Made in my Father's image

barackobama:

Andy:

As a young parent whose child will be attending public school for the next decade, I am going to vote for someone who knows public education is important for our communities and our country. Private education is great for those who can afford it, but it doesn’t give conservatives the right to dismantle our school systems.

KAΨ Spr. 2012 coming to a probate near you

This little kid is about to get baptised in the barber’s chair, into the world of haircuts. He’s crying for mercy like, “Why me Lord!?” His dad comforts him as he holds his son in his lap. Dad knows what getting a haircut is all about. He’s been there, done that. The older brother has just gotten out of the chair. He’s had a few cuts himself. Dad tells Little Brother to look at Big Brother as if to say, “I protected him. He’s okay. Look at him.” Dad consoles him, wipes his tears and leans back into the chair. He doesn’t baby or coddle him. His son must endure on his own. Dad can’t intercede in this instance. Dad knows that and rests assured. Little Brother calms down, yet sheds a few more tears. The haircut begins.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” says Dad to himself. Little Brother is relaxed and now knows that there was nothing to fear. He’s learning to trust his father. It’s a beautiful thing.

Kinda reminds me of Israel, God’s people delivered from Egypt. God said he would take care of them, and He did. The Israelites had nothing to fear to begin with, but they did not have the faith of a child to trust and believe in God’s word. They cried, and cried, even after God wiped their tears.

Because God so loved his people, he created rubbing alcohol AND Witch Hazel.

That’s deep huh?

Effective communication. Communicating ideas intellectually, as opposed to emotionally. I’ve gotta have it. You may be able to do without it. I’ve gotta have it.

Life’s a game. If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that, then I would be doing something exponentially more entertaining than typing this ramble via iPhone, but I digress. To make that idea a little more real though, I posit that life is a series of games, each with its own rules. Some games are as simple as…well I can’t readily come up with a game that is simple. Playing may not require much, but actually winning is a horse of a different color, but I digress again…

Most establishments demand that you play by the rules of the game in order to even be a part of the group. Want to be a rapper? You’ve gotta fit the mold, or at least that’s what people say. You’ve gotta have a gimmick, be up on your hip-hop history, and have something to say (notice that I did not say that you have to know how to rap, that’s a different discussion). Want to be a writer? You have to have read quite a bit and know an extensive amount about the history of the craft for anyone to take you seriously. One must play by the rules in order to succeed. YouTube videos have never won a Grammy. A lil guy with hoop dreams could never be in the NBA if he can’t fathom the concept of teamwork, even if he has handles like Hot Sauce. Know the rules, then play the game to win, right?

I ask because I’m not quite so sure (you’re still reading so I assume that you aren’t either). Once upon a time, I was playing b-ball with my dad, uncle, and cousin. My dad and I were on teams and we were losing (I should add that I was a little chubby kid with no b-ball skill whatsoever. I was not blessed with that gift). After a while, to save myself the humiliation of losing, I began to make shots and passes with absolutely no concern for whether or not they hit the intended target. I completely withdrew my desire to win cause I “knew” I wouldn’t anyway. My Dad, a fiercely competive Bolden man, told me in the middle of the game that if I wasn’t going to play to win, then I should not play at all. Me, being the independent thinker that I was, opted to walk to the sideline and not participate. I knew that I wasn’t good at basketball and that I had no intentions of developing any skills. To this day, I still don’t care much for the sport.

So, what’s the moral of that story? I later became a third degree Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do. If you simply can’t compete within the confines of established rules, then you have two options: change games, or create new rules for the one you’re playing. My lack of ability in one arena motivated my success in another.

“Well, duh,” you might say. Okay, cool, I can accept that. If that was your response, then you aren’t my intended audience. I’m talking to the girl that is still heartbroken about being dumped by the guy of her dreams. Okay, so he’s gone. What’s to stop you from attracting someone better? I’m talking to the guy who can’t find a job in his field. What’s to stop you from taking your expertise in computers and applying it to the field of education? I’m talking to the mother whose son doesn’t respond well to hollering and screaming. What’s stopping you from changing the rules and approaching the situation from a different perspective?

Just my thoughts.

I saw Martin Luther King in the White House making negotiations with politicians not long after I saw him killed in a gunfight. I saw him sit in a jail cell alongside a white man and convert him into a follower. I saw that same man change a nation from the hills and mole hills of Mississippi though song. I saw it with my own two eyes.

Im sitting here, watching the Pro Bowl and I can’t help but think back to my high school glory days of playing 5A football. I remember every “big play” ball that I dropped and every yard that I let get away from me. That, my friend, is what you call regret. Those moments that you would love to fix in your past if you were ever given the opportunity. There’s still a silver lining in the cloud of regret though. I’ll never get the opportunity to play high school football again, but should I ever have a son who chooses to play on someone’s football team- PAUSE

Okay, I WAS watching the Pro Bowl game and enjoying the nostalgia of the circumstances (me sitting here watching, reminiscing, and writing) and my coworker decides to change the channel…………..Take a second and imagine the tingle in my body; the impulse to say, “Dude, WTF?!” Ever been so mad that the inside of your nose burns a little? So mad that your eyes become a little teary? I was there for just a second then my anger subsided to rationale.

What’s the best course of action? Do I let it ride like the last few weekends that I’ve worked with him, knowing that he’ll be leaving shortly and I’ll be here alone with the remote and tv at my disposal? Or do I convince him to change the channel back?

Nope, can’t let it ride this week. I want to watch the Pro Bowl, and that’s what we’re going to do.

“What happened to the Pro Bowl mane?!” He then told me why he changed the channel, but politely turned back. Cool. I’m satisfied. He may not be, but he gets to go home at ten and I’m here for the long haul. I’m learning to pick and choose my battles and yes, this one may seem trivial right up until you learn that I’ll probably be at work….on Super Bowl Sunday. I need all the football that I can get. Call it a consolation prize. Hell, call it whatever you want to, but that’s one play that I won’t regret.