My Dad is an African American, born in the 1940s. He and his family were poor and lived on a farm. They would grow and pick everything from cotton to corn and work from sun up to sun down. It was a lot of hard work but it taught my father so many things. Discipline was his middle name. During this time, even though as a kid he wanted to do things that kids do, he had to work to live, to survive, to breathe. It was unlawful for him and many others that looked like him to attend certain places because of segregation and racism infiltrated into the laws of that time. Church and school were places that education and freedom could coexist for little brown bits and girls. My Dad would tell us he was never book smart, but he loved to work with his hands. He would tear things apart only to rebuild. He would continue to do this until he helped build his first house at the age of 17. From that point, his hands were his saving grace. He then began the journey as a carpenter and electrician, building houses for many in and out of the community. Whenever there was something to be fixed, my Dad was that guy. Then there was the call. The call to serve in the United States Army. He was called to serve in the scariest and uncertain of times. My father answered the call. He became a United States soldier and fought in the Vietnam War. He served his country proudly. He would always tell his girls, I don’t ever want you to join the military. My older sister is a hot head and of course she grew up and joined. Back to ny Dad, he fought for his country and was awarded a purple Medal of Honor for his bravery. When we would ask questions about what it was like over there, he would tell us about meeting Bob Hope when he was in the hospital and how he had plenty of rice. He would deliver the mail on the bases over there. He would share what it was like to jump out of a plane. He would tell us how important it was for us to learn a skill and use our hands along with getting an education. As I look outside and see my father in his garden, I smile because he was right. The wisdom he shared I will never forget.
Sons should “look again at” their fathers. This is the etymology of respect, as my dad helped me explain to my soccer coach.
So today, I was sitting at my desk in my room watching Hawaii five-0, my daughter on the computer in the living room watching YouTube videos on Minecraft. I am not sure what it was but out of nowhere I had this sudden urge to go and cuddle my daughter. So, we cuddled under a blanket and watched Casper. Then when that was done we watched Joseph, King of dreams.
June 14, 1988, I was born weighing six pounds and fourteen ounces. I was my mother's second child and now I am one of eight children. She will tell you today that I am most certainly her most stubborn one, truly living up to all the tales of red-headed girls with freckles. I was also the child that became an adult before I was ready. Being outnumbered, my parents needed help especially mom. Daddy had to work a lot to provide food and shelter. My parents would say my intelligence could speak volumes of the places I could soar just as long as I spread my wings.
All parents should take a class in Love and Logic. It provides basic, easily implemented skills to stop a child dead in their tracks, especially teens. My husband and I are both educators; we enrolled and attended a week-long training and walked away with the necessary skills we needed to torment any teen. As we practiced them with our daughter at home, we knew they were working when she raised her voice to rant, "I hate it when you take those classes!" and proceeded to stomp out of the room.
Where would we be without our mothers . I know I feel lost many times a day without Mine . Mum passed away mid 2019 from dementia related causes . But that was after she had lived a life so well that when she had no more to give she slowly retired into herself because I think she had already left us in her mind.
It was the summer before first grade, in a deserted, hot parking lot. That parking lot just so happened to be my school’s, River Springs Elementary. I had just learned to ride a bike without training wheels the day before and I was actually pretty good at it for learning the day before.
This method was de facto born given the context of the recently discovered bacteria. It, thus, argued that this was to downplay body contacts that might have, in all likelihood, transmitted diseases to children. Not until recently has this sparked controversy, since leaving children crying it out might breed negative psychological effects and later health impairments.
Where do I start? Let me say that my dad is always there for me. Whether in good times or in bad times. He is even there for me when I need help. From playing choo-choo train to my room and tucking me in my bed at night and keeping the boogieman away so that I could sleep, to going with me to my competitions. He was my cheerleader. He always showed me love and support. Helped me with homework when I didn't understand it.
The part that no one can tell you how you’re supposed to feel, what you’re supposed to do. What the right thing to do is. What you need to do.