Sunday, January 27, 2008

Afro-Dee-She-Act


When I was a youth Pops would comb/pick my hair every morning in the downstairs bathroom before taking me to school (circa 1978 - 1981). I not-so-fondly remember trying not to be a lil' punk as the popping-peas in my hair would call the tears behind my eyes accompanied by shrieks and pleading. The brother's hair was knappy and at that time in my life I wasn't happy (bout' my knaps). I told Pops one day "When I have a son he won't have to go through this." Dad just smiled. Normally I'd get a swat or so to keep me from hunching my shoulders and performing like he was killing me. It was worth it to have the Afro. Black Power yall'.
It's 2008 and my sun in late 2007 stated that he wanted his hair to be like Pop-T's hair. I think he also caught sight of a few of the BET videos and the normal t.v. stations that have commercials that depict people of African descent. We don't allow the kids to watch B.E.T. as we prefer Black Improvement over Black Entertainment. I have noticed that many times the youth of African descent on the boob-tube have fros'. My son's uncle (hermano-mio) has great photos with a Jackson-Five meets Angela Davis type of Afro. My wife decided that if he decided to grow an Afro he would have to grow an Afro and not punk out in the process. Son decided to grow his fro' until the spring time. I personally love his head with a very light Cesar (almost bald).
Every morning I'm combing son-suns head. Every morning he's screamin' bloody murder. We have tried grease, comb-in conditioner, and this brown stuff the wife found. He's still crying and jumping and dancing every time one of his peasy-peas opens up. 10 minutes later he's back to smiles singing "Knappy Boy.....& Pretty Boy" quoting Chris Brown and T-Pain's song entitled 'Kiss, Kiss'. He's so proud of his hair and it's humbling. As Pro-Black as I am I still wrestle with finding some African features as attractive as Euro' features. I once had my hair permed and straightened while I had an Afro (circa 1991). All these Mexican chicks I worked with would say "Oh...... You look Dominican !" Flattered was I, didn't know what a Dominican looked like was I also. During this time I was dating a woman named Chris who coaxed me into perming my hair. She loved running her fingers through my hair and I loved all the attention other women were showing me. One day Chris mentioned Malcolm X and I re-read the Autobiography of Malcolm X. I read it in High School mildly forced by my father and found new insight. About a week into the book I cut all of my hair off and grew back my normal knappy hair feeling proud to be African. My new found pride in what GOD gave me began the road to the end of Chris's presence in my life. I also found out that the Spanish speaking brothers I was cool with included Dominicans. I never realized that were we different other than their family's spoke Spanish. They looked like most of my American-born (African-Indian) family. Some of us were light, some were darker, some had straight to loose curly hair while others of us had knapps. To me they were Blacks who had Spanish forced upon their early family as English and Portugeese were forced upon my early fam'. It came down to this... Some of us expressed our African genes prominently while others of us showed our Indian or Euro' genes a little more prominently. Shouts out to Danny Rodriguez, one of my Amazulu-brethern who is from a Dominican family that migrated to the shores of the USA; he is my blogin' inspiration.
Seeing the pride my son displayed in his hair, even after the tears, is uplifting. He doesn't want to have his hair cut. He was reluctant to have it trimmed. The normal trip to a 7-11 after the cut didn't even have the same enticement it used to.
I told my son about the cry-quote I told my Pops as he was raking the rake through my head-jungle. He wouldn't stop laughing for about 10 minutes. When he stopped he told me "Dad you lied..........You make me go through the same thing every day.....You comb my hair too hard."
I grew up with a photo of a woman combing her daughters hair who was combing her daughter's hair. I think it's called 'Generations.' I was always a-wondering "Where is the man's version ?" Looking at my hands today I realized that GOD had already painted that picture. My hands were grooming the next generation. My pains became my son's pains through a grooming ritual. I'm able to easily run a comb through my thinning African hair now (circa 2008) and I'm noticing a patch where my hair won't grow. As I bald my son-sun is Afro'ing. During dinner son-sun told his grandpa about the conversation we had regarding the pains I endured combing my hair as a youth. As they giggled I felt warm. My fatherhood ability is growing, my family is growing together, and I'm going bald. While enjoying an adult beverage during a party this weekend I saw an old man picking his Afro while looking in the mirror. I raised my glass-bottle and toasted the Afro. A toast to the love of my past and present, all through a grooming ritual.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Hating on Santa Claus



Now I don't dig this St. Nick thing....... If it wasn't for my wifey our home wouldn't have the big heavy dude. Mywife complained one year "You're taking away the Joy in Christmas !" I replied "Isn't the Joy in Christmas the celebration of the birth of Christ ?" ........ With that carefully prepared retort I thought I'd won this one, she being the supa-Christian............................ I still lost.....
Seven years later....... I shared with the sun-son "I want to get your mum a 'Wii' (the video gaming system). So I looked and looked, everywhere was sold out. No worries, the back-up gift King was en-la-casa ! Her 19th (ha-ha) born-day was coming in mid. January and I'd get the console for that date...............
Jan. was not good to a brotha'. I couldn't find it. Target was out of stock. The Wal-Mart staff kept laughing at me. GameStop advised "Wait until 1/20. We'll have some then." No love.
Jan. 3rd - Sun-son asks "Why didn't you write it on the Christmas list. I got everything I asked for on my list (I know, I paid), my sister got almost everything she wanted from her list and a whole lot more. Santa would have gotten' it for you."
Jan. 5th "Dad, I told you should have written Santa."
Jan. 9th "Dad, you really should listen to me sometimes."
Jan. 11th "Dad, did you find it yet ? I bet Santa could find one."
Jan. 12th "I'm really mad Dad, I was looking forward to that Wii. Mum would have loved playing with me. You should have...." (His mouth now covered by my your-on-my-last-nerve-hand).
Jan. 15th (After the Wifey's bornday). "Dad, can I have a Wii for my birthday since you missed Mommy's birthday ? You could put it on an early Christmas list.....Dad.....Are you listening to me Dad ?......Dad !
I hate Santa.

Cannon in the Hole ! ! !


Overheard by the wifey.....
During dinner our sun-son needed to relieve some additional rectal gas..... Being a southern raised gentleman-in-training he excused himself from the table and began racing to the hallway yelling
(loosing his decorum)
"Canon in the Hole !"

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Looking Fab !


Lady-girl (Yea, I have some strange names for folk) loves dressing up. Yesterday her Mother-Grandma brought over some clothes that little one received during the holy-days/holidays. Rukiya put them on and stated in her sing-songly voice "Some Body's Looking Fabulous ! I need to be a model for these clothes." Little does she know that she is my model. I now judge women by my daughter. I meet someone and think "Is this the type of woman I'd want my lil'-girl to be ?" "Is this woman going to be someone my daughter will look up too ?" "Should Rukiya dress like her when she gets older ?" "How will I protect my girl from women who act like this ?"
I have friends who share photos of hot-chics and I can't enjoy the photos/videos anymore as I keep thinking "This is someones daughter...... I'd have-ta kill a muther..... if they tried to take this photo of Rukiya." (Of course Angela Bassett, Jada Pinkett-Smith, Rosario Dawson, Rosie Perez, Lucy Lu, and the hot-wife on the Bernie Mack Show all get the exception to the rule pass) The funny thing is... this experience is not a kill-joy, it's more of a feel-joy. I'm joyful when I walk into the house and she runs full speed toward me screaming "Daddy's Home !"
Watching fools get caught on "Predator" for wanting to be with lil' girls is now something I can no longer stand. Bang City has a song called "Time To Kill" that has an excellent chorus of "Pedophiles don't make it to trial, it's time to kill like Samuel (pronounced as Sam-You-Wild)." I second that emotion. God might not forgive me for the murder, but God gotta' understand. Being a Dad, a conscious Dad, has it's share of fears; devout fears that the thing that bring one so much joy might be tarnished. Having children that behave well and achieve is icing on the cake. Baby-girl you look Fab, but you make a Daddy feel complete.

Overheard today. . .




Sherrice: ". . . and you're a big girl now. you're big enough to sleep in your own bed by yourself. Besides, Mommy likes to sleep with Daddy. (beat) How do you think you got here?

Eva: (after some thought): "By car?"

Sunday, January 6, 2008

She's always be my joy...

It's one thing to be a father to my children....It's totally another joy to be a Father-figure to another's child. I'm blessed to be all that and some-mo- stuff ! My brother Daniel has two lovely little ones (seen here cheek-to-fore head on a trip to A-T-L Georgia!) who have indeed stolen a father's heart. Dominique, the youngest of Daniel's, calls me "Co-Co" which sometimes means 'Uncle' and other times means "Seko". She can truly lighten the load of life when she enters the room with a smile that wipes away disasters. Demya became Dan's when he married his wife. Demya is so full of emotion and tugs at my heart-strings each time she slaps on a warm extended hug. I never realized how 'fatherly' the position of Uncle can be. I actually feel responsible for their well-being and often think about them when I'm buying things for Mi-Ninos. Today we ate lunch at Ce-Ce's Pizza as a united front. Daniel and his family and Familia-mio. Looking at the eight of us at one table quietly celebrating family is a bit life-changing. Today Dad (My Blog Bout' Me Daddy) presided upon his last service for a church in Chesapeake. The eight of us planned to worship with Pops this morning and we all forgot about it until we came together for lunch. As I remembered Pops service it came across me that I was where I needed to be...... with family. Dan and I seem to be growing closer again and I love how my children enjoy their auntie & uncle. Family is indeed the cornerstone of a civilization, and I'm warm on the inside considering that I'm following the Creator's plan of family. God is good, Family is good. While pondering this emotional nugget Demya had an emotional meltdown as her mother Hope-Dori informed her of the family's plan to move from their current townhouse to save some money to buy a home. As she sobbed "I don't want to go, I don't want to go." I felt her cutting pain. I expect to feel my children's pain, yet I felt this child's pain in a way I've never experienced before in my 11 years of being an empathic counselor to school children and three years as a classroom teacher. This pain it me like my children's pain..... That mix of pain with a smile knowing that the pain was a temporary staircase leading to a better quality of life. I realized how much I love Demya with each of her tears. Last year when Daniel married Dori he presented and placed a ring upon Demya's finger during the reception vowing to never forsake her as a father. The whole crowd was boo-hooing following my crying-like-a-punk self. I was DJing the event and introduced the surprise event with a quiver in my voice as I held back my tears. Prior to the wedding Demya had been on pins and needles.... As much as she loved Dan she was so scared that he would leave she and her mother worse than found. Dan's actions were ritualistic and symbolic and touching. I didn't get paid for doing Dan's event, my price for the DJ/Entertainment work I did for his event would have been $1,250. Watching him place that ring onto Demya's finger and making that promise to be a father would have been something I would have paid $1,250 to see. As I watched Demaya's meltdown I began to melt. So much so that Wifey informed me later that while I was hypnotized by Demya's tears my daughter was carrying on a conversation with me. I was too touched by my Honor-Roll student (Demaya) to notice that the world was moving around me. It's moments like this when Father-hood, or Uncle-hood as it is, is something to treasure.
Crisette Michele has a beautiful song named "Your Joy." While riding in the car Rukiya began singing the chorus ("you'll always be my father, and I'll always be your Joy") to me and I teared up like a punk. Since then I've been calling her 'Joyful'. While hugging everyone off today from the pizza place Demaya gave me her normal hug and I blurted-out "My Joyful Honor Roll Student". While she may never know the importance of my hug-talk, her presence has been a joy to me. I look forward to dancing with the bride at her wedding. Since I met her, she's always been my Joy.