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FatherHood Stories: Presents of Mind

At the time he was working as a custodian at an elementary school on a military base. Each year there were electronics that got broken and they would throw them out instead of fixing them. Dad got permission to start bringing the broken stuff home. Pretty soon I had a little shop in the bedroom I shared with my other brothers. I was hardly 10 at the time fixing record players and reel to reel tape decks..

FatherHood Stories: Passing The Bar

I hated my turn. Because that always meant I was going to get stuck on the sand bar. It was a place in the middle of the bay that was only a few feet deep that boats knew to avoid. It was where dad would kick me off the boat if I missed a crab. I would have to watch him drive and dip alone and then he would come pick me up.

FatherHood Stories: The Music Within Me

Those were the days where most of us black folk used to tape all our music off the radio and would be so mad when the announcers talked over it. After a while we knew which deejay to call the radio station and ask for the song and we had the nerve to even tell him we were going to record it so could he please be quiet? Wow. Those were the days.

Fatherhood Stories: Watching How You Walk

As the boys ran off with the cart, my son tapped my leg and said “but daddy we don’t have money to eat. Why are you giving them your money?” And I said “baby we don’t have money, but you got me, and we got God. Most of these kids only got their mama. If they can make money honest then they won’t steal from the store. They won’t go to jail. And they won’t steal from us.” I don’t know how much my son understood but he accepted my answer.

The Ties That Bind

NEO, I am so amazed the things you write about so openly. I am learning so much about myself even while I am learning about you. You are such a strong brutha.  You don’t have fans Neo it seems like you have such a big online family. I can tell all of this is...

Empty Nest

For five years I had the honor of being a trustee to his growth- imparting to him everything that coursed through my veins. And although my blood does not flow through his, I never realized before how immaterial to him that had become.