktie by Express design studios. Needless to say I felt, well, dapper. Not pimp dapper, (I don't take that term pimp as lightly as most I am close to loathing it) but business dapper. So after successful business dealings I went to pick up my son from school. There's nothing that compares to seeing your child overjoyed to see you. It's more than flattering, it feels awesome.

As we made the journey back to center city to take the Chinatown bus back to NYC I saw a young brotha trying to holla at a young lady on the train. I love silently coaching/observing these ordeals from a distance. I critique the miscues and toy with the perceptible shifts in energy, comfort, perspective. Anyway after the young bruh gave her his number he started to seek my approval...asking me if it was quick enough or what have you. After seeing that I approved he asked me: "have you ever seen the pursuit of happiness?" (yes). "y'all remind me of that.". Whoa. What a compliment! Will Smith, Pursuit of happiness? I was floored.

Fatherhood Friday is a time for us to reflect on what it means to be fathers of various contexts. I'm challenging you all to become students of life and, at times, allow your kids to school you. There's a purity that is present in them that we shouldn't envy but seek to harness. Kids don't get as excited over race as they get over age, or spiderman/Dora. They want to meet each other, talk and be liked. Not necessarily for what they do or where they're from, but because they're kids and what better thing is there than the possibility of meeting other kids and having some fun.

As a NYer raised by a family with southern hospitalistic (yup made that word up!) tendencies like greeting strangers, and please and thank yous I find it hard to understand why we're so standoffish and publically reclusive. Not just fathers but NYC can learn from my son and the little Asian boy who saw him today. They were happy to see another kid. Their parents wouldn't dare speak on any other terms but for te sake of childhood they connected, if only for a moment. Connect with someone.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Thankful Thursday

I'm challenging myself to jump on the blogosphere bandwagon of Thankful Thursday. I had a rough start this morning, but I feel like finding a way to appreciate the small stuff will keep me feeling a little sane. I'm thankful for a nose that's not ridiculously keen and sensitive. I'm writing this blog from a seat on the Chinatown bus from NYC to Philly.


For those of you who are recessionisto/as you know that you can go to Philly roundtrip for $20. The catch, you may have to throw or receive some elbows in order to score a seat, and you never know how clean or smelly the bus will be. Today I crapped out. Not only is the bathroom smelly (it's an unwrittten rule that you only use the restroom in the case of extreme emergency, like your bladder is about to burst because you haven't "gone" in over four hours, or you have mudbutt and need to make sure you don't get it on the seat. Lol. Mudbutt. Otherwise, you hold it.). But some man's bag smells like his cat's #1! Yeah I said number one! Human crap and cat crap is a bad combination. So I'm thankful that my nose isn't k9-esque. Which means that my nose isn't burning, just irritated.


Last night I spent almost an hour looking for parking in Crown Heights Brooklyn. Parking sucks because of street cleaning. So I chose a spot that needed to be vacated by the 8:30, ahem excuse me, 8:35 deadline, thanks to a useless law just passed in NYC that gives drivers a five minute grace period after the time listed or on the meter. (a man is walking into the bathroom. I'm mad. He's breaking the unwritten chinabus rule!) I got up this morning and went to pick up my dry cleaning and then back to finding a parking spot that won't get me a ticket or worse towed. This took another 45 minutes! Let me clarify, I don't own a car. I was borrowing one just to take care of some fashion/travel related errands. So I'm also thankful that I don't own a car at this moment. "Parking is not a problem when you use that public option!" wise words MC Carter! That's why subway bus or walking is my anthem.

Moreover (never have a reason to use that but I'm using it right now), I'm grateful just to be alive, to be intelligent, and to be employed. Though my current location (stinky seat under stinky bag on stinky bus on stinky jersey turnpike) isn't the greatest, I'm at least at liberty to make the decision to handle business in other cities and to be able to afford it. Thank God.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Meatless Monday...(crossing my fingers)

 This is huge!  I've decided that I was going to try to begin lessening my meat intake.  I know, thats type crazy. Especially considering that when I was a sophomore at Temple University I was part of a facebook group called "I eat meat with every meal..."  My affinity for all sorts of meats has been ongoing for as long as I can remember.  I used to daydream of days where I could make a whole bowl of meat sauce (from 2 pounds of ground beef, herbs, spices and Pasta sauce) and eat it all by myself. So here I am taking a challenge, to start my work week off without eating any meat.

This is going to take discipline.  I've already made it half the day, hopefully I can report back at the end of the day...

For Breakfast:
Cornmeal porridge, biscuit, Water.

For Lunch:
2 clementines, PBn J, Orange Juice, Water

Snack:
More clementines!....

PS: This is not some sort of starve myself diet, this is just a challenge to begin ridding myself of the horrible eating habits of daily american comfort food that has plagued our bulgy country (especially in the black community)...

PPS Maybe una Tica can join me...

Subway, Bus, or Walking...my new anthem (until i buy a car!)

So Apparently Joell Oritz has a song called "Beamer, Benz or Bentley".  Its a lyrical ode to some of the cars we all love and dream of having (even the most anti-capitalist would drive a BMW M5 anyday...). I heard it in my boy's new Nissan Altima.  Congrats Ty, you bum!
As an urbanomad I make many of my decisions on where to go based on the availability of public transit.  I live in BROOKLYN, we have so many trains in NYC and so many people, trying to drive, find parking and pay tickets is just an unwanted headache at the moment.  So, I want to introduce y'all to a youtube that I caught this morning by Malik-16 & Brandon Carter  called "Subway, Bus Or Walking".  It's hilarious...enjoy.
"i'm calm/i'm fresh/i always try/to make it to the bus before it rides by..." classic!

PS. I found this on Khal's Rock The Dub check him out...

Fatherhood Fridays!!

I must apologize for the tardiness of this post.  Friday is almost over.  But I will still look out for all my fathers out there (and mothers who love them...)

I'm learning that resources are very important for fathers looking for places to take the kiddies during the weekend.  Often times we do the most dismal, boring things because we are not in the "mommy-know" circles.  As opposed to forming an alliance void of the opinion of mothers, I challenge you fellas to reach out to moms and ask them which valuable events do they take their tots to so that they have a great weekend.  You don't have to always sacrifice fun for education and vice versa, there are some venues that have found a way to very creatively weave education and fun together to create a win-win situation for all parties involved. The perks, there are several, I'll name a couple though.  If you get your kid going all day saturday, you can get them to bed earlier.  Also, you'll find your little prince or princess making some great observations, connections with that experience and by extension, with you.


Example, I took my son to an event at John Jay College: LITTLE ORCHESTRA SOCIETY-LOLLIPOP CONCERT SERIES .  The ending Lollipop song gives him a hearty laugh and is a great cheering up tool, a moment that only he and I share.  These moments grow to be defining ones for some of our youngsters.


Below I have two great resources for finding kid friendly events, check them out:


1. TIME OUT NEW YORK: KIDS 
From Time Out New York comes the kids edition, giving you everything from free events to helpful articles.  Time out NY is my first choice for figuring out great events for my son and I. The interface is very user-friendly and pretty easy to navigate. 


2. NEW YORK METRO PARENTS 
The layout isn't as attractive as TONY:KIDS, however, it is categorized for your convenience.  With polls, articles, questions of the week and a calendar of events this is another hot website to use to plan those weekends for the kid(dies).  


Last but not least you know I gotta put something up for my fellow iPhone users:


3. BlueLeo.guide New York City 
It's a website and also an application.  The application is awesome because they use your current location to find things close to you.  For those of you who are out of state and you come to visit NY with the kiddies, this is a great app to get, even temporarily. BTW I found out about this resource through the TONY:KIDS dedicated emails.  


Now get out there and be the life of the party, the yeller of the audience, the audience of the musician or the dance partner of your toddler, I know that many of you would rather be watching March Madness, but if you work the kids out all day you can at least enjoy the prime time games...

iPhone blogging/ Brookyn Springlove Pt. 1

This is my first blog using my iPhone. I knew there had to be an app for it. There's an app for everything...recipes, restaurants, even restrooms. Alliteration aside I'm grateful for this app because it allows me to post on the go. That's dope.

Speaking of dope, I took a walk from my apt in Crown heights to the 3 train on eastern pkwy and, the spring weather is reminding me of why I love this borough. I mean i was blasting Mos Def through my headphones who is as Brooklyn as a Spike Lee Joint so that had to add to the sentiment (think of playing Beres Hammond while walking the swetering roads of Kingston, Jamaica).

Black on Both sides has a track entitled "Brooklyn" a triple beat track that makes lyrical love to the hippest borough of NYC.
"I love my city/sweet and gritty/inland to outskirts/nicknamed bucktown cuz we proned to outbursts/
Philosophy redefined/touch mine I touch back/Walk the streets like it's sweet and get beat like drum tracks..."

Though the face of Brooklyn is changing, seemingly more culturally inclusive, some of us see at as the opposite, progressively exclusive. But, sociological implications aside my four block walk past local new shops, eateries, and even the remodeled corner stores had me wanting to do what Mos Def captured on his track "scream GoBrooklyn! They representin it!" I love springs and summers in bk.

GO BROOKLYN! GO BROOKLYN!

PS: let me know how yall like the photog...I took the pic with my iPhone...I'm trying to get into digital photography as well...


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:St Johns Pl,Brooklyn,United States

FatherHood Fridays!!

It takes guts to step up to a challenge and it takes maturity to tackle a responsibility with confidence. I represent a piece of our community that isn't very well-represented these days. I represent the Father. My train of thought was to say that I don't fit the traditional role of a father, but it seems that the tradition of fatherhood in our community is slowly fizzing out...like the carbonation of an old bottle of Pepsi. The danger is that soon, the spunk and flavor of our community will flatten, and not only will we suffer because of a lack of family, but we may flatline. I don't want to live to see the flattening and flatlining of our community, I digress.

I represent non-custodial fathers. My son doesn't live with me. He lives with his mother in Philadelphia. In order for him to get some quality time with his father I must trek all the way to Philly after work and come back to NYC afterward so we can have a fun-filled weekend sprinkled with academics and lessons in discipline and self awareness. I'm aware that parts of this situation are purely part of bad choices in the past. But God has a way of redeeming us even when we don't deserve it, its called Grace! DJ, my son, is my redemption. Fatherhood is the vehicle by which I find myself working toward that redemption. The trek to the city of Brotherly Love to show my son some fatherly love in person is a bit poetic, and since I see God as an artist who has created a world of artists, fatherhood, as a vehicle, is also my creative artform (among others).

So, I'll be deeming this day every other weekend Fatherhood fridays. I'll be exploring issues facing Married, Unmarried, Custodial, nonCustodial, divorced or widowed fathers through my own lens. Some fridays I'll be sharing an anecdotal related to my own experience, nevertheless, Pops needs some love. This weekend I'll be celebrating my son's fourth Birthday, and I'm trying to decide which of the free events posted on Time Out New York 

to take him to, before the gifts, cake and ice cream!

How's this for legacy: The first step my son took was to me the one time I was able to make it to his school to pick him up (remember I work in Brooklyn, he lives in Philly).  The first time I heard him use the word congratulations in the right context was at my graduation ceremony for my Master's degree.  That, my friends, is legacy. I know it seems small, but when you have a baby and that youngin can say to you congratulations, after you've achieved something great, you'll understand my jubilation...

Fatherhood is divine. It's necessary, it is the balance of parenthood that leaves little girls and boys feeling protected, keeps them grounded and in some instances, a safe space to vent.  Fathers can be the heroes that comic books can't quite capture, the essence of a community, the backbone.  So, whether you're a husband coming home to your wife and kids, or you're a young brother getting off work about to go get your daughter for the weekend, I salute you, for your courage and audacity to do right by your child(r

en).

Below is a picture of my little boy playing his first note on his Uncle's trombone!! How could someone abandon that? Happy FatherHood Friday y'all...thanx for reading!