The Letter I Never Received

I didn't know if it would be addressed to me by my first or middle name. Actually, I had no memory of him ever saying my name. One thing that I did know was it would be received in December. Yeah, of course it would come in December...my birthday, Christmas, and I'm sure establishing a relationship was one of his New Year's resolutions. I hoped to find it before my mother. I didn't think she would be upset, but I thought it might be awkward. I wanted it to include a check...better yet, cash. I would be able to hide cash from my mom. I hated when she made me spend my money for my stuff (don't judge me). I wondered if he'd apologize for the lost time or just entice me by describing what was in store for our future. I also wondered if all of my questions would be answered in the letter. Actually, I wondered if I'd care about answers when the letter came.

Well, I'm over 30 now and the letter never came. I stopped expecting it a little more than a decade ago. Not receiving that letter from my father, amongst other painful memories, has helped to shape my personality. What I once viewed as a gift, I now recognize is a curse. Believe it or not, it took me hearing an underrated and under achieving rapper pointing out this character flaw in himself for me to see it clearly. There is a piece of me that feels everyone is disposable. When hurt bad enough, I'm able to erase history and act like we never met. Like water - I guess I follow the path of least resistance. Sometimes it hurts too much to confront some issues and/or people. As I mature, I'm less consumed by reasons and more interested in results. In the words of Kanye, "everything I'm not made me everything I am."

If It Looks & Walks Like A Duck...

This saying has always scared me. Pretty silly, right? Take a peek from my eyes. I grew up in the same neighborhood in which my father lived (most of the time). The people I idolized most, the hood drug dealers, often told me about the similarities between my father and me. Let me clear up the comment regarding who I idolized. Drug dealers, at least in the 80's, appeared to be respected (or feared, which equates to hood respect) by everyone through the eyes of a child. Think about it. Drug users respected, or acted as if they did, the suppliers of their poison. Law abiding citizens often feared drug dealers because of their apparent disregard for authority and human life in general. Young children and immature adults often idolized drug dealers because of the glamor, glitz, and chicks with tight clothes that almost always accompanied these characters. Now do you understand what I meant? Oh well, I get it. So, back to why the "Duck" saying always scared me. I often heard "You look just like your father", "That is the way your daddy walks", and unfortunately "Keep this up and you'll end up just like your father." It was easy to ignore the first fifty times I heard any of those comments. However, I reached a point that made me question whether these people were right. As the saying goes...If It Looks & Walks Like A Duck...

I spent much of my adolescent years planning how I could be everything my father wasn't. I decided at the age of 15 that I didn't want children. There was no way I wanted to chance having a child of mine feel what I was feeling. That quote stayed in my head though. How would you act if you thought, even if just for a moment, you would become one of the two people you hated? What if you actually thought it was inevitable? Well, I now better understand the role I play in my destiny. Whew!

We Never Trip Over Mountains...

We never trip over mountains, only pebbles. Think about this for a second. We never trip over mountains, only pebbles. This phrase has helped me concur so many obstacles and manage several failures. I once had an issue admitting my failures. With maturity I learned that growth requires one to take risks…calculated risks. Failure is sometime the result of these risks. The response one has to failure is what I think builds character and defines who a person really is. Not until I understood this did I realize how powerful the aforementioned phrase can be. If you’re lucky, this phrase will impact you.

I can honestly say that I have accomplished several goals in my life. Some of these goals were to satisfy other people, or at least I convinced myself that was the case. I have often used people’s doubt in my ability or negative comments regarding my goals as motivation. In fact, for me this made the reward so much sweeter.

I recently experienced a set-back. A substantial delay in me achieving more of my goals is the result of this set-back. Immediately placing a positive spin on how I should view this occurrence was extremely difficult. Then I remembered, “We never trip over mountains, only pebbles.” Remembering this phrase forced me to remember that some issues occur, albeit annoying, when pursuing great things. A special someone often reminds me that “To whom much is given, much is expected.” So, here I am. The situation has occurred and the only chapter not yet written is the next one. I have a choice on how to best approach this. I could choose to sit on a soap box…you know, talk about how nothing ever goes my way. I could also use this as the reason to give up on all of my dreams (at least temporarily). Or I could take a moment to evaluate the mistakes made or the circumstances that lead the set-back. I’ll choose that one. Stay tuned!

Am I My Brother's Keeper

Like most little brothers, I grew up idolizing my big Bro. I wanted to be as quick, cute, strong, and charismatic as he was. I wanted to attract females that were as pretty as his girlfriends. In fact, I began loving the Lakers only because he loved Magic and Kareem. Because I was his little brother, I could walk through my neighborhood knowing I would not be touched. This excluded his friends that believed the dumb ass notion that they could beat me up to make me tougher in the future. But for everyone else...hands off Baby Bro! Oh yeah, that dumb ass notion may have proven to be true.


The story sounds sweet so far, doesn't it? One would think its all good, right? Unfortunately for me, things changed pretty quickly at this point. Life as I knew it, for the entire ten years of my life, changed drastically. My brother left me. He moved three states away. I hated him for that. How could my mom allow this? Why didn't grandma stop this from happening? Why wasn't my opinion asked? It wasn't until many years later that I finally understood sometimes a young unprepared mother and an angry confused son is a recipe for disaster. I get it. I actually do understand. But still...that wasn't fair to me. I was at a funny age. A preteen in Jamaica Queens when crack was at its peak. Who would I learn the code of the streets from? Like many other black boys in my neighborhood, a big brother was the closest substitute for the commonly absent father. Damn, I started out with a father and big brother...what happened? Why did both of them leave me?


Fast forward to my High School years. I'm sure you've heard the saying "it will get worse before it gets better." No truer words were ever spoken (or written). Not only was my brother six hours away now, but then he decides to join the military. WTF! How could this happen? When I heard this news I immediately thought of Furious Styles telling Tre (Boyz In The Hood) that the "army ain't no place for a black man." As he was preparing to leave for the Gulf War, I was preparing for more senseless trouble here in New York. I now know I was simply angry, confused, and hurt. Tupac had become my idol. Negativity filled the void left by my brother. I started repeating F*&k the world at every opportunity, and I actually meant it. This is when I needed a big brother the most. Mischief and meaningless trouble began consuming much of my time.


Fast forward to his return. Yes, he's back. Several years later, but he's back. This is great, isn't it? Well, lets see. I've already had my first few fights. I've already "touched" my first girl. Damn, I even already experienced escaping the long arm of the law. I don't know what I need my big brother for now. He hasn't been around enough to teach me how to get over on mom and the other stuff I learned by trial and error. In fact, I found myself telling him how to keep mom off of his back. As he attempted to acclimate to the real world again and began his job search, I was in a position to offer some financial assistance. Having been forced to mature quickly, I understood then how difficult it must have been to accept anything from a little brother and more important, his one time biggest fan.


Fast forward to recent years. To avoid tears, not yours but mine, I'll keep this section's summary brief. My brother made me an uncle by having three children. My relationship with his children has brought us closer and been the root of some tough battles. I've often felt that my brother and I each felt, at different times, we were our brother's keeper. During this one sided post, I didn't mention the time I got jumped by some dudes and my brother arrived prepared to make sure they never ever jumped anyone again. I also neglected to mention his willingness to take a charge for me in an attempt to keep me out of "the system". Oh yeah, I also forgot to mention the time his gift of gab allowed me to spend some quality time with a woman I'd otherwise have no shot with.


In the past I felt the pressure involved with being my brother's keeper. I now realize why I have been. However, what I didn't realize is that in a weird way he can also say he has been my keeper. Maybe not directly, but there is very little doubt that our relationship has helped shape my personality. It is said that different people play different roles in the life of others. As the years pass so do the clouds that once blurred my vision of my past. I have yet to fully understand why our relationship has involved so many bumps and bruises (literally), but I have realized that they were necessary. I may regret admitting this to the world, but...I love you Big Bro.

A Gift & A Curse

Many people are fortunate enough to have great relationships with both sets of grandparents. Others aren't as fortunate. Some people are lucky enough to be spoiled by their grandparents. Others aren't as lucky. Few of us, yes I am including myself, are blessed to be the favorite grandchild. Maybe it is their unique ability to have us believe their world revolves around us. Maybe they make us feel so special that we create a reality that convinces us that we are their world. Whatever it is, I felt that I was the reason my grandmother opened her eyes every morning. It was great having someone that I could always count on to have my back. You know, the one voice my mother had to listen to. Yep, even when I was dead wrong. The only problem with truly believing you are the reason another person wakes up is one day at least one of you doesn't wake up. Then what? If you're anything like me and over analyze things, there are many questions left unanswered by this tragic happenstance.

On many occasions I have felt as if life threw plenty of shit in my direction. I often felt that not only did I have a bad hand, but maybe an entire deck without spades. Something was wrong. How could I always get the short end of the stick (whatever that really means)? Many years later, I view things differently. After maturing. After recognizing the benefits of being forced to handle adversity. After I no longer accepted my own excuses. After I began to get it. Who knew she had a bigger plan for me? Who knew the long road trips in which we talked about nothing until I fell asleep served a purpose? Who knew she expected me to accomplish things that she couldn't fathom? My grandma, that's who. Before my grandmother was chosen to reunite with her late husband, she helped set the path for me to be the man I've since become. I feel there are still several accomplishments not yet reached, but they will be in due time.

How much of me is her? Did I attend college an hour from her Maryland home because I had once lived there with her? Did I learn to navigate from New York to Maryland in my sleep (sometimes literally) because I had accompanied her so frequently on that same journey. Did I start buying property mainly because I always felt if she was able to do it with all of the barriers that were present, I had no legitimate excuses not to do the same. Over a decade has passed since I lost my grandmother and I am still learning about our relationship. One thing I learned quickly after she passed is that I really miss her. Maybe I'm nuts, but I honestly believe she misses me as much.

So, being the favorite has plenty of perks. I had my favorite meal prepared anytime I wanted. Unless Murder She Wrote , 60 Minutes, or Matlock were on, I was able to control the remote (okay...we didn't have a remote but you get the picture). Being the favorite also comes with plenty of pressure. I often felt the need to meet her expectations. Even when Alzheimer's entered the picture and she may not have remembered the expectations she set for me. In some ways the pressure has progressively increased because she is no longer physically with me. I recognize my growth and maturity. Because of this, I feel the bar to please her is that much higher. Maybe this is all my weird way of looking at things. Maybe I need excuses to pursue goals. Maybe I am just a bit confused because love often clouds our vision.

Whether you're the favorite or not, cherish time spent with those you love. The one thing you lose and can never find is time. Although I have no regrets regarding the time spent with my grandmother, I do regret not having more of it. In my opinion, the worst thing about being the favorite is I often think I hurt the most.

She Dumped Me

Okay, so I am about to show my vulnerable side. As the title suggests, I am writing about being dumped. Nobody enjoys being dumped. Being dumped hurts and often forces one to ask themselves several questions that can not immediately be answered. Well, I am currently asking many questions that I haven't been able to answer. Unfortunately for me, she dumped me. Why? Was it something I did? Did I say the wrong thing? Was I too hard on her? Are we growing apart? Will there be an even stronger bond when we get through this? I DON'T KNOW. I NEED ANSWERS.

Our relationship started off on the rocky side. It may be an understatement to say I didn't think I had a chance to get on her good side. Many years ago her mood would change for the worse as soon as I would get close. In fact, one time I got too close and she scratched my face. She actually scarred me. The scar lasted about three years. That was approximately ten years ago. The funny thing is shortly after that our relationship started to drastically improve. We began seeing each other more often. I was no longer away at college and had the time to foster a quality relationship. I began to take her out more often. We quickly reached a point we both looked forward to our time together. Me and my beautiful niece. It was great, she reminded me of me. She possessed so many of my habits and characteristics. I actually started to develop some of her habits. My closest friends know my niece taught me how to roll my eyes (don't judge me). Many thought we were a perfect pair. I called her my Princess. And yes, she often acted like one. The two of us were close to inseparable.

Fast forward to preteen years. This is the beginning of the sassy period. The start of body development. The confusing years that include changes...yeah, those changes. Some how things went from me getting two calls a day to not having my calls returned. Why did things change? Was it my increased role regarding the importance of school? Is it because I started discussing different career paths with a twelve year old that clearly couldn't care less? Is it because her favorite uncle became her most strict disciplinarian? Maybe, just maybe it is a necessary stage she has to go through. I went through a rough patch with my older niece when she was close to that age. That rough patch lasted approximately three years. Will I have to wait that long this time around?

Trust me...I'm trying to show patience. This ish hurts! My Princess acts like she doesn't want anything to do with me. Unfortunately for me, she doesn't view my wallet as an extension of me. I call her Princess and she calls me Uncle can I have. Being the bigger person here should be easy, right? She is the preteen drama queen, right? So why am I the one losing sleep? Why am I getting glossy eyed thinking about my Princess. Damn, getting dumped hurts. It hurts even when you know, or at least pray, it is only a temporary break.