pre-k graduation

4

Lil Momma turned four this past Sunday. With all this drama with her female parental unit, I didn't know I would see here until last momment. So I trew a party for my Princess in 45 minutes. Enjoy

i miss my kids

Most yawl know my kids mean the world to me, and they have been rasied by me lonesome most of their lives. But over the past week have had some contrived evil drama and neither are with me.
So im sad and miss my kids. She always said she would do anything she could to make my life miserable, threatened to kill me and him, do anything to hurt my son, and to keep him and his siter from being together.



Now she calls asking for her Biti and he checks on her. She follows that boy everywhere and He protects her like the fine young man and big brother should.

only thing worse than a recession

is rain. Seeds gotta eat.

lil moma in college

lil momma went to college today again. She was my best student, always wanted to teach my kids at university level. She sat in front row too and said Statistics is her favorite class. So what her pencil upside down.

you not gone leave me are you poppa

As a parent, a father, there is only a few things we desire to see with respect to our children, namely to smile and be happy. Last night I was placed in a difficult position. I was leaving the shop with my son and we stopped by the co-op in our county. It is not like the regular grocery store since they only buy and sell what is provided by farmers and growers I our area. I only stopped to get some prime rib, to cook and some potato bread since we only had one loaf left.

As soon as I turn the corner I saw my daughter and her mother, or should I say my daughter with her Patty Labelle-esque lungs saw me. She let it be known that she saw me calling “Daddy and Biti, I wanna go with daddy” at the top of her lungs. This on one of the days she was with her mother since I teach two Statistics classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday at a local University. I attempted to calm her down when she asked me to hold her and pick her up, and indicated that she wanted to go with me. I knew that she would not be able to go home tonight and I suspected she did to for she followed me up and down each isle with me, as she asked me “are we going home?”

Now for some reason, my daughter considers my house our house. Well not for some reason, I know why and it is because I have basically raised her our entire life until over the past several months when her mother started to step up to the plate. She since birth has been with me basically every day, morning and night. I potty trained her; I cooked for her and took her to school with me when I taught and even taught classes with her sleep in my arms as I lectured. We were at every baseball, basketball and football game my son had; not to mention with me each day as I was building out my store for dogs.

And although her mother saw her as a burden, and loved to party and hit the streets during the first two and a half years of her life, I do acknowledge that she loves her daughter. But I also must admit that if my daughter had a preference she would not spend one ounce of time with her. That alone saddens me. For she needs her mother as much as she needs her father.

Jones mane, you don’t know how I felt; like a coward, hurrying up to pay for our purchase to get out of the store so my daughter would not see me. As I was at the register, I could still hear her back by the dairy section calling me, saying to the top of her lungs I want my daddy.

By the time I got home, her mother had called. I called her back. She told me that she was still crying and asking for me although I could hear her in the background. As I spoke to her she calmed down a little but any answer short of me not coming to get her then was not gonna be accepted. I told her I would get her the next day and she said “come and get me now poppa, I don’t like mommy’s house, I wanna come home. When you get me, you not gone leave me?”

If I could, I would have preferred to die and kill myself as opposed to hear her pain. In the car my son was even sad, asking why we don’t just take her with us. I had no answer, but I do know now why she hugs be so tight, and grabs me whenever we are together, and more importantly why she always ask “You not gone leave me are you poppa?”

Addendum: Post #600 and If I don’t like and vehemently speak out about the Court Opinions of Clarence Thomas, is that Thomas bashing, and does that mean I am not supporting another black man? If not, why is such called Obama bashing if one disagrees with his policies?

what xmas means 2 me

he a ball player - not time to worry about his fly

this how country girls get down

I wanna lay on you daddy/Pop’s I’m running the shop today

Its Sunday and I am, Home today. Usually I would have been at my shop by now, for at least a good 3 hours. Now it is double figures in the morning – something I have not had a chance to wake up in since I started my store for dogs and my son returned back to school.

Little momma woke me up. She scatted out of her room on the other side of the house I can imagine and crawled in my bed. I asked if she was ready to eat and she shook her head in the negative and said, “I just wanna lay on you daddy.” I said ok. She arranged the covers and adjusted the pillows and assumed her spot under my arms laying her head on my shoulder, and as she always does, grabbed my arm and placed it around her. With my arm around her waist and my hand on her stomach, she gently rubbed her hands up and down my arms and whispered “love you so much poppa.” I smiled.

As we returned to slumber again, I received a phone call. It was from my son. “Hey man, where you at Jones?” I asked. He responded, “I’m at the shop pops, you stay at home to day, I’m gonna run the shop for us today. You don’t have to come down, Ill catch the train and ride the bike back home.

All I could do was smile. Nothing like a family business but still better than that, nothing like having the two best kids in the whole wide world. I don’t know what it is about them; maybe it’s the way they call me poppa, or just the way they laugh in their usual uncontrollable manner. I have tried in detail to remember when they have not been able to smile or laugh. I do know I see it when I take lil momma to her mom’s house and it crushes me. And I do know I see it when I tell little man he can’t do something or that he is doing something incorrectly. They so head strong and independent – wonder where they got that from.

They both love being at the shop. My son is the CFO on paper, and makes sales, cleans and counts the loot in the cash register each morning and every night at closing. Lil Momma, COO on paper, is always outside asking folks to “come into my daddy’s store” and passing out the shop’s postcards. She sometimes ask me to be quiet when I am telling folks about the products by saying “let me do it, let me show them.” I like, really love it all, especially when she pretends on her play phone to answer it and always with “Braincell.”

I tell ya folk, especially you men who may read this, gotta get you a number one son and a number one daughter, and even more so, start a family business. I mean, dang, best day I done had in a while, just hearing them two phrases: “I wanna lay on you daddy” and “Pop’s, I’m running the shop today.”

i want the pink one

A woman told me recently, you don’t mess with a daddy’s girl. It made me smile and the simper was so warm that folk here could have burnt the sun. I was hoping she was right and in my optimism got even warmer.

Maybe that why she is the way she is. Why she reaches out for me while in her mother’s embrace, or why when she sees me gazelle like, she jumps in my arms. Or why every times she pretends her phone rings she answers “Brain cell; or sit down with her toy laptop on her legs telling me she ordering dogfood too. Yep, maybe, in the rambunctious recalcitrance she gleams, I just smile and say yes or ok.

So I guess I got the best of both world, guess my sperm work like that. First Born is my number one son. Fellas, gotta get you one of them. Second born, baby girl, fellas you gotta get you one of them too.

Especially the latter, I mean the way she crawls on me, lays her head on my shoulder when she is my arms, even how she sleeps in my lap – can u say the bomb. And I really love it when she say “naw folk, we don’t get down like that” or “nothing jones” or “that’s my song.” So fellas, I don’t know what gives. I mean love your kids, I don’t care if they momma crazy or you crazy. Nurture that spirit which has originated from your loin for love sake, and make no excuse and let no obstacle get in your way for doing such.

Cause if u true, learn to live the love in the experience of buying your baby girl cupcakes with pink icing just because she say “I want the pink ones.” I guess money and the economy aint everything. vote

U should be crying

Point of order: My folk was in town, couldn’t get by the shop. Said the blog was tight, but like his lyrics, falling of the deaf ears of the lame, mute and blinded. This is for you.

“i’m from where the catholic church is some racist shit,
they helped europe and america rape this bitch,
they pray to white spanish jesus whose face is this,
but never talk about the black pope gelasius,
i’m from where soviet weapons still decide elections,
military’s like the mafia — you pay for protection,
catamite sex tours is what the country sells,
and rich white business men make the best clientele,
i’m from where they too pussy to come film survivor,
and they murder coca cola union organizers,
i’m from where the justice system está podrido,
fuck government niggaz politic over perico,
rebelde concido, enterado vivo, como otro argentino desaparecido,
cuz rico laws don’t apply to the cia,
and muthafuckaz make sneakers for a quarter a day,”…… Immortal Technique

Take that Jeezy, Lil Wayne TI and the rest of the female dog gluteus maximus Negroes who claim to keep it real - real stupid

Talked to my folk last night. My home boy from the cut. He aint call me I called him. I love jones to death. Same neighborhood and same social club that twelve call a gang. I called him because his ex called me. She my folk too and I love her to death also. She asked me to speak with him. She said that his son would call him but that my boy would not call him back.

Now men, this will come from my heart. There is no greater blessing than the love we receive unconditionally from our kids except that of God if one believes such. For the life of me, I cant see no reason in the world why a man, in particularly one that claims to be such, and has planted himself in a woman to result in fertilization and the resulting blastocyst, cant see this greatness, especially even in vanity, of what he has created.

Personally, in the world we have around us currently, I want my seeds around me as much as possible. And when they are not around me, although I don’t worry and keep the love I have for them and that I suspect the have for me in my heart, they still contrive to cross my mind incessantly.You dont know what u missing, when im not with my daughter, when she sees me she holds me and wants to sit on my lap and hold me with her head on my shoulder all day. And my son, as son as i get in when he dont see me, he like "hey pops" and ask my advice and opinion on everything. We all sit at the table like to day and laught and talk.

So I won’t get deep, or nothing like that, just short and simple, but for all yawl men, that claim to love and miss your kids, show me, and I aint from Missouri . Cause if it was me, I’d be mad if I missed my child’s call, and even worse, every time I saw a man with his son or daughter in the street smiling and hugging and holding them, I’d buss out in tears, and my fault folk, but I think yawl should be crying too. Good day.

addendum: i have come to realize we are lost. Folks dont understand the economy, and wonder y any job is better than no job and how stupid u ask, we will turn down a job in a recession, for paying 7$ an hr and we aint got one - go figure.

Raised or spoiled

Point of order:
1] left the shop round 830. A woman was driving in front of me weaving and I could see she was like texting on her phone, I flashed my lights she threw the finger weaved and sped some more and a cop pulled her over. Are folks that stupid? I laughed as I passed her under I20.

2] I slept to 945 today and turned in almost as soon as I got home last night – yum.

3] My folk did a book review and interview on me, im flattered.

Ok, sorry about that, I mean yawl having to deal with the back in forth with a commenter and myself and several others. Any who, on these few days before father’s day, I just wanted to say a few words and offer some blessings to fathers that are putting it down for lack of a better phrase.

See as men, we know the value of family, which means that family and especially our children are the most important tangible asset we have. We know it is not how many cars we drive or how much money we obtain but rather how much time we give providing, nurturing and raising our kids to hopefully become responsible adults.

Too many of our boys do not see this and as a consequence fail to recognize and worse replicate manhood in one form of attribution – being a father. Likewise, too many of our little girls grow up without a father in their household and fail to recognize what role the father plays in said household. For boys, it may manifest in running the streets and never being man enough to be faithful to a single woman or even respecting women as one would their sister or mother. Foe girls, it may manifest itself in that traditional view of I don’t need a man or that their looks and sex is all that defines them.

So you fathers out there, hats off to you. We know it is not a single day but each second of each minute of each hour we receive our reward and understanding of fatherhood. We know that we want to give and spoil all of those under our roof what ever we can even when we cant, but don’t because we know that by spoiling our children, we do a dis-service to our ultimate goal – raising them to be hardworking and responsible adult human beings that never feel sorry for themselves or blame others for the miss steps and bad experiences in their lives. Yep, there is a difference between spoiling a child and raising a child and I would like to think that fathers, who are fathers, know the differences and intentionally shy away from the first. So keep on doing and for those of us who have women in our lives that cant value our role or need, turn the other cheek, for although they may not admit it, God knows what we do is a good thing, something we are supposed to do, and remarkable and for me that reward enough.

ps: props to Ken Griffey Jr on that 600th jack

#1 son

I know I write a lot about fatherhood and what a great thing it is and how important being a father is to me. I also know that I talk a lot about lil momma. Namely because she is still new to me, being that she is going on three in June. But I want to say for the record that my son, well he is the shit too. He is likely the best son a person can have next to me LOL (love ya mom).

And I am not saying this because they won today in the last inning 6-5, making the Grady High School Knights 7-1 (1st place), nor because he is almost a “chip off the old block.” But because it is the truth. See although his mother has been in his life somewhat, I have raised him his entire life. When he was born, I commandeered a wheel chair and we rolled all around Crawford Long Hospital. He would be in my office at Emory in a walker, while his mother would be out clubbing, trying to find her girlfriend’s husbands. He has traveled to Africa with me on multiple occasions and was on his second passport by 8 years of age. He has been under my roof as well his entire life.

I am not saying this because I have coached him from age 4 to 14 in Little League baseball or AAU basketball at Ben Hill, the Fulton County League or Old national. But rather for the little things. Like the way he calls me Poppa, or the way he gets up on the weekend when I am tired and cooks breakfast for his sister.

And as I said, sure his mother has been in his life, and it used to hurt me like an Ice Pick in my right thigh (yes, i have been stabbed in my rt thigh with an ice pick) when he would say he didn’t want to go over to her house. Once I told him that if I ever heard him say that or anything negative about his mom again, I’d knock out his teeth. Sure he can be a knucklehead. Like this past semester when he brought home 3 A’s, 4 B’s and an F. Or like when he nailed this kid in the back of the head at school who swung on him. But Men aren’t we all at times?

I remember growing up Looking at Charlie Chan; he always had his number one son with him in the movies to help solve his cases. Biti (short for Thabiti which means a true man) is my number one son and my fist born. Yep, his name serves him well. He has seen it all with me, from cleaning guns to tracking wild turkey. When he was nine he said, “Poppa, when I’m 27 and old enough to have sex, I’m gonna carry condoms with me all the time.” I responded, “well little daddy, if u can’t wait until 27 just ask me for some. This past November, he did just that. “Poppa, can you bring me some condoms to school?” I said “Sure. You wanna do this, I mean are you ready, if it breaks to take care of a family as I do?”

I took him the condoms. He didn’t use them. When I asked what happened, he said, “she fessed…. But I wasn’t ready to take care of children like you do me and Chi.”

Like I said, nothing better than being a father and that it is the little things that mean the most, like when I came home sat from the shop, and he had mopped the kitchen floor. And all of this came to me while i was listening to Romeo and Juliet fantasy overture by Tchaikovsky (one of my favorites along with Ovarture of 1812 and Nutcracker).

I want that daddy

Today I crossed the thresh hole of a new world. So staggering it was that it moved me to what I am about to state now. Originally I had toyed with a title called MALES VALENTINE DAY. It was basically a post for the ladies letting them know that for brothers, March Madness is our Valentine’s Day. And that on he start of this day, they should get their men a bottle or a six pack and some chicken wings, as he would Lily’s or pearls on Valentine’s day. Not that I am into ovation pronounced toward ye old Vicar saint, it was an idea I could likely drop a little satire in. But then I realized there were two such days when you add the super Bowl. And women get or should each day and ergo don’t need no nother holiday for them to get shit for free.

I suspect that given my predilection of lascivious activities, I know some of my readers may have their mind in the gutter from the title alone. So now I will apologize for it contains none of he sordid deeds this mind could make into reality.

You know I have a wonderful and adorable little girl. She is the age of parallel play and plain verbal communication. Now she talks, and wont let me even take a phone call with out saying “I wanna talk.” Then she got them Patty Label lungs too.

Walking into the kitchen to fix dinner, she walked over to the Pantry with her fuzzy pink bear house shoes, sliding her feet full of echo to the pantry and pointed. I looked but couldn’t find what she desired for each time I touched something she quickly shook her head and said “no” at the same time. Frustrated she got her stool, went to the back of the cereal box and said, “I want that daddy.”

I froze. First because it was not the cereal, but the picture of the toy on h back of the box; second, because she strategically laced daddy at the end. Now she calls me daddy and poppa. Daddy is the living and walking half monkey bar half chattel that she orders around. Poppa is just some dude she recognizes when I am in photograph form. Not to mention she uses daddy all the time, like by itself, or “daddy hungry too”, “daddy let’s go”, or the ubiquitous “my daddy, daddy mine.” But this time it was “I want that daddy.”

Everyman’s fear fell into my soul. I wondered if she would be able to say them magic words in the future, forever to get what ever she wanted from me? I looked at her and caught myself. I could only deal with now. She talks a mean game, but I took advantage of her inexperience and said no. That was close, I better get ready for the future.

get just released DIRT BEHIND MY EARS; ESSAYS AND SATIRE FROM THE DIRTY today

i miss coaching little league

I just realized how much I miss coaching little league baseball. Yea, I played baseball my entire life, but I did not know how much I really missed coaching until this week. Over the weekend, I found out that a kid that played in my league, a fine young man that we played against was found murdered along with his cousin in Union City. When I heard the news for the first time, I over looked it namely because I could not fathom that I would know the individuals. I was however saddened that such reckless violence was taking place and that we lost two great futures in the progress.

They say little African American boys are not playing baseball anymore. I know the numbers are dwindling, but I want to disagree. We played baseball at old national and we won. We had several state champions since I was coaching there including my T-Ball team (40-2). I had my boys since they were four and they are 14 now. In addition, we had fun, sub states, districts and the whole nine. My best memory was my 9-10 team beating the best team in our league on a lasting double play hit to my son at second base and his shot to home when the bases were loaded. 5-4 was the final score and they had scored three runs in the last inning until we got the force out and ran off the field. That year we sent 4 teams to the state and 3 of ours to the sub-state.


But last night it really sank in, at the Braves game, sitting behind the dugout with my number one son and number one daughter. I love baseball. And what I liked most about coaching was that it taught young men: to depend on teammates and work with others (because you cannot bat every time nor can you play each position at the same time). But what I remember most, other than the dugout chatter “we got em scared now”, was what I always told them. “Anybody can be an athlete, but you all have to be scholars, gentleman and athletes in that order. Rest in peace Delarlonva Mattox.

A few of my favorite things

Was cold again this weekend in Georgia. Another reason why it would not surprise me if it snowed again in April. Was in the bed and it had dawned on me that this was good cuddling weather. But since that wasn’t possible, I sat there with little momma, who had just woken up talking “ Eat, eat, eat up.”

But the night was not as bad as I thought. I landed on the ABC Family channel, an outcome that could have only occurred as a function of their being no more college basketball and four months before the first NFL game. But I was pleasantly surprised. The sound of Music was on. It reminded me of how we took city buses on a field trip from my elementary school in Memphis to go and see it at the Malco Theater. What I remember most about it other than the fact I was out of school was the fat as crib the Captain had and the sound track. Yep, it had the fat sound track.

Now I was looking at it in m bed, with my little princess eating rib eye steak. It was so rewarding, her sitting under my arm, loving each song as I did. Even standing up and holding m hand, dancing with the music. It is without question a timeless classic and one of the best love stories I would ever desire to show to a kid. Not to mention the Mack lines. Like when the Captain asked Frauline why she came back and hinted that he would have hoped that he was one of the reasons or that she missed him. That’s when he snuck slim off in the greenhouse and said “you can’t marry someone if you are n love with someone else – pure merciful.

They used to make some classic movies back in the day. Wonder if they will ever get around to making more classics today?

You a soldier….daddy's going to buy you this chopper.

Dear CNN

I would like to apologize for my brethren displayed on air at the West Bank Pawn Shop in GRETNA, La. According to the manager of the paw shop per your report, he hears the man say over and over, “This is how you hold it, like this. Anybody in front of you, you can mow them down. Kill everybody; soldier, because daddy's going to buy you this chopper.”

First, there is nothing wrong with teaching a young boy the rights of manhood inclusive of shooting, fishing and building something with ones hands. Nevertheless, an infant, I do not think so. I just would like to thank you CNN for airing out my dirty business again and for showing us that WE (not including you CNN) have left to do in our community.

That includes explaining that this is not Cambodia or Serria Leone and that children, especially infants are not soldiers or killers. Whom would he have been a soldier for and why would a father want to spend money on a ‘Chopper” for a two year old instead of some books, blocks or crayons? We have to show that violence and using a gun is not the way to solve problems and that killing someone is not an act one should strive to be proficient at.

Thanks CNN for reminding us that making a baby do not make you a father.

State of the African American Father

Once, I was asked what being a father means to me. The question was asked of me one night before I was to leave on the overnight business trip the same night that Indiana and L.A. were playing game three of the NBA playoffs. I had never really thought about it before – probably because I knew that “IT” (fatherhood) was something that must be done rather than just thought about. And there was always something to do: to PTA meetings, taking my son to practice, ironing clothes, cooking meal and listening. What does it man to be a father? I mean it has to be a bit more than introducing a sperm cell to a precious ovum. It has to be more than seeing one’s child once or twice a week or month. What does it mean, and what is the state of fatherhood in our community? This was the question and I thought hard.

I thought hard about the fact that I was a single parent; I had been married, but it did not work out a result of unforeseen circumstances. But, mulling the questions of parenthood, I found it difficult to try to conceptualize something that I live; something so paramount and significant that words and thoughts can’t adequately depict its essence. It seems when you become a father – which is no less true for mothers – that you effectively begin a phase of having no social life. For the single father, this is mostly by choice, for you come to realize and internalize that there is no one thing or event more valuable than your children. I came to see that time really does fly by, and my infant son has become a little man with only one month until his eight birthday. I love cherish every moment of fatherhood, and I love having a son. For me being a father is responsibility that is earned with a combination of hardwork and effort, dedication and most importantly, love. It is an endless season in which summer, fall, winter and spring become one and the years often form a conglomerate book of memories and photographs.

Anthony T. Stringfield is CEO of the Living Room Media Group. an Oakland, California transplant, he has been in Atlanta for roughly nine years. “For me,” he says slowly, “I’ve been with little Tone for about 10 and a half years. Being a single parent for all that time has had its trials and tribulations for sure, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. When he came into the world, it just completely slowed my roll.” He says that his son is like a brother to him and that their relationships has steadily grow over the years. “His mother didn’t ever get involved in his life. She calls about twice a year, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it has not turned into any real experience for him. She being 3,000 miles away in France did not allow for him to have that access, that immediate access to her.

“Being a father means a lot to me,” Stringfield continues. “I would expect it too mean a lot to a lotta brothers out there. I want him to learn the streets, but at the same time, I don’t want him to earn the streets. Fatherhood slowed my life totally down.” Stringfield admitted that if it has not been for becoming a father, he would have probably ended up ubiquitously wither “dead or in jail”. Parenthood granted him something else that he needed: stability. “I guess God moved inside of me,” he says.

“It was really pride at first, but as pride turned into something that I thoughts was more than I could chew. But in the process, I realized that if I just took small bites, it wasn’t that hard,” Strinfield says. “And now since I am recently remarried, I can see how valuable the dual parent situation is. Looking back on it all, I say being father is a blessing that I would not trade for anything in the world. I wouldn’t trade the frowns for the smiles. Most definitely its been real.”
“My baby is like all the money in the world for me,” says Clarence Harris, founder of the check First Mortgage of Cincinnati, Ohio. “My wife and I had problems, so the doctors had to actually merge my sperm with her egg. It took about for or five attempts. Harris smiles as he continues. “The day I found out, I was in a car accident,” he says. “I was sitting there and all mad and she comes driving around the corner smiling and says she was pregnant. I cheered up immediately.”

He admits that he was hyped and that he “read a “hupla” articles and books” but that was short lived. “I figured that instincts would start to kick in because in all actuality I didn’t want to read a lot about white babies, because all of the books were written by white men,” he says. “I just figured being a man would make my father instincts come out.”

“When I found out I was about to be a father, I zoned, it was like I was thinking about names, him being a boy, what instruments he would play, how he would laugh and every thing else,” he recalls. But like most men staring down fatherhood, his attitude changed. Harris admits, “After I knew my wife was pregnant, I became concerned about her eating habits and everything. My wife worked practically right up until she gave birth, and I didn’t like that, knowing how hard we had been wanting children.


“Now my baby is one month old, he says with pride. “The biggest thing about the delivery was that I had never prepared to see something come out like me, round head and all, it was like looking at the mirror. I got here in my hands and forgot all about my wife.” He says that fatherhood based on his experiences could be broken down into one are: protection. Harris feels his job description with respect to his little girl is to provide support and protection for her forever.

These faces of fathers are often neglected in the real world with respect to media and the overall image of African American men. Let’s not forget; as the descendents of slaves were frequently removed from family responsibilities for the sake of profit by rapacious slave masters, brokers and merchants. Many young men like myself have inherited this sordid legacy, and never really knew or ere raide in households with their biological male parental units. Being basically inaccessible and/or available, we have managed to define being a father in a different perspective.

I will not blame history alone for these occurrences. Self-determination would have manifested another result if many fathers were steadfast in their belief of the family. And for the record most African American men were determined to preserve their families for we as people have survived conditions no one else has confronted. Therefore, it is not unusual when men are overlooked, as Harris was when he was at the hospital. The doctors and nurse always seemed to speak directly to his wife. “I had to straighten them out a few times and explain that the baby’s father is here and got just as an important part in this baby’s life as the baby’s mother does,” he says.

Many have viewed or felt this invisibility either first hand or vicariously. In all truth, church of the world in which we reside, through various news speak sources, purports consistently that men such as those speaking within this article and others such as myself do not exist. Often they talk about us, “black fathers” as if we were invisible. As if we were invisible. As if speaking of African American men as being fathers is taboo or politically incorrect. But the record is otherwise. We have demonstrated that we do exist and that is not because we are individuals. I coach both Little League baseball and basketball and see fathers all over the place, actively involved, from all walks of life.

To say it is troubling that we are often overlooked is an understatement. In our own communities, it seems as if we can only see ourselves. And we see ourselves often,. We see each other at MARTA stations, parks, PTA meetings,school plays and birthday parties. We seem to bon on site, exchanging looks and facial expressions tat only our kind can know. Marvin Davis, a native of Memphis, Tennessee, is that father of tow boys ages eight and five years old. Martin says being a father “is definitely a responsibility that I take strongly.” The business executive continues, “what I mean is that I see that as of now, I ma here to raise two black boys to not doubt themselves for any reason, economics, skin color or nothing.”



Davis reinforces his perspective by saying he is “trying to build string minds that can work and function in a structure and system designed to defeat them.” With all of the may roles he must play, he's says that he can definitely tell you want fatherhood is not. “It is not just bringing your check home and saying ‘I am clothing and feeding my kids.” He says that fathers help children to know that no matter what, there is and will be one main person that they can go to “who ain’t got no other motivations but to help them be better.”


So what is being a father about? I can’t really say, but these men have given us some food for thought. Being a father is a commitment. It is a commitment to supporting a family and working hard in spirit and time to make certain nothing will manifest that brings harm to ones seeds and they may grow, they may never develop or survive without consistent and compassionate care. Fathers, we salute you, for we truly know that we need no reward for what we do, either hand what we experience through daily interaction with our children.

Trick or Treat

Yo, I am a father. I have the greatest son any man could ask for and recently, I added a daughter to the fold – not like she a yearling or something, but rather my newest clan member. I love the both to death and I have fears for both as well, but the fears I have for my son are completely different and not as scary as those I have contrived to develop for my daughter. Namely because as a man, you can accept some things as being inevitable, in particular as an Africa American man. But my daughter, I am just afraid to think.

With the new focus of our individualistic culture, I am afraid that my daughter will value something other than herself as being the most important commodity she has. As it stands, with videos and music, women are nothing more than hoes. Even in the movies, television soaps we see the same imagery. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m the kind of man who liked hoes, tricks, freaks, and bitches and unfortunately, via my south Memphis up-bringing referred to them as such. Even in the understanding that I did not regard the women in my family (with the exception one cousin) as being this way.


Now with a daughter, I am scared. I am scared that she will turn out to be one of these women who defines a man by how much money he has, or more specifically, how much money he will spend on her. I am afraid that if a man offers here a few hundred dollars, or a purse, she will get on her knees and service him orally. I’m afraid that she may end up doing something and selecting a man that may result in her being in a porn movie or worse, dead along some remote rural highway. Dang, I never thought being a father was so hard, but when you have little girls, it’s an entirely different picture. I just hope she will not be a trick, but rather a treat. Guess her mother and I got a ot of work in front of us.