The Truth Hurts

What do you do when you create a lie to hide the truth and sometimes that lie hurts more than the truth you're attempting to ignore? What are your options when you start believing your lie? Even worse, what happens when you no longer recognize that it was once a lie? Unfortunately, for more than half of my life I have only considered five of my relatives to be my family (at various times this number went to three). In a recent post, I Have Two Purebreds, but..., I admitted that all of my girlfriends worth mentioning have close knit families. I can now confess that I have always envied those that looked forward to family reunions, holidays, and family functions primarily because it was another chance to see family. In fact, I have often been accepted as family at these events by the families of close friends. Although true friendship is invaluable, there should be no bond stronger than that of family. Yeah, that shit sounds good...but that wasn't my reality.

As is often the case, a recent tragedy reminded me the importance of seizing opportunity. It also showed me that a united family can, at the very least, make difficult challenges possible to overcome. I'm currently no where near thinking I am part of a united family, but I can say my family has it's united groups. This isn't all bad. This shows me unlimited possibilities...all in due time. Will my family ever mimic the Cosby's or the Wayans'? Probably not, but I'm currently willing to accept any improvement from the current situation.

It took the death of a relative, sympathy for a loved one, and my discomfort with the aforementioned loved one traveling on the road for at least twelve hours in one day for me to see some relatives that I hadn't seen (or thought of) in a decade. Even after that, it took me seeing several people in pain and an unforeseeable breakthrough, which initially looked like a breakdown, for me to get to the point of wanting some change.

The truth hurts. These words have been said together many times. I chose the title of this post because I may have finally realized that I need a better sense of family to ever attain the level of success that I truly feel is in my destiny. If you know me, you know that hurts. Being a sociable loner isn't going to work forever.

Take Your Time & Hurry Up

I'm not sure exactly when this happened. I do know conversations are now different. Sometime conversations are really different. I grew up in a community that experienced many teen pregnancies. The good girls waited...you know...until they were 21 or 22. When I would discuss my social status, future family plans, and general life goals with people I often received a pleasantly surprised look on the face of others when I shared that I didn't have children. I recognized this shortly after graduating college. In fact, this scenario repeated itself hundreds of times. However, something has changed. That look, the pleasantly surprised one, is different now. That look has turned into some other look. A look I didn't immediately recognize. It is still a look that represents shock, but now I think it morphed to confusion and disbelief. That same look you've probably displayed when you see a 10 with a 5 (you all know what I'm typing about). The look prompting conversation I'm referring to occurs during the conversation asking if I have children. In the past, my "NO" response would be followed with "Oh, really? That's good. You should wait." It is now followed by "Ah, really? Hmm. Why? Well, you do want children, right?" This is when the look takes place.

When did it become weird to wait until one has settled into a manageable situation to have a child? Why is it not normal for newly weds to take some time getting to know each other as spouses before starting a family? Why do I now feel the need to explain why I don't have children? I have only seen four of the seven continents. I have only left the U.S. nine or ten times in my life. If I want any, I know I'm not ready now. I still need to check a few activities off of my "PreDaddy Days" list. If I don't want any, is that really that strange?

I Have Two Purebreds, but...

So, today I had a thirty minute conversation with a total stranger about our dogs. He had a female Red Nose Pit Bull. I was with my two dogs. Nearly an hour after the conversation with this stranger ended, I realized how much the both of us know about our pets. However, the conversation also showed me how little I know about my ancestry. I can tell anyone who wants to listen about at least four generations from my dogs pedigree. Unfortunately for me, I don't know nearly as much about my family tree. Family has always been a touchy subject for me. Those of you that follow my blog (or know me) may know the two - three strong relationships I have with relatives.
I recently realized that I often date women that have close knit families. Maybe I want my view of the perfect family so bad I am willing to get it from another person's family. Maybe I've given up on achieving that level of trust and comfort from my own family. Either way, it is very scary for me to accept. I wonder if my disinterest in researching my family tree stems from the poor relationships I have with the relatives I can see and touch now. Maybe I fear the possibility that I will find something that will cause me to further question who I am. So, what do I do now? Admitting an issue is the first step, right? Should I attempt to repair some of the sour relationships I currently have with family members? Should I start aggressively researching my family's past. I may keep you posted on some of these answers.

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.