I was encouraged to blog but I didn't know what it was about. I reached out to a few bloggers that I thought were doing it right ...Keith, Big RiPPa, Zack, Rich and others put me up on a little something.
I've asked the general question of ...."Why Do You Write" .....many responded.
Mizrepresent: ...."Writing is my release. ...gives me peace ...expresses my joys, pains, visions and journeys ...allows me to create and recreate for the sake of telling a story"
Cynique: ...."I write because - it is a challenging way to transform my creativity into words"
Furociouskitty: ...."I write because I love language and good stories. I read for the same reasons ...I love the power of language, of words ....I write because there's nothing I enjoy more, that I can get paid to do"
Vanders: ...."I write because I have to. I have to see my thoughts and expression on paper"
All the above responses hit me hard ....the following brought it home.
Mizrepresent: ...."Carey- i have always thought some of our most powerful writers, and talented were the ones who had suffered much and in the end gained themselves......."
I was inspired to write this post by SLC and A Free Spirit Butterfly. Miss Butterfly said it's all about values and character.
I went to church today because I needed to. Church can be an intimidating place ....all the good people are there - wrong! ...I've been doing all the wrong things so I'd be a hypocrite if I went - wrong! I don't know why others go but I might have committed a few errors in judgement throughout the week and need to tighten my game. I might have been the biggest sinner up in there ....but I doubt it.
The message came from Ezekiel. Many know popular passages from that book .....I concentrated on the message of putting something new on my old bones.
My father was the best man I've ever known. I can remember the day he was waiting for me at the kitchen table, it was 7am. The night before, my girlfriend Ann, called and said she was scared and asked if I would come over. I fathered a child with Ann and she lived alone with our child. I lived in my parent’s home, a room to myself. My brothers were off to college and I loved my silence .....my room. Before they left it was the three of us in a small upstairs room ....my oldest brother, Gary slept on a hideaway bed ...my other brother and I shared a bed. We always made fun of Gary because he had to fold up his bed every morning while we sort of threw ours together.
I knew dad would be waiting for me. He was very strict about being on time. We had curfews and it was understood that they were not to be broken. He often told us that if he said 11 o'clock it didn't mean 11:01.We were not allowed to go out on weekdays unless it was to a sporting event. My father boxed and my brothers and I were involved in many sports. Regardless of the event ...if the witching hour passed ....dad could be found waiting at the kitchen table.
I opened the door with caution as if nothing was wrong. I was prepared for my punishment .....or at least I thought I was. I assumed he would make me wash the dishes for a month or cut all the neighbors grass and that would have been okay .....he was sitting at the table ....he stared at me and without hesitation said, "boy, what do you think this is? I can't remember my father giving us a beating or whippings .....he wasn't that kind of father, yet he always demanded respect and we alwaysgave it to him without question. I explained to him that my girl friend heard noises in her new apartment and asked if I'd join her .....I saw a look in his eyes that I'd never seen before .....he wasn't mad, it wasn't disgust, it was fear and concern. He knew I was about to pass into a life that I was ill prepared to handle. He paused ....then said, son it is honorable of you to go and see about the welfare of your girlfriend and the child. I now what you to go upstairs and pack your things .....he dropped his head, raised it and continued ....we will not have a fatherless child in this family .....and it’s time for you to go raise your family. I'd never seen my father cry. A tear appeared in the corner of his eyes. I was a teenager ....Ann and I were not in love ....we were kids playing an adult game
I didn't plead my case ....I said okay and walked to my room ....I wasn't prepared for this new role as a man and a father .....I was a kid and I made mistakes. I am now reflecting on those mistakes. I married Ann, she is now gone ....she has gone home.
What about a time called now?
*This post was one of my first. It was written March 2009. That's me & my daughter (in picture). We've made it through the ruff times.