Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Mr. CHICKEN LITTLE SAID, "The Sky Was Falling Down on May 21st, 2011"




Now, I wouldn't win a game of Jeopardy if the subject was the Bible, but I know a jack leg when I see one. And they say there's a sucker born every day.

So now I'm sitting here thinking, what kind of educated fool or babies daddies momma, would follow a man that said the sky was falling down? I know Duckey Wuckey and Loosey Goosey beleived that mess, but as the story goes, their heads were pulled off by the slick and sly Foxy Loxy. Yep, they were hanging on the wrong ass. But what puzzles me the most is that some black folks fell for the Okie Doke.

For instance, my sister in law called and told me that she loved me and started making all kinds of amends. Now I'm thinking, what does she want now. See, we've never been thick as thieves, so I immediately knew something wasn't right. She went on to tell me about this end of the world thang, which caught me waaaay off guard.

Anyway, as she continued to tell me how she was going to miss me and how much she loved me. I stopped her in mid sentence and told her that I was going to miss her too, but before she went to see her maker could she please send me all the money she owes me, since she wouldn't be needing it - in heaven.

Shiiit, she was drop dead serious and I was too, I need my money. I mean, I ain't trying to tell all my business, but if the train comes right now, I ain't going to heaven - not today - so I might have to buy my way out of hell.

But listen, black folks should know that Ol' Mr. Charlie has been bamboozling us for four centuries, and apparently, he has done a pretty good job, and he's still up to his old tricks.



But wait a minute, if I am not mistaken, didn't the Bible say something about no one knows the day or hour... "concerning that day and hour, no one knows --- neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son --- except the Father only", and his body was like beryl, and his arms and his feet like colour to polished brass. Good googa moogum, this new son of lords, spreading his new Revelations, is an old wrinkled white man with loads of money. That doesn't sound like a man that was born in a manger, who wore dusty sandals.

Come on now, I ain't the smartest man, and I ain't Moses, but I wouldn't follow that man to a dog fight. Seriously, what special kind of fool or wayward huckleberry, would sell all their earthly possessions, stop playing the lottery, and run outside butt naked, waiting for that train to Jordan?

Hey, my sister-in-law hasn't called today, so who knows, maybe she did get swooped up by the mothership. I wonder if Bootsy Collins is on there? Damn, I wish she would have sent me my money. I wonder if I can call her long distance and ask her if she left my loot in a cookie jar, or if it's in the mail?

Nevertheless, the fat lady has not sang - it's 10 am, and God might be on "CP" time - so maybe I have enough time to get a little more of my groove on. I mean, my 2 brothers, my son and my sister are coming over to watch the game tonight, so I gotta be standing strong to met them at my door. And beside the fact that I am frying catfish, whole and fillet, with spaghetti on the side, and my lady made a lemon cake, one of my brothers and my sister don't get along one bit. And my other brother has been known to drink a little too much, so I gotta be around to cook the food, breakup a possible fight between my oldest brother and my baby sister, and the drunk that might step in to rescue her.

Oh happy day, what a night it's gonna be. Well, that is, if my fire and brimstone does not get here before 6:00PM cp time.

Monday, June 13, 2011

It Looks Like Another Love TKO: Sometimes ya gotta let it go. Pain!


LOVE & PAIN! What are they good for?

I know what Teddy said " I think I better let it go"...

The most dominate factors to my growth have come via my journey through love and pain. Those rewards did not come from the love of others. It was more about my ability to recover the love -- I lost -- for myself.

This post was inspired by:

Kit, http://keepittrill.blogspot.com/
A Smith, http://blackdiamond2008.blogspot.com/
Mizrepresents http://readingwritingblogging.blogspot.com/
Ms. Ann @ The Old Black Church http://theoldblackchurch.blogspot.com/

I love love love personal blogs. I view my blog as personal, but what do I have in common with the above women, and what do they have in common with each other? Well, they all have either lost a loved one, or are in the process of losing one, or has written about the pain of supporting a loved one and letting them go. To some degree, I think everyone has been there.

My father never had to cut the cord from me. He didn't see my deepest struggles. He passed away at an early age.

Some of my greatest memories are the times I spent with my father. I loved to watch him play softball. Those were different days, they were slower times. Drug abuse and fatherless children were not the prevalent topics of discussion. I can remember going to far off places with my father and his softball team. Well, we lived in Illinois, and what seemed like a distant land was nothing more than a small town or a corn field on the other side of the Mississippi River. But to me, it was a place of wonderment. Just as in the movie "The Field Of Dreams" the farmers built it and we played in it. Actually, I went to shag foul balls. Since the ball diamonds were carved out of corn fields or near a corn field, a foul ball or a home run that landed in the corn was worth 5 cents to the luckiest or fastest kid that retrieved the wayward Spalding. I was pretty fast and didn't mind getting scratched by the corn stalks.

After returning home, I shared my bounty with my brothers. Sometimes it would be as much as 1 dollar. A paltry sum by todays standards, but a kings ransom back then. The neighborhood movie cost twenty two cents. A fresh hot bag of popcorn could be had for a nickel, likewise for a small pop. Those were the days, 3 raggety black kids enjoying a day at the movies. I remember the joy on my fathers face. He was proud of me and my brothers, and pleased that we had a great time together.

My father was a man's man. In his last days I had to carry him to the bath room. He was to weak to walk the distance and to proud to take care of his business in his bed. I remember the look on his face - he couldn't do for himself. I still remember my loss for words. He didn't have to bare the pain of seeing me down, yet, I felt the pain of losing him. Although I no longer wear that pain, I remember what I had to go through to put it in it's proper place.

My mother saw me on the ground. She saw the depths of my struggles. I'll get back to her.

Kit, over at Keep it Thrill (above), has shared some of her recent struggles with her son. With the conviction and courage of a lion, she has shared her pain of a mother holding on to a son, who seems to be lost in a storm. She has documented that journey, which at times, has been very disturbing.

Many bloggers have gathered at her blog with words of encouragement and inspiration. One such blogger, A Smith (above), went there to share her story. She told of her lover that was struggling with drug abuse. Her lovers mother told her to run away from her son. It was her opinion that her son would drag A Smith to the ground. Even though Ms. Smith loved this man, she finally realize she had to let him go. She told him she couldn't do it anymore. They broke up and a few months later, her lover committed suicide.

A Smith dropped by Kit's blog to share a little compassion, empathy, and wisdom, on the process of going through. She said, although the ending to her story was not how she would have planned it, and was not without pain, she now believes the thought of letting go was much more painful than being on the other side. She confided that she still misses her guy, but the healing process began when she made the decision to cut the cord. Now there's a possibility for solutions, if only for herself.

How does a mother let go?

I am not a mother so I can't answer that question, but I know how my mother forced me to swim or die. She simply told me she had given it to God, and she was done. She couldn't do it any more.

After my biggest fall, my friends and family told me they had never seen my mother as low as those days of my turmoil. They said she was dying inside. While in my struggle, her feeling and emotions were never at the forefront of my mind. I was a selfish fool. So, in retrospect, it was only fitting that she left me to my own demise. I am grateful that she cut the cord. She told me that my burial was paid and I had to sink or swim. Oh lord, did I sink, but I didn't drown. My gratefulness extends beyoud my obvious rewards, but moreso to the fact that my mother found the courage to release herself from my pain. There's an old school songs that goes... "when something is wrong with my baby, something is wrong with me".

I included Mizrepresents and Ann (above) in this post because both of them have shared their journeys with me. I don't know if they've given any details of their lives so I will refrain from doing so in this post. However, through our common struggles, we've exchanged words of wisdom and words of encouragement. They may not know it, but their words have inspired me to continue to write and to continue to share in a courageous and honest way. I visit their blogs. Other people may not know it, but I know they cry... sometimes.

Maybe one day we will all sit down at the same table and have one big cry. Men do cry, and sometimes, tears come from joy, and hope, and the realization that it's gonna be alright in the morning.

Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down
Oh, yes, Lord
Sometimes I’m almost to de groun’
Oh, yes, Lord

If you get there before I do
Oh, yes, Lord
Tell all-a my friends I’m coming too
Oh, yes, Lord

Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen
Nobody knows de trouble but Jesus
Nobody knows de trouble I’ve seen
Glory Hallelujah!

Sunday, June 12, 2011

YOU CAN'T TURN A HO INTO A HOUSEWIFE - That's what they say

I threw away all my prophylactics and candy panties, but I've been turned out. Mizrepresents and PPRscribe pimped me. They promised me a cabin in the sky and a Cadillac with a sun roof top, but they only gave me a Jones, a habit, an addiction. They didn't tell me Heroin had nothing on blogging. I've cooked dinner and cleaned my house but I remain a whore.

I woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. I staggered to my refrigerator and poured myself a cool drink. I felt someone standing near, it was another john, it was another hit, it was my computer. Like a warm syringe filled with a speed-ball, it winked at me, it blinked at me . I rushed outside and hollered at the moon.

There was no place to hide. I knew I needed to get outside myself. I went for a walk. The warmth of the day felt wonderful, but as I glanced up to take a peek at the sun, a pigeon pooped in my eye. I said, "where the hell did that pigeon come from" . I looked to my left and there was a library. It was the pigeon's home and it was calling my name. I found myself peering through the glass windows, looking at the books inside. Like a drunk waiting for the opening of the corner liquor store, my hands started to shake when my eyes spotted a row of computers.

I go to the place where the feeling awaits me, self destruction's in my hands, oh lord, so stupid minded, help me, I can't help myself. But I'm going crazy, I can't fight it. I am hooked my friends, to that boy who makes slaves out of men.

That boy called Blogging is a mean thang. Oh believe me, help me somebody! I have to withdrawal from this opiate. It's using me like I am a 2dollar ho, and not kissing me in the morning. I have never been a housewife but I am tired of being pimped.  Somebody help me.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

NOBODY - NOBODY DOES IT BETTER.

No words needed, just listen. I can just shake my head and say DAMN!






I Wouldn't Pick A Choir Boy To Lead Me Out Of My Storms.

A Choir Boy Can’t Lead Me Out Of My Storm!


If I lived on an island, I wouldn't concern myself with the opines of others.  If I lived on an island, all by myself, I could name my own streets and point them in the “right” direction. I wouldn't have to live in a cabin in the sky, if I lived on an island.

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, the world is less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

It tolls for thee, it tolls for me. Yet, at times, I do live on an island. However, when I go home to my island, I soon hear the voices of the mainland. It's a mean game I play, playing around in my mind. My mind is my castle, my domain and my sanctuary, why do I pass the keys to strange gatekeepers? What are those people, places and things doing for me and to me?

If I didn't look on the other side of the fence, would I come to the conclusion that my grass wasn't as green as "that" grass? More importantly, would I worry about the color of my grass, if I lived on an island, all by myself? But I do live on an island, sometimes. When I go home to my island, a place of comfort in which I live alone, why do I harbor the putrid flavors of the mainland, those other folks, who many, I do not respect?

Not a single soul has walked on my island. No one has walked in my shoes. Who can I ask for help?

A choir boy may be the quintessential image of a pure soul, but can he help me when my storms visit my island? He doesn't have a road map of my island. He has never walked on these street, in these shoes. How could he lead me through the back roads of my mind? He's never been there? He couldn't have ventured my way because this is my island and no one has ever been “here“.

I know another storm is coming, that's inevitable. Should I lock my doors, close my shutters and turn off my mind?

I am left to wonder which way should I go? Should I go that way, his way, her way or their way or let my conscience be my guide? Should I listen to those that have arrived? But, who are they? Or should I listen to those that are going though their storms, and those who have walked on an island that’s very similar to mine?

Is Love Gone?

Is Love Gone

Within the shadows of your smile, I too have memories.
Good memories
You sheltered me
You covered me
You are my rock.
I too have tears
A home is in the heart
You shut the door
Yesterday, how many yesterdays?
I cry for yesterday.
I too think of tomorrow
Is love like yesterday?
Is it gone forever
Or just out of season.
After the cold of winter,
Can it spring back?
Shattered dreams, yet I dream
A flicker of hope
I miss you
You've been gone
Will you come back?

By Carey

Friday, June 10, 2011

BIG MAC ATTACK, THE ACTOR AND ME: Who’s That Knocking At My Door?


If I said, “pop goes the weasel” who would know what black movie that came from? Jug would know. What if I said the “Serenity Prayer“, would you know the words to that? BigMacInPittsburg would. What if you saw us all walking down the street, what would you say? Well, personally, from my perspective, I’d say here comes a whole lot of wisdom.

Here we go again, another edition of Who’s That Knock Knock Knock At My Door?

When I last opened my door, Shellie was standing there, dropping all my family secrets, and Hazeleyes preceded her. 25Champ left a note on the door and the Old Black Church (Ms. jjBrock) said, AMEN. Keith, of “Keith’s Space” beat them all to the punch. And now we have Mr. Jug and BigMac. Oh what a tangled web we weave.

Let me start by saying birds of a feather flock together and I don’t suffer fools lightly.

“Okay Carey, tell us, what does that mean to me and you?”

Well, let me go back a few years. One time my daughter found herself in a little trouble at her school and one of the school’s counselors said she was hanging with the wrong crowd. Well, at that time, what the counselor obviously didn’t know was that she was the wrong crowd. I knew it, but he didn’t. She’s know a beautiful mother and a well adjusted young lady. But again, at that time, only a few knew that she could be a fool.

And for those that may not know it, or have never read it, here, in my blog, I’ve been one of the biggest fools on earth. Are you kidding me, who, but a fool robs banks? Come on now, I could list a barrage of my foolish antics which could possibly find my face in the dictionary, under the word - FOOL What? You don’t believe me? What would you call a person who at the age of 18 was strung-out on a major addictive drug? Well, my hand is still raised. But not today. My motto is, What About a Time Called Now?

I said the above to suggest that I recognize fools, and try my best to stay away from them. I mean, as I said, I’ve been a full time fool and that person still rests inside me, dormant right now, but I don’t wish to engage him. You know, if you talk to a fool long enough, there will soon be 2 fools talking. So I’ve made it my business to keep a keen eye, a deep side-eye, out for fools, and their foolish ways. I can do bad all by myself.

Now, I am sure everyone has heard the phrase “Two heads are better than one” - right? Well, what about 3 heads? Would they be better than one? I think so... well... it would depend on whose heads we’re talking about. Here comes Jug and Big Mac.

Listen, these 2 men could men walk with me anywhere. I mean, I am nobody, but I can choose the company I keep, and these 2 guys have showed me their hands. And you know what, I am not a drive-by kind of commenter and neither is Jug. That man will post a book up in your blog and call it a comment. But I like that in him. See, although many of us post under anonymous monikers, I still like to know a little something about the person I am responding to. You know, if I have a little insight into their life, mindset or background, I can assess rather or not I should spend my time replying to them. You know, some folks are on nothing but mess and negativity, which finds them acting a goddamn fool up in your house, and then expects everyone else to act in kind. NO NO, they can miss me with that one. So, over the last year or so, Jug and I have found ourselves on the blog floor, a dance floor, doing what we do best, running our mouths. And let me tell y’all something, that boy has great writing skills. If he’d let me, I’d steal his and give him mine. Well... sometimes.

Now check this, Jug is an actor. Oh yeah, he might even be Mackie or the next up and coming star, but lets look at a few of his words before I move on to Big Mac, and then come back to the actor that goes by the   name Jug. His words...

“My household wasn’t a “daily black lesson” kind of place or a “kill whitey” sort of place, but more of a Huxatable “teach through images & examples” kind of place. My Mom taught at predominantly black public schools where I’m from, and I’d help her with her classroom stuff. All of my aunts & uncles, Black, were most of the people that came to the house-or us to theirs. Sly & the Family Stone is the record & reel to reel tape I remember getting the most play when I was a kid. Along with Bill Cosby, the Last Poets & other assorted Motown greats. When it came time to go to college, I chose to go to an HBCU, even though none of them were “preached” in my house…but my mom did go to Southern & I faithfully watched the Bayou Classic every November & my older brother even went to one”

Yeah, a little background that lets me know where he is coming from (to a certain degree). Okay, I’ll let that rest while I move over to my other brother in this struggle, Mr. Big Mac from Pittsburg.

I knew Big Mac and I had an instant bond when he said he loved to take a little nip (a whole lot of nips, of his favorite liquor) and chase a little tail, booty that is. Well, slippin’ and sliddin’ in satin sheets, or at the hideaway hotel, has frequently been my pleasure. But then one day I decided I couldn’t live that life - NO MO, and Big Mac said the same thing. He found a good woman (and so did I) that said, “ I like you and we are going to do this together, but not like you’ve done it in your past”. Now Mac was no fool, he just got caught-up in foolish behavior, however, he knew a good thang when he saw one. So he told his new found love that he’s all in. They’ve been doing their thang for quite some time now, and he will be the first to say that he can’t do life without her.

So Big Mac went out to pay a little dues by working as a drug counselor. The following are some of his words....

“When I pull out my track record as a young person growing up, it's not a pretty picture.
I don't want the young people I encounter today to travel the road I did. So I feel it's my God given responsibility to give them guidance when and wherever possible. Many Men like myself aren't ready or able to take on this role of responsibility. WHY? I surmise it's one factor, laziness! Mental and physical laziness flows throughout our community. And it's not all our fault that this disease of laziness exist, we have been trained to be lazy.”

Ouuuuuweeee, that’s some good stuuf! and you know, that’s one of the things I like about Ol’ Mac Attack, he is not afraid to tell on his self. Listen, many people are too worried, in my opinion, about what others would think of them for their past indiscretions. I say bump that, I did what I did and I have to accept that, and there’s nothing anyone can do to hurt me by their opinions of me. I have to be the one to come to grips with my past behavior, process it, and then move on to a brighter day. I tell people to look behind me to see if there’s any mess back there, because I am not. Granted, some will try to remind us of what we may have left in our wake, but now I hurry to tell them... What About a Time Called Now? And I ask them “What about you? What are you doing these days, changing, growing or living in the past.

 Big Mac also shared his pain of losing someone very close to him.  His word:

"My father left his earthly life two weeks ago and it was a roller coaster ride for my family and me, it hasn't stop yet.... With me living in Pittsburgh and everyone else residing in the Washington,DC area it's a little difficult for me to do much on the phone. But what I have discovered about me during this period is an emotional side of me that is scary,scary because as a man I now realize how much I have bottled up or painted over emotionally over my life time. I haven't completely figure out all of these emotional roller coasters of mine,but I'm ready for them. I found myself crying on my way to work last week at 5am after putting in a CD of James Cleveland songs, he was one of gospel singers of my youth that I often heard around the house "

Listen, I like that, Big Mac, a man sharing his pain and his tears.  I value that type of man.

So Big Mac has paid his dues (and is still paying them) but he moved on to work in the chemical industry at Sherwin Williams. I don’t know what he does there, nor do I care. I mean, I always pause when someone tells me their "title", as if that speaks for their expertise on life’s issues, or their moral values or their critical thinking skills. I don’t really care what a person says when I first meet them, nor the positions they hold. Their walk and their true colors will come to the top - like sweat cream - when the smoke clears. Mac and I don’t always agree on every issue (who in the hell does that?) But I think he will agree that we’ll find a way to openly and honestly find a way to come to an agreeable position, even if we still disagree. You know, I can safely say many people will huff and puff and take their ball home when they don’t get their way, or when others don’t agree with them, but not Big Mac. Now, hold that thought while I let Jug back in the door.

Jud and I met at a movie blog called Shadow and Act  http://blogs.indiewire.com/shadowandact


I am a huge movie freak and Jug was over there running his mouth like he’s frequently known to do (me too). But what I liked and noticed about Jug is that if he gives his opinion, he IS going to bring facts to support it. I can't stand when a person tries to slip under the radar and/or tries to rationalize and justify their bogus opinions by saying the trite cover-up “It’s just my opinion”. Hell, what do they want us to do with “that” opinion? What, take it as a fact, pass it on to another person, listen intently like they’re talking about something we should take to the bank, or what? Then, what finds my biggest disdain is when I question the source of their “opinion”. They sometimes act as if I stole their woman and slapped their momma....  "how dare you suggest I should support my opinion with facts and/or concrete evidence, I am just speaking my mind".  Well, that's my point.  sometimes their limited source of information leads their emotions to a place that allows their mouths to run off before they think, and thinking is one of the hardest activities that man sometimes runs from.

Anyway, Jug writes these long comments because I believe has a need to make himself perfectly clear, and I like that in him. Oh, and he and I frequently piss people off because over at the “black” movie spot. Many of the voices can be heard crying about what the white man has done to us and how they are holding us back in the film industry. Jug has no problem holding up a mirror and telling the moaning crowd to take a deep look to find the source of many of our problems. He does not mind putting some people on blast. And some of y’all know I have no problem voicing my opinion on the ways of white folks and black folks. So in essence, Jug and I have found many ways to stand hand in hand. Btw, “Jug” is not his Christian name, but again, I don’t care. He could be Denzel (probably not because Denzel went to a school up North) but he could be one of the dudes on BET’s The Game or as I said, an up and coming new aspiring star, but I don’t care because that wouldn’t impress me nor move me in the least. I’ve been around every class of individuals that one could strive to be, and for the most part, they all poop, have stankin breath in the morning, have money woes, relationship concerns, mortgages and car notes to pay. So I’ve come to believe that’s it very important to me, to be around, socialize, converse with people that I share a common bond with. They may go off and do what they do, but when we get together and do what we do, I ain’t looking for no fools.

Ladies and Gentlemen and everyone else, because 3 heads are better than one, I present my blog friends Jug and the Big Mac Attack  http://bigmacinpittsburgh-jcm1021.blogspot.com/  "Why Life Is Like Living In The Forest"

I like what they do!

And I’ll be back with another installment of Who’s That Knocking At My Door? I wonder who’s next?

Monday, June 6, 2011

Thailand, Fred & Me: Who's That Knocking On My Door?

Let me start by saying I am leery of white people, okay. Now don’t take that wrong. I was raised around white people (I was born in Iowa), and I am not a racist by any stretch of imagination. Wait, does that have the same feeling/flavor/sting as a white person saying “I have black friends’? Well, all the King’s horses and all the King’s friends couldn’t put Humpty Dumpy back together again. Yeah, figure out how that relates to anything I’ve said. Nevertheless, I am gonna say it, I have white friends - not many - but I do. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce my next victim blog friend who has been knocking on my door, and he’s a white guy, Fred C.


“Carey, why did you have to tell us he’s a white guy?”


Now that’s a good question, so sit back and take a walk with me. Like the rest of my friends who have found themselves front and center of my blog, with a post written especially for them, Fred, like the others, stopped by this post "Play It Again Sambo, and Kiss Your Ass?"

http://careycarey-carrymehome.blogspot.com/2011/05/bishop-eddie-long-oh-no-whitney-play-it.html

When Fred arrived, he said the following: “(Why am I here? I'm in marriage limbo, with a view of hell, and America just got too weird and expensive for me.) With luck, the whole sordid tale will reveal itself as we go. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better”

Well, maybe Fred will get to know me a little better after I put all his business on display.

I met Fred C. over at one of my favorite political blog sites, "We Are Respectable Negroes"  http://wearerespectablenegroes.blogspot.com/. In fact, the site’s host, Chauncey DeVega is my favorite political analyst. My admiration for Chauncey is not rooted (necessarily) in our shared political views, but more so in the way in which he writes. His witticisms, humor, sentence structure and command of the English language is to die for. I could go on about Chauncey, but this is Fred’s party. So anyway, as political debates go, the lines of opposition are frequently drawn deep in the sand. Each side digs in, gets very entranced in their positions, and then, nobody budges. And my daddy told me not to be anybodies fool and don’t play another man’s game. So taking his advice, I generally do not get too involved in the tick-tack-patty-wack of politics. But sometimes I’ll listen on the sidelines and add a little commentary on the ongoing affairs.

One time the blog’s host, Chauncey, even let me do a guest post "The Birth Of A Nation" http://wearerespectablenegroes.blogspot.com/2011/05/final-guest-post-on-trump-hating-on.html. Oh yeah, I was as thrilled as a fat rat in a cheese factory. Now, in walks Fred C  of Spin Easy Time blogspot http://spineasytime.blogspot.com/.

Over the months, I had been noticing that Fred’s comments were quite different than most political debaters. His had a ring of openness and honesty that I’ve seldom seen in most political discussions, and it was obvious to me that the man had a wealth of wisdom, and an education. I asked myself, “who is this white guy that’s not afraid to call a spade a spade, and bigoted dumb white folks... bigoted, racist dumb white folks?” Now you know, and he must obviously know, that his penchant for holding up a mirror to some of our evil white brothers, could get a white man barred from the shores of America. But ol’ Fred had that covered. He packed up his stuff and moved to Thailand.

If my memory serves me well, he said he was running from a bad marriage and taxes. However, this is what he also said: “[I am] a reformed lawyer“. Uuuuuum, a reformed lawyer? Okay, Fred showed me his honesty side, cuz we all know that most lawyers are snakes that can’t be trusted as far as we can throw them, but Fred said he’s reformed. So now Fred is a law professor in Thailand ( and I‘ve been in Thailand). Oh, that reminds me, he also said the following:

"One of the things that I explain to my students in every class is that if they play their cards right they can get somewhere in this life. The secret, I tell them, is to have a good idea of where you want to get, keep your eyes on it, and take one step after the other, all in the same direction. I'm a natural born counselor, I am, I was born to give advice to other people. To myself? Not so much. [my] blog is a perfect example. Did you ever see so much meandering in your life? There's no theme, no overriding passion. I wander around a field like a bull who thinks he sees some dandelions, you know, over there. It's not a road map to anywhere in particular. It's sure not a road map to readership or getting paid. It's no surprise, this lack of focus. After all, how many people do you know who have had over fifty jobs in their lives? Probably only one: me.


So Fred isn’t fooling himself and sho ain’t trying to dress to impress, and I like that in him.

But like I said earlier, I am leery of most white folks, and I believe, to a large degree, most blacks understand why I, and we, would feel that way. So I poked around a little more to see why and how Fred was so understanding of the ways of black folks. As with my other victims guests who that found themselves at my front door, I started at his home page and then walked slowly through his jungle. Low and behold, the man wrote that he loved Bobby "Blue" Bland and The Last Poets. What... Bobby “Blue” Bland AND The last poets?!!! I didn’t think anybody knew anything about Bobby “Blue” Bland, but an old school black man like me. Now I am wondering if his “ex” is a big booty, big brown sistah? But this is what he said about The Last Poets:

“Surprisingly light list of the Last Poets on the 'Tube. Shame, really. I haven't checked, but I'm sure that there's lots of Katy Perry (nice tits but so what?), Miley Cyrus (now, really!), Rhiannon or somebody (I saw her on 'Idol, she was chunky and dull), and God knows whoever else is unaccountably popular these days. As the 'Poets said, "wake up, white people!" And everybody else, most people are asleep these days. Listen up! There's tons of great shit out there

And he didn’t know I was listening.

But listen, before I let Fred out my door, I have to add the following. Remember when I said I did a guest post at “We Are Respectable Negroes”, weeell, I didn’t get many comments/responses so I was a little disappointed and left the following comment:

I said:  “**CareyCarey is seen with his head down, a can of beer in hand. He appears to be in a large room but nobody else is around. "Oh well" he says, "charge that to the game". Once more he found himself in a rough crowd. He takes the last swig of his now warm beer, straightens his tie, tips his hat to Chauncey, and walks out the door**

Well, Chauncey and Fred came by to soothe my soul.

Chauncey: “The public if fickle. And it is hard to bottle lightening ;)
good stuff though.


Fred C said: No sweat, Carey, we're listening. It's always nice to read a good man's ideas about truth and principles. In a way, that's what Stagolee was all about, the man lived and died by his principles (whether we can subscribe to them or not). The last verse, as I do the song, sees the Stack-man found guilty of first-degree-murder and sentenced to the electric chair. "Stagolee died at midnight, head held up high, and the last thing he said 'my six-shooter never lied. Oh, and I've known a couple of Black guys who couldn't say motherfucker with a straight face. President Obama is a good actor, so he could probably manage it, but his heart wouldn't be in it.

Y’all will have to read the post to find out the connect to President Obama & motherfucker :-0

But Fred wiped away a few of my tears and he is alright with me. Now the clock on the wall says that’s all. It’s time to say goodbye to Fred and all my friends, but I will be back to see Who’s That Knocking At My Door.

Y’all come back now... ya hear? Who will be next?

Sunday, June 5, 2011

CAREER OPENINGS! FOOLS WELCOMED.


Why do birds fall in love? Why do they fall in love? Why do fools fall in love, why do they fall in love? Why do birds sing so gay and lovers await the break up day?

If you're still reading this post, you might be in good company. I mean, I did say "fools welcomed". But let me explain. This is actually a recap. I was so taken aback by the comments from my last post, I had to clean up my house.


See, like any party in which a bunch friends drop by, my house was no different. But wait.... if you think you may have drifted to the wrong blog, you still have time to leave. This post is for fools only. But wait.... before you go, I want you to read the following:


The post read: The job market is shrinking but I've uncovered a gem of a job that many have the experience and skills to fit right in. Of course a sheep-skin (degree) can propel a person to the top of the list but in this case, I do not believe it's a trump card.

Oh, and on a side note, what's that picture to the right?
Although I am perfectly content with my present employment, over the last few days I've been kicking myself for being closed minded. When I thought about it, this opportunity was present in my early years.

I remember the first time I ventured out to find my first real job. I was dressed sharp. I had a brief case in my hand with a sheep-skin inside. I knew I was qualified for the job, yet I was met with the usual skepticism. Well, I am a black man in America.

This is not a story of woe-is-me. This is a story of finding what I was not looking for. Oh, while I was being interview for the job, I was asked if I knew how to dance. Another question was, how does a black man spell Cadilac? The answer was P.O.N.T.I.A.C... "PO OLD NIGGA THOUGH IT A CADILAC". Really, I was asked those questions!


Job Title: ??????????


Qualifications: We are looking for a person that knows no sorrow. They must be careless, callous, indifferent and never broken up or softened by conviction or sorrow for wrong doing. They must hate knowledge and resist instruction. They must despise wisdom. A closed mind is helpful.
Added plus: Deficient in judgement, sense, or understanding. Easily deceived or duped. Willingly engages in buffoonery and trifling activity.


I believe I've said enough. That job apparently pays well. Even though the title may be vague, people are lining up to fill all the vacant positions. Yet, come to think of it, the title isn't vague. Maybe it depends on what a person is looking for.
Well, you make the call, what's the job title? What kind of person are they looking for? He's not an Engineer, he is a.........
Oh, btw, I didn't accept that job. However, at times I have used a few of the aforementioned qualification. I think it's a safe bet that we all have.

Websters New World Dictionary and Sixty Six Reference Books,  define a fool as...  A person that knows no sorrow. He is careless, callous, indifferent and never broken up or softened by conviction or sorrow for wrong doing. He is deficient in judgement, sense, or understanding. Easily deceived or duped. Willingly engages in buffoonery and trifling activity; despises wisdom.

Opps upside my head,  I've been a big fool, on many occasions.  However, if none of those characteristics apply to you, you may leave right now  But wait..... one more thang.

Who wants to be called a fool? Who wants to be associated with anything akin to being a fool. But truth be told, haven't we all been a fool? Haven't we all, at one time or another, been somebodies huckleberry? I mean, hasn't everyone been so pissed off, that they've showed their ass and acted like a damn fool? Although I am not a gambling man, I'd bet my left nut to a nickel that everyone has been a fool.

Case in point..... you're still reading this post.

But listen, have you ever visited a blog in which two individuals were debating and neither of them were listening to the other? Sure you have. I mean, although many bloggers proclaim they are open for discussion and debate, many times they ain't even trying to hear the words of the other person. Could that be considered something like HATING KNOWLEDGE and RESISTING INSTRUCTION? You know, one of the characteristics of being a fool?

In my prior post did you read the passage from NikKi? If you did, you'd have to agree that she was referring to two individuals acting foolishly. I'd bet my other nut, that scenario is played out time and time again in the blogsphere and in life.

Who me... "yes you!". Couldn't be..... "then who!"

Okay, I'll lead the way. I've been careless and callous. At times I didn't care about another persons feeling. I certainly didn't care what they had to say, even though I knew they were trying to give me a little wisdom. Why listen to the instructions of another person - huh? They might have talked some sense into me. That's no fun.
Why did they say that woman meant me no good? Hell, she was "good", but I digress. I wonder how many woman play the part of the biggest loser (a fool) by being in the company of a man they KNEW, was a rolling stone?

How about "Lie to me softly" or "use me to do the thangs I do, just keep on using me, till you use me up, because I sure am using you to do the thangs you do". That sounds like a special kind of fool.

I realize this is not the kind of post that garners a lot of comments.... and I'll tell you why. Well, "Why do fools fall in love - why do birds fall in love"? Birds of a feather seem to flock together. I know.... I know.....

But, nobody recognized the definition of a fool. One said, George Bush. Another identified the person as an AZZhole. Yet, someone else said it had to be a pimp or the devil. Several stopped by and simply shook their heads. Many fools do not know they are a fool. They can only see it in others.

What about a time called now? Are you still reading? Do you qualify? Who's a fool? :-)
Well, my hand is raised. And, that second image (above) is a ship of fools.

*lol*... don't hate the player. Just look in the mirror

Friday, June 3, 2011

DANGEROUS! 25Champ Has Been Knocking On My Front Door!

In the voice of the Ohio Players... FiiiiRE!... “dump dum dum, dum de dump”... FiiiiiRE!


The way you walk and talk, really sets me off, and I’m so excited. The way you squeeze and tease, knocks to me my knees...   the way you swerve and curve, really wrecks my nerves.

Dangerous, I say, with a capitol D.

Ladies and gentlemen, 25Champ has been knock knock knocking on my front door. He's the next victim, I mean, couragous soul who has volunteered to let me say a few kind words about him. You can see what I mean by visiting this link http://careycarey-carrymehome.blogspot.com/2011/05/bishop-eddie-long-oh-no-whitney-play-it.html and join in if you like.

 But now I am wondering if he’s a wee bit nervous of what I am about to say? Well, his feet are gonna fail him now, cuz there’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide (not now), cuz he has entered my twilight zone. And if he sticks and stays, and don’t run away, he might like what I’m about to say... I think? **evil grin**

Well, let me start by saying the man is a writer and a poet. Oh yeah, I went by his blog and he had all the ladies swooning and drooling over his love poems. And I swear, I think I saw a few panties thrown on his stage. But see, he couldn’t pick them up because he confesses that he love-love-loves his fiancĂ©. But while no one was looking, I swooped up a couple. Are you kidding me, I am a single black man in America and I need love. Wait a minute, let me shut my mouth because my lady might be reading this, and love WILL be long gone.

That reminds me, down the right hand column of this page, there’s a poem I wrote, it’s called “Is Love gone

But back to ol’ boy. When I first laid foot in his spot, I noticed a post that said “Food 4 Thought”. Heck, I’m a broke black man that’s always looking for a free meal, so I crept up to the dinner table. Now, what I am about to tell you is the truth and nothing but the truth. There were other people there, and enough food for everyone, but I had my eye on two delectable morsels... “you can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving” and for my desert... “There is a past which is gone forever, but there is a future which is still our own.”.

As I was chowing down on my fine dining, I thought to myself, “where did this young man find all this wisdom”? So I swallowed the rest of my red cool-red ( I prefer the green cool-aid but the brother only had red) and went off to find his source of wisdom, because I need some of that.

However, aside from my thirst for knowledge, I have something I do when I met a friend of mine in public. I greet them with a smile and extended hand, and say “ I know I am in the right place, because you’re here”. That always gets a smile from them and then we’re off to do what we do. So, as I was looking around Champ’s spot, I noticed that one of my favorite bloggers, and friend, Misrepresents  http://readingwritingblogging.blogspot.com/, was in the joint. She’s also a poet and a writer who has a few published novels, so I knew I must have been in the right place.

So, I thought it was a good idea to stop by Champ’s profile page to see what he said about himself. You know, we generally put a little sugar on our profiles because first impression are lasting impression. But as an old school fool, that’s been many places; many I never want to return to, I was looking to see if his version was pleather or real leather.

Now lets see, he mentioned Jesus Christ

His family

Football

And his love of “B” movies

Ummmm, there’s little I love more, than watching movies, but I can’t stand “B” movies. So I continued over to his favorite movie section. Ut oh, he had few of my favorites in there... “The Color Purple” and “The Five Heartbeats” and “Eddie Murphy Raw”. So now I knew he was working with something... that is, in my opinion. But then the big bang... Luther Vandross and 2 Pac were in his house! Lord have mercy, Champ can come to my house any time because I love how Luther did his thang. Luther is/was the best singer of all time. And 2 Pac! Come on now, there will never be another like 2Pac. Him and Biggie are the only two rappers that get any of my listening ear, well, Jay-Z can get some too.

So now I’m thinking my man Champ has been somewhere. I’ve come to believe that wisdom is gained by going THROUGH a few thangs, and coming out on the other side. I can safely assume that he has been in love and fallen out of love, and thus, learned a few lessons along the way. He’s a father of 3 girls ( I gotta tell him how to curl his toes to make a boy :-)). And we all know the struggles of raising children, so it’s possible he has made a few mistakes in that quest, but I can’t help but believe he has learned a few lessons, in that journey.

Well folks, before I close the curtain on 25Champ, I have to mention (like I did the others) what got him on my roster of “Who’s That Knocking On My Door”. He dropped by and said, “I am newbie 2 ur site...but I can honestly say I'm impressed with ur diversity in content...Keep it up :)”

Kind words for sure, but I wonder if he’s still impressed because now he’s part of the stew, and the thangs I do?

Listen, I have to run because I hear someone else knocking at my door. Who’s next? And btw, stop by Champ's spot and tell him where you got it.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

THE OLD BLACK CHURCH AND ME: Who’s That Knocking At My Door?

I am not a preacher but I’ve broke bread with several. My Uncle AB was a preacher and so is my Uncle, The Pastor Gabriel Barber, and so are several others in my family. We’re Baptist. My mother sang in the choir and my brother did to. I was an usher and my daddy was too. So I’ve been around  a number of Old Black Churches.

Today my eyes are on Ms. jj Brock, who's the host of the blog “The Old Black Church”  http://theoldblackchurch.blogspot.com/. She has knocked on my door a few times and brought along a few serendipitous rewards.

By definition, a serendipitous reward is making or finding a desirable discovery or reward by accident; something not looked for, like finding gold while tilling your garden, and/or, finding a good friend while the both of you  were going through serious life issues.

Let me go back. The name of my blog is Carry Me Home. It’s significance is that I was coming out of a storm when I decided to change my mindset concerning my past behavior and my future, and one of my avenues to do that was to adapt a belief in God, hence the name “Carry Me Home”. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a Bible thumping, finger pointing... “you’re gonna go to hell if you don’t do this and that” kind of guy, but I’ve come to believe that my faith and the words in the Bible were definitely my saving grace.

Anyway, over the years, Ann (Ms Brock) and I have developed a nice relationship which has found us sharing our pain, struggles and future hopes. But wait, remember when I said I’ve been around several preachers and have sat in many pews? Well, that’s not to say that every word that comes from the pulpit is something a person should take to the bank. Y’all know what I am talking about. So although Ann’s blog is called The Old Black Church, and I love me some old black church, I had to see for myself if she was for real.

Well, to my delight, the woman knows what she’s talking about and her faith is strong. She does not tell people what they should do or what they're doing wrong, oh no, she’s not the one to do a lot of “preaching”. She has always stood by the belief that the answers are in the Bible, and one needs a good teacher to lead  the way and interpret the words of the Bible, or be susceptible to false prophets.

She’s not a big debater nor arguer, like me, but sometimes she will address a comment if it goes too far left. In other words, she deals with the facts and nothing but the facts.

That takes me to another significant aspect of what I like  about Ms. Brock. Remember when I talked about her faith? Well, Dr King talked about something that I’ll call “BUT IF NOT”.

You see there's what is called an  if  faith. And there is a   Though  faith. And the permanent faith, the lasting, the powerful faith is the  though  faith. Now, the  if  faith says that  if  all goes well, if  life is hopeful, prosperous and happy,  if  I don’t have to go to jail,  if  I don’t have to face the agonies and burdens of life, if  I’m not ever called bad names because of taking a stand that I feel that I must take,  if  none of these things happen, then I’ll have faith in God. Then I’ll be all right. Now that’s the  IF  faith!

And the  though  faith says that  though  things go wrong,  though  evil is temporarily triumphed, though sickness comes and the cross looms, nevertheless, I’m going to believe anyway, and I’m gonna have faith anyway. Though the waters they off-roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake were the swelling thereof, the lord of host is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge.

Now that’s Ms jjbrock, she has the most powerful faith, the though faith.  I know that’s true because she has shared some of her pain with me, i.e., the lose of close family members, the lose of her home, and the ongoing battles we have all have with our children as they go through their trying times, and she is still holding on. She has a though faith.

Consequently, or maybe I should say,  it’s been my reward that she has shared her most recent ongoing battles with me, which in some way speaks to her comment that has her front and center in today’s “Who’s That Knocking At My Door”. Here’s her comment...

“Carey I love your seriousness especially when it comes to dealing with addicts....You are one in a million and I thank God for someone who can drop a post and it encourages me....Keep dropping knowledge cause it ain't over yet” ~ jjbrock

Well, I've often questioned why I, and others blog? Although we seldom talk about it, I doubt there's not one of us who doesn't want to be sought out, liked or admired, in some small way. So, although I didn’t start out blogging with any specific goal in mind, it’s always nice to hear words of encouragement, and in this case, Ann and I share another common bond. She said she loved my seriousness when it comes to dealing with addicts. Well, I don’t know how many of you have been following along over the years but I consider this a personal blog, in that, I share my life’s journey between these pages. Consequently, I am serious with the ongoing affairs of addicts, and love them, and respect them dearly, because I was an addict for many years, which forced me to find a way to re-love myself. Since the age of 18, I was addicted to a substance that would not let me go.

Now Ann has been faced with dealing with a son that has found himself in the world of drugs. So as we’ve conversed over the last couple of years, we’ve shared our blessings,discoveries, pains, and woe. I ’ve had to keep it seriously honest because there’s so much misleading information about addicts, treatment, what works and what does not work. I’ve lived it, and thus had to learn the hard way; what works, and whose voice not to listen to.

Through my struggles and need to know, I’ve discovered that addicts are some of the most intelligent, compassionate, and loving people that I know. Listen, on a real serious note, I’d rather be in the company of a recovered addict than a person who has not had to face themselves, or rediscover themselves. The addict has to sit down and admit to themselves that they need to change practically everything about their past behavior and past mindset, and accept the fact that they were “wrong“ in so many ways, which leads to a brighter day and a new beginning. That seldom happens for those that do not believe they have serious problems, or even what some may consider miner ones, and thus, have no reasons to change. If it ain’t broke (in their mind) why  fix it? And for the most part, they will always be “right”, if you ask them.

Anyway, one day I suggested to Ann that there might be a day in which she will have to cut the cord of her pain from her son. You know, not be there for their every beckon call, because in many cases we are not helping them do anything but continue what they've always done. I know that’s hard for a parent to hear, and accept, but since my life, to a large degree, is focused on the addict and recovery, I know those who find their way out of the storm of drug addiction, are  few and far between. And the overwhelming majority of drug user and alcohol abusers will not find their way out of their storm until they have nowhere to turn and no one to rely on but themselves. That’s a fact, and unfortunately, very real. Treatment centers (in which I‘ve worked ), will tell you differently, but I’ve been on the front lines, and they, treatment centers and some government agencies are telling bold face lies.

But I have to say there is one thing about addicts that I believe Ann will attest to. While their addiction is ongoing, they can be the most charming and loving son’s and daughters, fathers and mothers, a person could ask for, but they can be very cunning and awfully manipulative. They will cry, plead and moan and swear they will never do “it” again, but they always do. Oh yeah, they play on our hearts, pity, and our compassion, and the fact that parents and friends want the best for them. They choose that route of deceit because they have to. Their addiction is the driving force behind their behavior and their mindset. They are not the person that we loved and respected, they are someone who is being controlled by a drug. And generally they resist the idea that they are no longer in control. Sort of like a Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde... the person takes the drink or drug, and then the drug takes the person. I am here to tell you it’s not always, nor nearly the person’s fault. They did not sign up for a world of confusion, and frequently do not know how they got in, nor how to get out. Granted, there is loads of information on the path to “freedom” but again, I KNOW most of it's porous opinions and assumptions, and much of it is used to play upon those that are seeking help. Look, there is no money in curing alcoholics and drug addicts. The money can be found in keeping them coming back for more treatment, and the beat-down goes on. And, to a large degree, and maybe in a subconscious way, as long as the world has what they precieve and call addicts, they can drink their alcohol ( the most dangerous substance known to man) and do all sorts of dirt, without shame; feeling good about themselves, because they ain’t like those “addicts”. But in truth, we all have some things in our closets that we would NOT want the world to emulate, nor know about. I know the path and journey to recovery (recovering what we may have lost) is wrought with usurpers and misinformed relatives, and is a long road, a grueling road, and many times very lonely.  OH MY!  However, my motto is, What About A Time Called Now!

I don’t know how Ann’s son is doing right now, but I know she has a faith that gets her through her nights, and has found a way to relieve some of the pain she experiences from dealing with and loving her son.

And maybe, our walk together has helped in some small way.

That’s it, Me And The Old Black Church And Ms JJBrock. That’s who, and what, has been knocking on my door. Tomorrow I’ll open the door to another visitor. Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Hazel Eyes and Me: Who's That Knocking On My Door?



A High School Cheer... “everywhere we go, people want to know who we are and where we came. We are the Tigers, the mighty mighty Tigers, and if they can’t hear use we'll sing a little louder”

Well folks, here we are at another person who has been knocking on my door. Last night it was Keith, and now it’s Hazeleyes. I opened with the sing along “everywhere we go” because it has a little tie with Ms. Hazeleyes, and to illustrate that point, I wrote a couple of poems especially for her. Now bare with me because although I have a few published poems, the following are not one of them.

But first, when Hazeleyes commented on the post that now finds her front and center, this one
http://careycarey-carrymehome.blogspot.com/2011/05/bishop-eddie-long-oh-no-whitney-play-it.html

she said the following:

“Carey, I love reading your stories and the thing I like the most is your honesty. You let a person know who you are and your not ashamed of anything in your past nor present life. There's not many times we get to enjoy the pain and laughter of someone who's not afraid to share there stories and keep it real Thanks Carey you have inspired me so much through your writing keep it up...Hazeleyes”

Now how do I follow something like that. I’m blushing over here. I mean, “I” inspired someone?
Well, since she mentioned my writing and my newly learned ability to keep it real and keep it honest, I couldn’t help but drop 2 poems on her. And, I gave her a nickname. I think I’ll call her Cookie.



Cookie With My Coffee

I’ve personalized your essence
Your presence stays with me
Lingers, fingers
My pleasure zone

I dream
Intoxicated
I’ve waited
I missed her
My black sista

Apropos, I don’t know
But I am loving the brilliance of her
Sharp bright light, laying claim to my heart
Blinded, I don’t mind it

My mind is centered on her
Inside
Outside
Don’t want to be left behind

Friendship? Ambiguous?
Predisposed? I don’t know?
Time will be the test
Can’t rest, I love being with her

~Carey



And y’all know what, this got good to me, so I wrote another one.

Cookie On My Mind

Thinking of you
Your presence is real
Time pauses
I am feeling you
Others
Thought
Try to intrude
Us
We are together
If only in my mind
Life’s suspended
locked away
We sit on a rainbow
Gold?
At the end?
Not now
I have you
A diamond
Formed
Cultured like a pearl
The end is not near
Time is suspended
I am with you.

~Carey



There they go, short and to the point because we never know who’s knocking on our door. Well, maybe I should explain that a little bit more. I have a woman that lives way across town and she’s good to me, oh yeah. And sometimes she visits my site to see if I am misbehaving, or doing what I do best... running my mouth. And my life would not be nearly as enjoyable, and I’d be lost without her by my side. So when Hazeleyes showed up and commented on the above link, I knew who was knocking on my door.

Ladies and gentle, Cookie is my real thang. She’s my woman. That’s right, she cooks my meals and eases my troubled mind. And I can’t do without her.

Good night and sleep tight, and I’ll be back tomorrow with another “Who’s That Knocking At My Door?

And btw, Cookie really does have Hazel Eyes.



Daddy's Little Girl

How many chances do we get at being a father?

I've always thought being a man was about being tough and strong. I put a great deal of emphasis on providing for my family and protecting them. I believe it's safe to say most fathers (real fathers) feel the same way. Looking back...   the hardest thing for me to do on a continual basis was share my emotions. I gave my family most things that I thought would be beneficial for their survival. Yet I sometimes wonder if I gave them all the tools necessary to endure the long haul of life. I now look back and wonder if I gave them all of me. It would be easy to take the less painful road and say it's not about me. I could blame everybody and everything... I could open the door to excuses. Yet, I've come to believe that would be closing the door on growth.

I've stated that I didn't have a defined purpose for blogging. I've noticed some come on their blog and say hello family. I really appreciate those that stop by my site, if only to lurk. Even more so, to those that have raised their hands as followers. Those that have been courageous enough or curious enough to leave a few words of encouragement and wisdom. Maybe... just maybe my purpose is being defined for me through my sharing and your thoughtful comments.

Now, how does one prepare for the departure of their only daughter. In many ways my daughter was a bond that kept my family together. She was an integral part of my family unit. She was not planned. Her mother and I were kids playing house and she became pregnant while we were in high school. We married and struggled as young parents .....We shared dreams and spent many days and nights preparing our daughter for the day I will never forget.


Being a young father .....I was just like the birds and the four legged animals that had to find safety in a tree. I could change my spots to look like a man and talk like a man but I wasn't a man. I seldom reached inside to find the soul of a man. I had always mimicked my father... he was a great influence on my life... I watched his moves but I never saw his tears. When I became a boy with a child I was scared and insecure... I masked my fears and shoved those emotions behind. I thought it wasn't manly to show fear... I found it hard to admit that I didn't know how to handle certain things, like my emotions and insecurities. I was about to leave my daughter on the steps of a large University.... with strangers.

My daughter had never seen me cry... my wife had never seen me cry ....in truth, after leaving my parents home ... I had never cried. I thought back to the day my father told me to leave his home and go raise my family... I remember his pain .....I now was sharing those same emotions. I wondered if I was making the right decision or was I living through my daughter by suggesting she go to a large University far away from home, when she could have gone to a local college with similar benefits. Did I think her chances of being an Olympic star were greater .....living my dream?


My wife and I were about to leave our daughter at her new home ....The University of Kentucky. We were proud yet fearful ....I was her track coach. I had accompanied her on most of her trips. My wife would always be by my side ....assisting as mothers do ....she even ran along during training ....we used her as a rabbit. My daughter would spot her yardage and try to beat her to the line. My son was along ....he was just joyful of the promise of a Happy Meal. My daughter was a high school and national age group champion .....she now was going to Kentucky ....A College National Champion.

In many ways my wife and I didn't plan for this day. Sure, we planned for our daughters new day but not our lives together, without our little girl. The days were gone when we would nudge one another to see who would change her diaper or pick her up from practice. There would be no more loading of the car .....the four of use for family trips to wonderful cities. What would my wife and I do when we didn't have our daughter around? Someone we felt we had to stand guard over. Was this like retirement? Was I retiring from being daddy and she daddy's little girl.


I couldn't fake this one... I couldn't change my spot from a sad, insecure and fearful father to one that appeared as if he had it all together... this was real. Emotions flooded me ....I looked at my wife for answers ....her eyes and posture told me that she too had visited a dark place. Emotions I seldom dealt with, invade my soul ....rationalization and ambiguous thought were no match for the pains and discomfort I was feeling.


I was the leader of the family. As we got closer to the moment of goodbyes ....I again looked in the eyes of my wife... and with some reserve and trepidation .....I looked into the eyes of my daughter ....they both were looking for answers from their leader. That was a defining moment in my life. At that moment I think I became closer to being a real man ....I lost it ....I cried ....I couldn't talk, I cried. I showed my vulnerability ....I didn't have all the answer and I didn't know anything else to do.

I miss my wife.

Baby Momma Drama! Part 1




If a women has children by different men, what is she? Some are quick to call her a scank or a ho. Others might say she's a woman of low principles. Let me tell you a story and I'll tell you what I call them. I have a definition that's counter to the popular opinion.


This story is about a man and a women that fell in love. Do you like a good love stories - I do. Like most love stories there's a beginning, a middle and the end. This story begins with a man that had lived a few years and a young beautiful black women that was just leaving her nest. They met in the military; he a fast talker, slick walker. She was a young innocent girl out to see the world. He had a history. In fact, he was denied entry into one branch of the military because of past criminal behavior. He was young but the streets called him at an early age. Being of a criminal mind and no ones fool, he found a way to slip into a different branch of the armed forces.
Since he considered himself a lover and not a fighter and wasn't going to shoot at anyone, he wiggled his way into the cool confines of office life. He felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies ....swimming pools, movies stars AND air conditioning. Life was good, he had a first hand view of all the new women that arrived on the base. Aside from greeting them at the door, their records preceded them. At first he felt kind of funny looking at their past but he rationalized that it was his job to make sure all their records were in order - it was one of his jobs.


He came from the streets so he'd witnessed all the pimps and hustlers trying to lay their magic on women but his thang was different. An old player told him that women love sincere men that make them smile. So his thang was sincerity with a smile and a pinch of dishonest ....just a pinch. He knew that most women felt isolated in the military and longed for home. Well, while looking through their records to see if they had any ...ahhh, any ...ahhh, things he didn't want to catch, he would look to see what high school they went to and the city they were from.


He was a clever old fox. While greeting them at the door he would extend his hand and then quickly pull it back with a startled look and say, "Helen Lampkin, German Town High School, women you haven't changed one bit". The ice was broken, the women was comfortable with her lost and found homie. Now, he still had work to do but friends before lovers was the name of the game and two friends had found each other on a lonely military base.


One such women tweaked his heart along with his love of hide and go seek. She was a city girl that walked with a long stride that said, I know I look good and you can't have any. Her shoulders were back and her chin was slightly tipped up. She had heard all the lines. Women like that don't have to sleep alone. The old wolf knew he had to come with a new game. He decide just to be sincere without any lies. He told her what he generally did when anticipating a new arrival but that he just want to be straight up with her. He told her that he just wanted to meet her and he didn't want to start a friendship off with a lie. She paused and asked him if he looked in her medical records. He looked deep into her eyes and told her that he had not - he lied but the relationship blossomed :-). Hey, he was a wolf, okay.


Life was good, they were the talk of the base. They drove around in a brand new block long Oldsmobile Ninety Eight that she helped him pay for. They yelled out the windows at the other soldiers and turned up their music to blast Marvin Gay .....what's going on .....what's going' on.


They were in love. There was only one problem. This wolf turned serious lover had another lover - back home ...a child too.


Love is a funny thang, it doesn't divide in equal parts.


This is part 1 of Baby Momma Drama ....Don't turn that page.


Solomon said...
Sounds intrguing Carey, I can't wait for the conclusion to the story!

CareyCarey said...
Well Solomon, I hate to disappoint you but since this is a true story and I am still living, please take the pins out of that voodoo doll :-). If there's something anyone wants to ask about any parts of the story, I will be glad to answer them as long as it doesn't give away too much of the story.I could cut to a different time in the story but I'll just see if others are interested in reading it and then see if I should drop it or move it along.Any suggestions

SLC said...
Man you have definitely lived an exciting life. I guess excitement can be costly however. I must say I thoroughly enjoy the wisdom you've gained from these situations and your fresh perspective on women with children by multiple fathers.I think any question(s) I have will be answered in future posts so at this point I'll turn the page.Peace.SLC


CareyCarey said...
Thanks for stopping by SLC. Your words are always taken with the utmost respect. You don't comment much so I feel honored.Yes, it has been exciting,costly and filled with lost hope and pain ...TO SAY THE LEAST! But I have to say this "What About A Time Called Now". The cost was not necessarily in money but I was spiritually bankrupt as well. But, as you well know, it's gonna be alright in the morning if we just believe. "call those things that are not, as if they already are"


Tia said...
Part II really speaks to my heart and my situation! Damn you Carey! I wanted to print out this posting and mail it to him...thanks for taking responsibility!

CareyCarey said...
Thank you Tia, sometimes we have to turn the page.


Blu Jewel said...
Man, I know this story well. I've seen it played out a few times. I'm happy that your son was not caught in the cross fire and that by the grace of God you managed to survive. love to live; live to love!