Leave and Cleave

Derailed by Mom Issues:

With the passing of this past Mother's Day, I had been inspired to hash out a couple things in a new blog post.  However, I felt like there was so much I have in my head to say, that all the ideas trip over one another.  I have no clear train of though, because I can't complete any.  This is what my mom does to me.  I feel every emotion flood into my head, and nothing all at the same time. I've had three thoughts in my head, regarding my mom, but they continue to interrupt one another. Since I can't get the finished thoughts out of my head, I will get them away from having to keep looking at them in order to finish them.

This idea I kept coming back to, but it forces me to rethink about a time period that was really rough, and took my wife and I a few years to get beyond.  I had three other ideas I may revisit someday, but I don't like thinking about thins that are upsetting to me, and my mother is just that.  

"Mommy Dearest"

I am the youngest of seven, and I work with students who sometimes either can't talk, or not very well.  I see the world the way a behaviorist does; what you DO is who you ARE. To quote rapper DMX, "Talk is cheap!". I come from an eloquent, well-spoken, educated, and persuasive family.  I was fooled into thinking a lot of things growing up, and even though our words can be counter to our core character, our actions can only be counter to that core for so long.  A little bit of adversity, and I learned who my family really was, and who I really was.  

Matthew 12:46-50

While he was yet speaking to the multitudes, behold, his mother and his brethren stood without, seeking to speak to him.  And one said unto him, Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, seeking to speak to thee.  But he answered and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?  And he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said, Behold, my mother and my brethren!  For whosoever shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother.

A Very Long Engagement

In the Summer of 2003 I proposed to my wife.  In the time from that day until our wedding the following Summer, we experienced a lot of turmoil from external forces.  Just to give you an idea about what happened in the 12 month engagement aside from the usual wedding preparations: I visited her fam in Ecuador, returned to learn that my mom and step-dad were trying to use their influence in our church to stop our wedding, one of my brothers jumped on the band wagon, I tried to appease the situation by making him my Best Man, he agreed, later decided to cuss out my fiancé over the phone and said he wouldn't be a part of my wedding, My mom made a plea to me not to marry my wife, My fiancé and I went to counseling to deal with this situation, I met my BioDad, I did not invite my mother to a wedding she did not want to occur, she still did not show up, we had a beautiful wedding with 400+ in attendance, an amazing reception where we danced until almost midnight, and will be married for 7 years this Summer.  That's the engagement in a nutshell.  

Mom is MIA

Throughout the entirety of my engagement, and on the day of my wedding, I struggled with the loss of relationship with my mother.  Even though I was closer to my Step-Dad, it is the relationship with my mom I feel that she cheated me out of. Because if the way she raised me, and the things she said to me, I assumed that she would be a great mother-in-law and grandmother, ultimately.  I still have a hold-out for my kids to know their grandmother, but I won't force ANY negative influence into their lives.  I grew up with a mother who was very strong and determined it's where I get those qualities), but the reality is closer t insecure and confused.  I don't know if I will ever get a chance to talk with the strong woman who raised me; I think she is gone from me forever.  

The Mother of MY Children

The idea of mother, when i think about what I think it should be, and what I experience, they do not always match up.  As a mother, would you tell your child that they were an accident, almost aborted, conceived in hate?  Of course not, because you are most likely a well-adjusted individual.  My wife is constantly amazed at the miracle that is our children.  She is awe-struck an the idea that these two beautiful being are the product of us.  She is protective, she builds them up, she teaches them, she trains them, she disciplines them, she is creative in how she interacts with them.  She is an amazing mother.  I hope to talk her into writing on this blog one day [fingers crossed].  I never have, and I never will have any fears about my kids when they are with their mother.  

I love my wife.  When I see the things she does for our kids, I don't wish that I had those things from my own mother.  However, I do wish she was able to be around to be those things for her grandchildren.  

I live two miles from my mom, and we're worlds apart.

-JB

Ramblings on The BroHood and ManHood

There is something that I will always be no matter what... a brother.  No matter how hard I try, I will never out-grow it, I will never move on to something bigger and better.  From the moment I was born, until the day I die, I will always be someone's brother.  There is no changing that.  

Being a man, on the other hand, is not a given.  There is only one influence that is able to validate your rite of passage into manhood. It is not the prostitute or stripper your friends paid for to "usher" you into your manhood.  It's not how fast you can round the bases with your girlfriend. The only influence that can do this for boys is that of a father-figure.

Before I continue, I should point out that I have a very high level of respect for step-fathers.  In fact, I had a high level of respect for mine growing up, and I didn't even meet my BioDad until my early twenties.  But when you build your reputation, and the basis for who you are and what you mean to an individual on an intricate bed of lies, then it only takes one piece of truth to unravel it all.  In a very unspecific way, that is the best way I can explain my lost relationship with my step-dad.

To quote John Eldredge, the author of Wild at Heart, "Every boy, in his journey to become a man, takes an arrow to the center of his heart, in the place of his strength. Because the wound is rarely discussed and even more rarely healed, every man carries a wound. And the wound is nearly always given by his father."  

I feel overjoyed (sarcasm) that I was able to connect with my BioDad and lose my relationship with my step-dad around the same time. It was like I looked up one day, and I was suddenly fatherless. Now, if my step-dad was a fraction of the man he spent years convincing me and others he was, then he would still be in my life, and I wouldn't have had a need to start this blog. But he isn't. He's not even the opposite of the man he said he was... he's nothing. The last time I bumped into him, I had zero emotional response.  I actually was surprised at how much I didn't care to even look at him. Why? He became a stranger to me. How can I hate him when I don't even know him?  

My BioDad is another case all together. Most of my anger towards him was because of how he was vilified by my mother. Am I excusing him? Not at all. Did she take his kids from him? Yes. He told me he left the state because he was so angry that he was going to do something violent. So, maybe I should be grateful he didn't make me motherless, but he didn't put out the effort hot be in our lives.  Until I was in my twenties, I had NO conscious memory of him, and no idea what he looked like. I could have walked by him and never knew it.  Since he was never around, he doesn't know how to be BE around. He went from missing to absentee.

UPDATE: While working on this post I received an email from my BioDad saying that he's moving to Cali in 2 weeks.  I don't know if I have a reaction to this, or if I just want to have a reaction to this.  I am disappointed, and I want to keep from the cliche "Fine, I didn't want you around anyway!" reaction.  

All this to say that i am a 30-year-old father of 2 with daddy issues I may not be able to get resolved.  There is a missing rite of passage in my journey to manhood.  

Why doesn't a brother have the ability to become this influence in a young man's life?  He just doesn't.  Consider the situations where you hear these phrases:

"You're the man of the house now." 

"Ibn."

"You're not my dad."  

"Heir Apparent." 

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."  

How does a brother validate or usher a boy into manhood?  Can they?  What is so significant in the relationship between father and son that when that relationship is broken, or damaged, both parties suffer.  I have mentioned in a previous post, I have had trouble with my relationships with one of my brothers, but this was not a relationships I ever felt internally and deeply hurt by.  Yes, I was angered by them, but they would never send me to therapy.  

I have recently been hit by the realization that phrases like, "He's not heavy, he's my brother" and, "Am I my brother's keeper?" have limitations.  I am not only human, but a flawed human.  I can only handle so much.  I can only forgive so much.  I can only forgive what has been asked of me to be forgiven.  I am working on forgiving in the face of continued offense.  I'm working on it.  

I may not be able to resolve my daddy issues, but I still hope to resolve my brother-issues.  

I realize that this post was all over the place, but I had to get it out of my head to think straight again.  Thanks for stopping by, and feel free to join the discussion and leave a comment. 

-JB

Moment of Self-Awareness

I've been known to be funny.  I have developed my sarcasm.  I ignore my introverted-ness at times.  I exploit my Alpha-Dog within.  I hide my inner Geek (sometimes).  I stomp out the urges to yell.  I still don't understand emotions (mine or others').  I know how those who don't know me may categorize me upon seeing me, and it intrigues me.  I used to go to the store in baggy hooded sweats and have headphones in my ear without any music playing just to hear what people say when they think you can't hear them.  I love mirrored sunglasses.  The behavior of people intrigues me; that's why I do what I do for work.  

I don;t think there's a way to translate the behaviorist side of myself into this blog.  My sense of humor is passive-aggressive, sarcastic, subtle, inappropriate, and just mean sometimes.  But how does someone bounce back and forth from mommy-issues to a vacuum they enjoy, to manhood, to anger-management, to his little princess, to his son, to race issues, to techie concerns, to special Education developments, to whatever and still maintain a captive audience?  

If I've learned anything from no one, it's that anyone can teach you something at any moment.  

I have had a great response to some of my more"inspired" posts, and I think that the pressure I felt to do some equally deep follow-up posts was self-imposed.  Yes, I want to discuss some heavier issues in my life, but I am not a deep, touchy-feely, cum-by-yah, "everyone's a winner" kind of person.  I am, in fact a fairly simple person... or at least I think I am.  My own philosophy is that if you have to tell people you are something, then you are not it.  If you were, then people would know that.  But is that the case when it comes to an online persona?

Am I doing the Modern Dad a disservice by trying to stick to one niche?  since today's dads are "EVERY-MEN", who am I to try and stick myself into a box?  My own Twitter profile explains the many sides of me thus far: Ex College Athlete, Husband, Dad, Geek, Special Education teacher... Just trying my best.  But that still scratches my surface.  I am a diapering/greco-roman-style baby wrestler.  I am a battlefield medic, ordering the able troop (Peables) to go retrieve supplies while helping a downed soldier tend to his wounds (poop and a diaper rash).  I am the strongest-weakest, fastest-slowest, best-worst wrestler/dancer ever as I balance being the strongest dad ever with getting beaten up by my kids.  I have Love-Amnesia: I get annoyed at little things my wife does, but I'm so happy to see her when we're home that I forget, and she's just perfect.  I am a dormant volcano of a has-been athlete that I have to calm myself from going too hard too fast when I get a chance to compete.  I am a pushover of a disciplinarian.  I am the head, and I show examples of how to follow, and how to lose.  I can nap while my kids are jumping all over me.  I am an educator of modern-mythologies (comics). 

I am a dad.  I am a modern dad.  

I am everything my pack needs me to be. 

Back Again

           I am doing my best to want to set a time to meet with my mother.  I should want the opportunity to rebuild a new relationship with her on my own terms, but I’m not.  Is it because the hurts are too deep?  No.  Is it because the betrayal is unforgivable?  No.  Is it because I’m waiting for an apology or for her to know how much she hurt me?  No.  Then why?  The answer to this is easy: I’m happy.  I’m happy, and it took removing her from my life to achieve it.  So, then the question becomes, “Why would I risk letting her back into my life?” 

            I found an old journal entry from the week after my 23^rd birthday, when I was only one month into not speaking to my mom. 

            Journal Entry from 7 years ago:

I received a card from my mother saying exactly what is wrong in our relationship.  She said simply, “We’ll never let go.”  To me, that is the problem.  They are not allowing me to do what all men are supposed to do; leave his mother and his father, and cleave to his wife.  They do not realize that love doesn’t hold tight, love lets go.  Love is not selfish, love lets us go and learn who we are.  Love doesn’t dictate to us who we are or should be.  Love isn’t boastful, but they chose to take all the responsibility for the good in my life.  They want to tell me what my struggles are and are not.  They want me to be their little boy forever.  I get no credit for growing to where I am.  The people who should see my growth don’t. 

The call me childish and they call me immature.  If I am immature and not a man, then define maturity and what it means to be a man! […] If we want to hold the past over someone, theirs is the marked past that needs to be confronted, dealt with, and accepted.  Their disrespect for my future wife is their way of choosing not to be a part of our lives.  I won’t be around someone, or ask my future wife to be around someone who will not respect us. 

            It reminded me of what I was feeling and thinking at the time.  Seven years and one month since that entry and I’ve only seen my mother twice in person.  However, we’ve been exchanging texts for the last month about meeting up again. 

            I wish this was some kind of accomplishment, but the person texting me sounds like the same person I removed from my life sever years ago.  Do I really want to open Pandora’s Box hoping that the world doesn’t end this time?  A main hesitation is that I don’t want to meet with her without a plan for what I want to say.  However, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I have nothing to say to her.  So where does that leave me. 

A History Redefined

            As a history major in college, it was stressed to me that history is not something that we read about that happened a long time ago.  We discussed the idea that history is, in fact, a conversation between time and space… between the past and the present.  The lessons we were taught at a young age didn’t make sense until we were older.  New archeological discoveries lead to new revelations about the past and our origins.  When we finally see our parents as humans and not omnipotent creatures in charge of our fate, it gives us a new perspective on how life really was, and how it really can be.  As children become parents themselves, there is a constant internal dialogue between the lessons we were taught, what we actually learned, and how we plan to teach our children.  Our own children either help us to understand our parents and how hard they worked on our behalf, or it leaves us perplexed by the choices they made. 

            Sadly, I fall into the category of the latter.  My parents were the BEST when I was young.  My family was likened to the Cosby’s by my friends, and other families came to my parents for advice and support.  However, this pedestal I placed my family on was shattered, and everything I thought my parents were and stood for was undermined by the time I was 23. 

           

One single example:

My parents were successful Black entrepreneurial business people.  Or so I thought they were.  They did have a company for more than ten years, and I worked with their employees for two summers.  I got to know these people and enjoy working with them.  They took me in, and showed me the ropes and I had a good time even though it was hard work.  I assumed that the company was doing well because we had a house, and we had enough food to feed several teens, and we had a sailboat that we would enjoy on the Puget Sound.  I learned the value of hard work, and a job well done, and to work with integrity because we did not have a supervisor checking in on us all the time.  I learned these things from people who, as it turns out, do not have these values.  I do not believe that a business owner acts with integrity when they have an expensive recreational vehicle like a 34-foot Catalina sailboat and their employees may or may not have received a valid paycheck for all their work.  A sailboat provided me with great memories that are now tarnished to reflect on now, because I can only think of other people who were trying to provide for themselves and their families while we were out on the water.  I would have gladly grown up without a sailboat if that meant hard work was properly compensated, and families were provided for. 

           

My parents… were not the Cosbys.  The people who raised me until I was 18, was not a true representation of who they truly were.  The people who raised me were people of integrity, strong and determined to persevere through the trials and obstacles that got in their way.  The people who raised me did not tolerate dishonesty and were the quintessential American Dream realized.  They taught me how to work hard and play hard.  They taught me to value all people from the most to the least.  They taught me how to love God, and how to be my own person.  They taught me that no one will hand me anything, and that I have to go get it.  They made sure I had the tools and values to be successful in life. 

HOWEVER…

Their ideas of success, and what they taught me success meant were two different things.  The people who raised me was not who they really were, and they could not keep up the charade forever.  When their veil was pulled from over my eyes they tried to say, “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”  

Lasting Effects:

What does this mean for my kids?  How have the failings of my parents effected how I parent my children?  PROFOUNDLY!!!  My wife tells me that I am a good father.  I don’t think I can put into words what that little statement means to me.  Being blessed to have both a daughter and a son I am living vicariously through them.  Not in the way that I am try get them to succeed where I failed in life, or where I came up short.  I AM experiencing what it feels like to have loving, honest, parents of integrity, and character.  I am doing my best to replace the tainted memories of my childhood with the memories of their childhood. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be.  We are not supposed to be the kind of people who use our children to get something, or to work the system.  Our children are not accessories, or trophies.  Our children are not charged with the birthright of continuing on our lowly ambitions.  As parents, it is US that is charged to help them reach a level we did not know was possible. 

For my kids, I’m starting by being the person worthy to be called their dad.

Profiled

I got profiled on Dad of Divas' blog in his Dads in the Limelight Series.  Check it out!

A Blogger with MOJO!

When I started MvD, I was looking for dads to consult with, and to bounce ideas off of, and to connect with dads who were trying their best to be dads and a man.  When connecting with dads, it is reasonable to assume that you will come across some great moms as well.  One such mom is the author of the Mojo Mama Blog. 

She is one of the few people I've met since starting MvD that I've had the opportunity to have a real chat with.  We happen to cross online paths in the midst of adversity and stressful situation.  In these moments (though brief), her character became apparent.  She is a protective lioness who you don't want to encounter when she's on the hunt. 

I'm sure there are good and bad sides to ourselves that we are aware of, but an online identity allows us the freedom to shed some of our inhibitions and become amplified versions of ourselves.  In these moments of stress, and venting, she showed that she was a person who wants what is best for her family, she is willing to help others, but she is not willing to be walked over. 

I was glad she was willing to answer my interview questions, and I liked all her answers so much that I will just let you see what she wrote for yourself:

Backgound:

• How long have you been working on Mojomamablog? - Just over six months now.  I added a widget on my sidebar to track the countdown to my blogoversary.  I'm not quite sure what it is I'm going to do when it comes, but I'm excited to hit my one-year!

• Where did the name come from? - I had a friend that I'd been working with on some other projects, and she joked with me that I was the "Mama of Mojo".  I had been reading some parenting blogs, and wanted a nickname to use to sign comments, so I started signing things MojoMama.  However, that wasn't available on Twitter or as a website, so I tacked Blog on to the end of it, and both were available, so that works! :) 

• Why did you start blogging? - I've blogged on and off for the last several years, and I've always loved the interaction with the other bloggers.  For a long time, I only blogged through LiveJournal, and as great as that is, and as intimate it is, I really prefer the more open blogging of the blog I have now.

• Have these reasons changed or evolved over the years? - I'd say they've ebbed to different reasons, back and forth.  I first started blogging back in college, mostly on MySpace (hack hack) a long time ago.  And then I moved to some old blogging sites that some of my friends used.  Once I got pregnant with my older son, I moved to LiveJournal and got really involved there, and actively blogged there for several years.  When I first started, it was because it was fun, and a great way to stay in contact with old friends from school.  Once I started the LiveJournal, I had just moved to a new very small town with my husband for his work, and my doctor had me on a low-activity "diet" with my pregnancy, so I actively blogged there to interact with other people because I was lonely.  Then I blogged because it was fun, as my life became more active again.  And now?  I'd say that I blog for the interaction in the outside world as well as to reach out to other moms with kids like my son.  (A really long answer, I'm sorry!)

• What are your plans or goals for your blog? - I'd love to be able to interact with lots of new people, and I really want to maybe help other moms who are looking to understand their kids with Aspergers, and figure out exactly what it is, and how it can affect their children.  That's one of the big reasons I actually set up a tab on my blog specifically for Aspergers, different resources as well as specific posts I've written about it.  Right now, we're really dealing a lot with it in our life, so my posts about it will very likely become more frequent.  There are several other bloggers that I read that have kids with Autism, and having a plethora of different moms out there who are dealing with it, I think, can really comfort some people who feel like they're overwhelmed with their situation, knowing that there are other people out there who are or have gone through the very same thing.  I know it's been comforting to me!

Parenting the Exceptional:

• Can you describe your family (in whatever level of detail you like)? - My husband and I have been married for over five years now, and we've definitely had our ups and downs, but overall, it's been a happy marriage.  Our older son, Turbo, was born three months after we got married -- oh yes, I was barefoot and pregnant at my wedding -- and is now 5 years old; three and a half years after that, we had our younger son, Bug, who is now 19 months old.  My husband -- Mr. Mojo -- is about half Mexican, with dark hair and dark eyes, but surprisingly, both of our boys came out with blue eyes, and red hair (with tempers to match!).

• Are you willing to talk about your exceptional child? - Absolutely!  I'm actually surprised by how few people understand what Autism is, or even Aspergers.  Many people comment that they know someone with Aspergers, but many times don't really know what it is.  I do my best to try and educate a little bit here and there.

• How has raising an him changed he way you look at life? I am assuming it has changed because mine has changed just from working with exceptional children. - Oh, I would absolutely say so!  It's even changed the way I LIVE my life.  Things are easiest and best when my son is in situations that are in control and low-stimulation.  So in our house, we don't generally have a lot of loud noises, not a whole lot of high-impact situations.  Everything is a certain way, certain types of music, so it means having an mp3 player with a preset playlist for rides in the car, and very carefully mapping out our day, and what we're doing, to try and make everything low-impact.  So when I, personally, get into a situation outside of our usual, it can be somewhat overwhelming for me too!

• What is your favorite thing about each of your sons? - Turbo has got the most infectious laugh.  He finds the most random things absolutely hysterical.  And when he tends to have a fairly monotone way of talking, hearing his laugh just suddenly burst out at something that happens is like a ray of sunlight.  Sometimes, on a rough day where I could really use a smile, I'll go over and tickle him just to hear him laugh.  He is probably the most ticklish child I have EVER met!  Bug is absolutely hysterical to watch throughout the day.  Just different ways he goes about the house, you can tell his mood simply by the way he walks!  If he's feeling silly, he'll walk kind of hunched forward, knees bent, and arms straight out behind him, like he's taking off for flight.  If he's proud of himself for something, he walks standing straight up, his hands clasped behind his back, like a little peacock strutting around the house.  And his emotions are always plastered across his face. 

MojoMamaBlog:

• Who was or is your your intended audience? - Honestly, I don't know that I really have an intended audience so much as just anybody who wants to read my blog.  I really enjoy interacting with everybody, but especially parents, because we all understand each other a bit better.

• What do you hope a visitor to your blog leaves with, or leave knowing about you and your family? - My goal is to always make somebody smile, whether through my blog, my Twitter, or in real life.  So even if they don't learn anything new, I'd love for them to have a smile.

• What do you hope your regular followers get out of your blog? - I'm still figuring out the whole responding to comments thing, but I'd like to think that my followers know how very much their comments mean to me!  I hope they feel the appreciation that I feel when I get a comment on my posts, or how much their thoughts uplift me on particularly difficult posts.  I'd like them to not only get to know me, but I'd like them to feel some sort of camaraderie that I feel as well.

• You said that you're not that interesting, so I'm going to ask you why you think I wanted to do this about you? - Honestly, I have no idea!  Haha  When I initially saw your tweet, I didn't realize that you truly wanted to interview me, I thought it was just one of those tweets that goes out to share a post, and maybe look for new topics?  I'm guilty of sending out a few of those.  I was flattered to know that you actually did want to interview me!  Of all the parents of special children, I find that I'm not one of the most interesting or entertaining, but it's a work in progress, and it's nice to know somebody sees the progress!

My Conclusion:
What I get from this Mojo Mama, is that she appreciates and understands the importance of relationships and interactions.  I am working on that.  I am a Special Education teacher and was drawn to the fighting spirit she has when her children are concerned.  I have come across many parents of exceptional children, but it was her fight for her kids that lets me know that they will be successful.  With a mom with this much mojo in your corner, wouldn't you be?

Thanks again MojoMama,
JB

Here We Go Again

I am in the middle of the longest conversation I've have with my mother I the last 5 years. It's been longer, I'm sure, but I'm giving a conservative estimate. This conversation, however, has only consisted of less than 10 texts back and forth. That's how little I've been able to, or had to say. Thank goodness fir the march or time, I think I can actually remain calm and unemotional (or at best, keep my emotions in check). I'm curious to see what comes of this exchange between us, but I'm not holding my breath.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

30s-A-Comin'

30 MUST not be that old.  Granted, I don't feel like I did when I was 20, but then again I didn't feel like i was 10... so why look back?

What's most messed up about looking at 20 fondly is that I had bad health habits.  I played college ball, I ate like a billy goat (whatever crossed my path), and I worked out 5-6 days each week with great athletes.  Now, I can only average working out 2-3 times each week and jump on the Kinect a couple more times, and I lift alone.  So it's easy to get caught-up in wanting to lose the full 40 lbs I've put on since college ball.

I know 40 lbs sounds like a lot of weight, but here's my (unhealthy) diet that kept me at 200 lbs during the season.  I woke up, ate nothing for breakfast, went to classes, would lose my appetite in the cafeteria and eat a large salad for lunch, or nothing again, have a mandatory team workout, practice, get home around 6, and carbo-load on pasta for the next day.

If eating different and less would do it, I would have been there.  I was down at 230 (about 10 away from my current goal), but I had not worked out for several years and it was all muscle atrophy.  Once I started working out again, I immediately put on 10 lbs.

Now my thinking is that I want to go from 240-220, add some muscle bulk, add lots of conditioning, find my abs again under my padding, and rediscover my athletic-ness.  I will lose weight and add the muscle in a way that is sustainable to my life now with two young kids.  In other words, slow and steady wins the race. 

So I'm going to be 30.  I've been to Canada (a short drive from Seattle), Mexico, Ecuador, and Greece.  I still have yet to visit Asia, Australia, and Africa visit a friend in Nigeria).  There is much left to do, and 20-something me couldn't do it, but 30-something me will.

THEN & NOW
20s - Working jobs, trying to make it through school.

30s -Working my career and providing for my family.
20s - No plan, just wingin' it.

30s -Deliberate and directed.
20s - Known as someone's brother and someone's son.

30s -Known as someone's husband and someone's dad.
20s - Assumed things about people.

30s -Learned things about people.
20s - Believed the hype.

30s -Became the hype.

Come on 30s!  Whatchu Got?

A Matter of Perspective

As February approaches, I get a bit nervous.  Some may mistake it for the coming Valentine's Day, but that is not the case.  I am not one to get caught-up in consumerism; if my wife doesn't know I love her the other 364 days of the year, then what will V-Day tell her?  She's only worth the effort one time each year?  Anyways, My birthday is in February, but even that is not what makes me somewhat nervous; not even turning 30 this year is what makes me nervous about February.  I get a tingling nervousness because February is Black History Month.  But why?  Why do I get this feeling?

Well, here's a picture of me
 
Yay!  I'm Black!  I don't have to feel guilty at all this month!  I Majored in History so I won't sound like an idiot when someone mistakenly says Whitney Houston Invented the Cotton Gin in Eli, Texas, I won't agree with them.  I am a 3rd-Generation college grad, and a 2nd-Gen Master's degree earner.  Success is expected in my family.  My brother and I both were accepted to military academies, my other brother was an NAIA College National Champion in Track.  So why does BHM make me nervous?  Here's a picture that illustrates my life

 

There are actually too many chocolate chips in this "town" of a cookies, because I grew up around an OBSCENE amount of  White people.  As in, my family was The Black Family they knew.  

So here is the root of my nervous tingles: I think I give, and have given, all my childhood friends the wrong idea about Black people.  There was an assumption that we were just like the Cosby Show, but how realistic is that?  I was good at sports, but i didn't bring it up because I knew it was a stereotype.  It wasn't fair to talk trash when I could always back it up... it was cockiness that could have bordered on mean.  Just because they found out Shawn Kemp could dunk in the 8th grade I was always asked if I could too... I spent whole days trying to jump higher just so I could.  I was not offended by remarks I had no knowledge were widely known as being racist or offensive.  

I was first called the N-Word in 3rd grade by a classmate who most likely heard it from their parents.  When I ask my mom what it meant, she said that it was a word for Black people.  I said, "Well, I am."  I got to learn about Black History from people who "had to " teach it with peers who could not relate.  I would get angry at images I watched in class about the Civil Rights protests, and not know why or have anyone to talk to about it.  I can't tell you the number of Black jokes I've laughed off.  

Now, I am a professional with a Master's in Education, and I find myself in as The Black Teacher in a school with a >1% minority enrollment.  I don't blame the district, it's only 25 miles East of Seattle.  I just want to make it through BHM without becoming a part of someone's curriculum. 

What does BHM mean to me? Nothing.  It doesn't land in the school year curricula during the Civil Rights movement, and to devote a single period of time to anything is to essentially ignore it the rest of the time.  If you want my opinion (which you must if you've made it this far into this post), then BHM starts in Math classes with the discussion of how a Black man's vote was only counted as two-thirds.  The you  can move into why we wanted to show America, and he world, that we are 100% MAN!