Over the weekend my oldest relative, my Great Aunt Ruth, passed away at the milestone age of 101. She outlived her husband, all of her siblings and a large number of those who came after her. She was my grandmother's sister, a proud, tall woman who wore her long silver hair in a thick braid down her back. In this instance, the adage, "Life is too short..." doesn't apply. So the question is, should you, or I or any of us be blessed to see 100+ years will it be a life well-lived, chock-full of contributions to this life that your family and maybe even the world can speak of, or will it be a drudgery that took too long to end?

The choice is yours...

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Kind of like a child, five snuck up on me pretty quickly. But unlike a child, my blog doesn't sit around reminding me how old it will be or badger me with a never ending list of gifts it wants for turning one year older. But it might be kind of cool if it did, because I simply can't remember much of my life before my wife and kids.

Five years ago today I wrote my first post here at Makes Me Wanna Holler. Back then it was called Manchild In The Promised Land and it had a very hard to remember web address. I wasn't writing about being a father or a husband. Instead I was concealing, via thoughtful blog posts how much I hated my commute, how lost and scared I felt marching into older adulthood and maybe most importantly how alone I felt in the world as an adult only child, a man who's friendships had succumbed to the busyness of marriages and family life and in one instance just an inexplicable departure of a friend. Looking back on these five years I know my wife didn't pick up on this or if she did, she mistook it for something else, assigning other names to my fears and my lack of expertise in dealing with them: selfishness and self-centeredness. I told the world I was writing to get a book deal, but I know better now. I needed someone to listen, even if it, my blog, said nothing back.

This blog very quickly evolved into a self-study of me that all of you, well seventeen of you back then  --- that I emailed whenever I wrote something, just happened to be privy to. You grew with me as this thing, this user-interface I've been opening up almost daily, was my couch and counselor helping me grow strong, to understand myself so that I can understand and speak to others. It has become my silent trainer, turning me into a writer I never dreamed I was capable of being. It has been my loudest advocate telling the world "Come look at this guy! Work with him!" It is my platform. Like Kevin Hart, who I recently saw in concert, it's my stage where I've got fire and I hold court, when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm waxing philosophical and when I'm angry. And in the last two years it has become what I always wanted it to be but could never truly share ---- a creator of opportunities. I've been laughed at. I've been branded a fool and a man without a plan because why would anyone dedicate so much time to something --- an alleged hobby --- that on it's face doesn't appear to be doing anything more than gaining me a self-serving crowd of Internet groupies --- male and female? Because first, it was never a hobby and second, somehow I knew without knowing that some good would come of all this. And my groupies aren't groupies at all, but people who just happen to need a good word from time to time. I think. I am humbled that they seek me for it.

After five years of me pouring words into this blog, this blog has begun to speak, no, shout, for itself. In the last month it has even taken on the role of provider. It is my testament that a man can try, and keep trying, and keep trying, develop a love and appreciation for the journey --- even during the worst of times --- and start getting it right. It is my love letter to my kids. It is my owner's manual on adult manhood for my son. It is my guidebook for my daughter on how a man should treat a woman and some insight on understanding him so she maybe won't be so quick to judge when dealing with someone she loves and worse, act on those judgments. It is proof to my wife that I've always put the needs of my family and her needs, first. I had a master plan or the Master had a plan that not even I believed totally.

I can't say that  MMWH.com will see ten. If I'm still writing the same old same old for ten years straight then I'm doing something wrong. Eventually both my kids will be gone and even if I have another one, you all know what I'm going to do. Maybe in six years you'll be watching the Makes Me Wanna Holler Show or made for TV movie or webisodes. I don't know. I haven't gotten there yet. Or have I?

I'm glad I heeded the heavenly nudge to continue this on the oh so many days when I just wanted to quit. What I can say is, "Happy Birthday" to my therapist, my testimony, my trainer, my advocate, my platform, my door-opener, my virtual baby, my friend, my blog. I can also say, "Thank you!" for it has truly been a blessing.

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Thoughts? Please, let me know in the Facebook or Disqus comment sections below.

So I am one of those guys who uses Pinterest. Yup, I am. A good friend of mine, who is credited at the bottom of the image below, posted this to one of his boards and added a slightly harsh sentiment to go along with it. Mine is shorter. But I'm not sure it's sweeter:

"If you box me in...sooner or later...I will break your box."

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Thanks for reading! To learn more about me, you can read my story.

I recently attended Digital Atlanta, which I almost missed because I thought it was this week and not the one that just passed. I attended one event on how to use of video to drive online traffic where my friends were panelists and was inspired in the process. @LamarTyler, @AmaniChannel and @Jeffrey_Funk are titans in the online video game and shared their stories about the power of video over straight writing and in addition to it. I don't have a video camera nor a DSLR with a video function nor any editing software that will generate the kind of results I would demand of myself. But I do have a new iPhone and I found a nifty little App called Splice which allowed me to do produce the following...



If you like the video, please share and join my YouTube Channel.

PS - Please excuse the camera shake (where it wasn't intended). This was my very first time shooting and editing video - all inside a phone at that.

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This one is going to require more than one post and it will require way more words than I am writing right now. This is merely an introduction to a series of forthcoming posts.

It's amazing how the human brain works. You might ask a question of yourself (something I highly recommend), only to forget about it and move on with your life. But that doesn't that mean that beautiful ugly gray organ inside your skull isn't hard at work seeking out answers to your questions. So at this point you are probably wondering what is it that I asked of myself. It was a short question of four short words:

I'm sure those of you who have been reading me for years have noticed the recent changes here at MakesMeWannaHoller there are more product reviews and more brand ambassadorships than ever before. There is one simple explanation for this: I'm getting paid for 90% of them. Times are tough and I have mouths to feed and children to clothe.

In July this blog suddenly became profitable --- profitable in that it cost nothing but my time and mental energy to produce it, which in my opinion is priceless but that's just me. So it actually isn't profitable, but clearly some money beats no money at all.

At 6:48am this morning I turned 40 years old. I don't feel any different than the day before or the hundreds of days preceding today. I've done some thinking about it though and come up with this short list of not-so secrets to staying young at heart, mind and soul. Hopefully by doing these things the body will also follow suit:

Me, Thinking

In 21 days I will be 40...

There's nothing grave in this statement for me. I don't plan on losing my mind. Although my wife has talked about trading me in on more than one occasion, I have no desire to swap her out for a newer model with more gizmos and options. You won't see a taxi cab yellow and chrome chopper sitting sparkling in my driveway. I won't be in a convertible at least until I'm able to put my current alternator-free SUV back on the streets. I don't plan on buying a four carat diamond to stick in the vacant piercing in my left ear. Nope - no mid life crisis for me.

I know I'm not the best dad.

Many days I won't even claim being a good dad.

I'll never pat myself on the back for what I do.

Nor do I want to receive pats or cookies for it.

It doesn't come natural although some are "naturals".

Thank God I had and still have a model to work from.

The greatest teacher I've ever had.

My dad.

Thanks, Dad.



E.Payne is the author of Investing In An Emotional Letdown and I Didn't Invented Sex. For the past 3 years he has posted 600+ articles about fatherhood, marriage and everything in between here at Makes Me Wanna Holler.com. To learn more, click here.

It’s been quiet over at the holler spot as of late. I’m going through this thing that I’ve always been going through but every so often, such as now, it wreaks havoc on my ability to write. This blog has grown and matured into a thing that I sometimes view as beautiful. Then there are other times when I think it’s pointless. It began about me. But then I got tired of me and started chopping it up about my kids. Then I got wary of discussing them online and turned topical. There is material aplenty in this department, but everyone deals with what is going on everyday. What more can I possibly add to the conversation? There are so many good bloggers out there blogging their asses off. Hell, even my wife’s Facebook statuses (stati) are the stuff of sitcom scripts, garnering comments that often reach into the double digits. So instead of writing about what I think is going to get me traffic or comments or what I think readers want to read, right here and right now I’m just going to write about something that’s been on my mind for quite some time: superheroes.

For those of you who have been around since this blog was conceived you know I have a certain affection for the completely imaginary/absurd when it comes to men who are super. Now mind you I’m not into everything super. Even though I’m African American I don’t dig Black Panther, Power Man or Steel. Black superheroes (who are written for the sake of being Black, diversity or whatever, rather than super and coincidentally Black (such as Storm who is African so she doesn’t really apply anyway)) are pandering and boring. I’m not into superheroes who can turn on computers or light bulbs with their minds, or ones whose sole power is to run fast, nor am I into the mystics, like Dr. Strange. Thor doesn’t really do much for me either. Captain America never appealed to me because all he is is strong (albeit forever young), he has a motorcycle and a giant Frisbee that defies physics and acts like a boomerang. I never thought Iron Man really had any powers. He just had stuff that made him strong. Strangely I absolutely dreamed of being the android, Vision, but hey who can make sense of their every preference? And I can’t say that I’m a fan of many supervillains other than maybe Venom, Green Goblin, Hobgoblin, The Joker, Magneto and of course Darth Vader, as he’s been mythologized in comics, books and video games, not portrayed in movies. Then there are my favorites: Peter Parker, the Amazing Spider-Man, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, Clark Kent a.k.a. Superman the Kryptonian, Wolverine, the crazy, feral man with no memory who is indestructible. Rogue, the chick who is all powerful at the price of not being able to touch anyone directly. The list is a little longer than this but not by much.

What brought all of this on? I was reading an article about Sony’s decision to can the original Spider-Man franchise’s fourth installment. Mind you this franchise put the B back in blockbuster weekends, but apparently due to extreme creative differences with Sam Rami (which after S3 I can definitely believe) it’s done. They are going to do a reboot and put Parker back in high school. Spider-Man 1 was so good. I’m not sure why they would do a reboot while the franchise is still fresh in this generation but what do I know? I digress. In the article they interviewed Stan Lee, Spidey’s co-creator and God of Marvel, and he made the statement that Parker is a boy who struggles with wanting to be more than he is. We are in a world currently gone mad (but mostly stupid), where priorities are all over the place, where children have more technology than adults, where athletes who run around in circles get paid millions of dollars to run around in circles, where I am forced to care about the lives of celebrities because their news is most of the news that is on the news. Politics? Please. All of this besides making me wanna holler, makes me occasionally wish I was more than what I am. I wish I could be so busied with the matters of saving others, keeping my head attached to my neck, or keeping intergalactic peace that I honestly couldn’t have enough energy to give a damn. And I’d be doing some good in the process.

Which brings me to the superhero’s paradox: Who is the person, the man without the mask or battle armor or the one with it? “Peter Parker who is secretly Spider-Man,” as the statement goes. What’s the secret? Spider-Man is a public figure. No one knows who Parker is. That’s the real secret. Spider-Man needs to keep Peter Parker secret from the watching world as well as the people he loves. A mask is made to conceal, but in the case of the superhero the mask reveals. Their true characters emerge in ways they never could when they are just wearing their God-given faces. Peter Parker becomes the un-defeatable wiseacre as soon as he pulls his down over his face. When the impossibly rich, super-polished Bruce Wayne dons his cowl his seething rage and borderline insanity erupts from within. Superman is Superman first, Clark Kent second. He is Clark Kent so he can exist among us and have some semblance of a normal life and stay abreast of what’s going wrong in the world (as a reporter). And interestingly enough under the guise of Clark Kent, he wears most of his wants and desires on his sleeve.

But don’t we all have that mask that occasionally reveals who we truly are? I watched my son playing basketball last week and I saw someone on the court that I don’t know at home. Confident, barking at opponents, knowing where to be, driving the basket, passionate, fluid, not exactly graceful but definitely on his way --- almost powerful. It was awesome to watch.

Several months ago in the midst of a heated “debate” with my wife, she said, “As far as that blog goes, I don’t know who is writing that or what he’s writing about because that certainly ain’t you!” [This is more or less what she said.] It felt like I had been kicked in the chest. I defended myself in the moment but many days later, I turned on my laptop and began scrolling through the hundreds of posts I’ve compiled here and genuinely began to wonder whether I’ve unknowingly created another persona in the form of Man, Dad, Husband. Or am I just truly my authentic self in written word? Is this site my mask and battle armor? Are the words/desires that I type here my weapons/powers?

Every superhero has his weakness, his Achilles heel. Superman has Kryptonite. In the case of Batman his greatest strength is also his greatest weakness: he won’t kill. Similarly, I love hard and even stupidly at times, both people and things I dedicate my passions to, and for reasons unbeknownst to me I believe I’m supposed to receive that same level of love in return. But I keep on loving anyway because I believe that there is real, life-giving (besides the obvious) power in love, even if very few others do or even know what this means.

Weaknesses aside, every superhero has a moment of reckoning where they analyze the price they’ve paid for living two lives. Despite all that he is as Spider-Man, Peter Parker is broke and perpetually losing at love. Even if he were to get his mommy and daddy back, Bruce Wayne knows he cannot cast off the monster he’s created though there are tugs at his heartstrings for a normal life. Iron Man (who I’ve come to love since the rise of Technology and personally careening out of control toward the age of 40), has been fully suited, passed out next to his true demon, an empty bottle of liquor, trying to make sense of it all. Kal-El, otherwise known as Superman, longs for a homeworld and family he’ll never know and struggles with being a god amongst men and being needed but feared and even hated at the same time. I, someone who isn’t even close to being average, let alone super, write a blog that now a modest few thousand people read from time to time. From the comments and emails I receive, readers actually have come to believe I’m somewhat insightful and maybe a little wise beyond my years. But in the real world, I’m as broke as a joke and have a wife who I’m not sure is able to love me two days in a row in any week of the year. I have a son who most days of week comes off as if I am having no impact on him whatsoever as he heads into manhood (he’s a teen so I try to keep this in mind). Like the Dark Knight, I’m a guy who’s lived long enough in the lives of those closest (extended family, too) to me to watch myself go from being the hero to the villain. I’m a dude who paces out in front of my daughter’s school pretending to send text messages while all the other parents saddle up in their German and luxury Japanese vehicles. After they’ve gone then I walk to my truck that I smashed in on one side backing out of my own garage and can’t afford to fix. At my wife’s company Christmas party I was literally climbing the walls, not sure what I was going to say if someone asked me anything, fretful that that someone was going to engage me in a real conversation and discover my true secret: I’m a guy who didn’t believe in myself enough as a younger man to pursue any of God's given gifts given to me that are my passions. My gifts are ones that I desire so strongly to give back to Him to glorify Him (and make some bread at the same time). Instead I opted to join the rat’s race and run at the rat’s pace only to discover that I don't belong, after trying again and again to fit in. I've never belonged, not even for a minute. And like most superheroes, I am an outsider to what society and most people consider and accept as “normal”. Fortunately for me my daughter currently believes I’m about as good as it gets when it comes to super men. When so many can’t or refuse to, she seems more than willing to see and extol the good in me, despite my missteps and flaws. She hasn’t yet been so tainted by the world that she opts to love conditionally and to judge without merit. I hope the world doesn’t rob her or any child of this naturalness. All I can do is pray against the inevitable.

So maybe I’m super after all. Like these fictional characters I have something to hide, but at the same time I am something that the world (Internet) views as honorable, complex, somewhat unique and maybe even half-decent. But at the end of the day no one really knows who I am. Like most combating a world gone mad (but mostly stupid), I’m trying to hold my family together in a world gone mad (but mostly stupid). And at what price? Pieces of me? My sanity? Never being at peace? Always waiting for the other shoe to drop? Wondering what life would be like without me? (No worries, I’m not suicidal) How would the people who depend on me, both young and old, get along? Or maybe it’s simpler than all of this? Maybe it’s just what people like Stan Lee and Bob Kane tapped into decades ago: wanting/aspiring to be more than you actually are and being forced to fight the good fight at the same time because of your powers/abilities that take turns being blessings and curses in your life. And then somewhere in the midst of the battles the hero emerges and realizes his calling.

I haven’t figured it out yet. If and when I do, maybe I’ll let y’all know.

Or, maybe I won’t. After all, I’ve got a secret identity to protect.

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Last year I wrote a Happy Birthday post to myself that was bubbling vitriol --- a cry against all that I wished hadn't happened on my birthday. In retrospect I would been better off 1) stating my concerns aloud instead of hashing them out online, and 2) not doing anything but what I wanted to do on my birthday so I wouldn't have been upset in the first place.

Yes, folks I have learned a lot in this past year, but instead of all the finger-pointing that human nature might have driven me to do in the past, I only have one person I can honestly say I've come to know much better than ever before.

That person is me.

Today I am 39 years old.

My father was 39 and established when he had me. I had two kids by the age of 35.

My father was very settled and secure in his career path and had a couple degrees under his belt. I have a couple degrees under my belt and from what I've been able to determine a spiritual gifting for writing (as I put close to know effort into what I pour out onto the page I cannot honestly take credit for most of what I blog. If anything I genuinely believe I'm a vessel.)

At 28, I wrote out a plan for myself and I love to write down my plans.

When I wrote the plan I could see it clear as a bell. I was established and comfortable standing at the bow of a boat. I was holding a child that was mine and a woman who loved me was close by enjoy the water. She was a little on the exotic side. I was 39 I was established and I was happy. Clearly all of what I envisioned hasn't and may not come to pass but I believe the vision was a metaphor for success, satisfaction, contentment and my knowing and having true love in my life.

And I believe I'm almost there.

When my father was 39 he had a full head of silver/gray wavy hair. I rock a shaved head with a shock of white hair running through my goatee.

When my father was 39 he had been married for several years. I'm coming up on my third year of marriage in 2 weeks.

Clearly I have an issue with comparing my life to my father's.

I'm working on it.

At 39 I am the proud father of a toddler and a teen.

I have the body of a man ten years younger than me. And feel no different than I did four years younger than that.

I do have a genuine understanding and foundation of what REAL love is even if I don't have a full grasp on applying or receiving it in my own life.

I love my children and my children KNOW I love them. Thus they walk and act with the confidence and boldness that comes from knowing they have encouragement, they have support and they have love.

I have the courage to get over myself and acknowledge that I need to practice as much as I preach. I'm taking the necessary steps to reroute that which is running off the rails in my life and not act as if "it's all good."

I love God more than I ever have before and move confidently knowing he's got me in the palm of his hand as long as I stay near to him...

That's a challenge and a half...

A friend wished me Happy Birthday on Facebook and referred to this past year of my life as a "Year of Reinvention." Though I am thankful for all the birthday wishes that are pouring in, these words ring out the loudest to me because of their dead-on accuracy.

I could go on. But today is my birthday. I've already spent half of it getting my car fixed. I don't want to spend the rest sitting in front of a computer.

Thanks for all the love!


There's a new book on Fatherhood coming to a store or e-reader near you! Add your name to list of people who want to see it happen. Please "Like" Bottom Line Fatherhood and count yourself as one who supports positive outlooks on the Dad Life.

Check out the Eric Payne interview over at All SWAGGA, a really nice site focused on how to be clever and confident while becoming a better father and a better man.

After you finish over there head on over to the Makes Me Wanna Holler Facebook Page and weigh in on today's discussion topic. Remember to click on the Discussions Tab.




There's a new book on Fatherhood coming to a store or e-reader near you! Add your name to list of people who want to see it happen. Please "Like" Bottom Line Fatherhood and count yourself as one who supports positive outlooks on the Dad Life.

I had a very busy week this week. Once my move From Home To House was complete, I fully anticipated powering through the rest of my week as normal.

Instead, I crashed. HARD. I guess my body was telling me to put a sock in it.

Below are some recent and not so recent relevant reads written by your host, E.Payne, here on this blog and elsewhere around the Net. If you don't have anything else better to do, then check them out below!

Friends of Your Marriage

Dad As Easy As A, B, C

Marriages & Grudges Don't Mix

Walking In Darkness

The Huddle of the Wife And Kids

Want to enrich your Makes Me Wanna Holler experience with discussions, current events and interacting with people just like you? Then please "Like" the Makes Me Wanna Holler Facebook Page and join the movement. You won't be disappointed.

The more things come together...

The older I get...

The more predictable life becomes...

The less sense it makes...

I shake my head almost able to reach out and touch my memories...

As if they were yesterday and not yesteryear...

And I wonder...

What if all my dreams were just dreams?

What if the only love that's real is love for kids?

...and kids' love for parents?

What if money really didn't matter?

Why does money matter?

Why does fashion matter to the masses?

Why does fashion matter to me?

What sense does it make to stay in shape?

If dying begins the day you start living, why live?

If there's plenty to live for, what is there to die for?

Or is that just something people ask not expecting an answer?

What is good?

What is bad?

Is there good?

Is there bad?

Does it matter?

I believe with all my heart and soul that God is real,

But after turning on the news for a few minutes or an argument with the wife...

I often wonder where He is...

Why did I work so hard as a child only to ensure an adulthood of internal and external doubt?

Why didn't I marry the first girl I thought I loved?

Better question, why did she have a boyfriend?

Even better, why did I have to find out on my own?

Why is sex the best thing ever and worst thing too depending on who you do?

Who is this woman who calls me Husband?

Who are these copies of me calling me Daddy?

Why in the world would anyone rely on me when I so many days when I can't rely on myself?

How can there be too much of a good thing when lately there isn't enough of anything to go around?

Why does love wreak havoc on the soul until you don't want it anymore?

Why do people fall in love with you when love is the last thing you want or are even ready for?

Why does turmoil bubble inside the soul with no positive place for it to go?

What if when the lights go out on my life forever, no lights come back on at the other end of the tunnel?

What if there is no tomorrow and all of this has just been one very LONG day?

What if I die tomorrow?

Can I honestly say I did it my way?

Life is a strange thing that stays inevitably the same...

I know this and still I question it, some days driving myself insane,

with sleepless nights and worries about woe of which I have no control?

But if the birds of the trees don't worry about a thing

then why do I wonder at all???

I wonder...

How about you?

I'm not the guy with my arms out...

I've been blessed to not suffer from writer's block. But I can be distracted from writing like nobody's business. April was a month that knocked me on my you know what. It was a time of change, some good, some bad. Either way, all of it came together to prevent my brain from focusing that much on Makes Me Wanna Holler.

And here they are in no particular order:

Boxing: Not so much boxing but remolding my schedule to fit that of someone who works out --- intensely. This covers everything from what I've been eating, when I've been eating, what I've taken out of my diet, and when I sleep. I've actually had to start sleeping to get a decent night's rest in order to function. You'd think this would be obvious, but bad habits learned over the last four years of my daughter's life has made the obvious not so clear.

My Wife: As the woman I've pledged my love to immerses herself more and more into her MBA program and starts telling more econ and statistics jokes, more and more of the responsibilities here at home are piling up on me. I've gone from being Dad, to House Administrator. All I do these days is tell little people what to do, drive them around and feel like I'm going in circles in the process. I've even begun to start cooking again --- something I did daily and effortlessly as a bachelor. Now, I've either knock a meal out of the park or I sit at the head of the table with my kids looking at me like, "Why are you feeding me this?" Then once I get everyone to bed I have all the time I need to dig into the pressing matters of my own life. I take a deep breath, crack my knuckles and pass out for the night.

Photography: I booked 3 gigs between the end of March and the month of April. Easy enough on the shooting end, not so easy on the editing end. The beautiful thing about my relationship with photography is that each photo session is leaps and bounds better than the last one, but then I have to still deal with the one before it, trying to exact perfection and spending a lot of time doing it. I'm also building another blog and doing it very very slowly.

The Future: This one comes up daily. I spend a lot of time thinking of my family and what we're going to be doing in the next six to eight months.

My New Smartphone: I am not a proponent of smartphones. Being connected at all times is something I've always dreaded. My wife decided to switch my plan to hers and get me the same new shiny smartphone she has. She told me I didn't have to use all the features if I didn't want to...Like that was going to happen...after a week of staring at the box and holding on to my old phone which was duct taped together, it took all of a day for me to connect my new phone to everything I do online. Now it rings and sends me notifications constantly. And I'm too weak to ignore it.

AAU Basketball: It was my idea to have my son try out for AAU basketball in his age group. I wanted him to play on a competitive level. I wanted him to actually try out for a team. Something he has yet to do at his high school (they just sign up). He made the team, he's practicing two nights a week and playing four games each weekend. Sometimes the games are back to back. Sometimes, there are huge lags of time in between. Sometimes they are all under one roof. Sometimes they are located no less than 20 miles from home. My goal was to wear him out. It didn't dawn on me that the same would happen to me.

My Son: If I ever thought I was running out of material for this blog, all I had to do is sit still for a couple days and let my son simply exist. Over the course of this past month, even with the revelation that he may be learning disabled, this boy has given me enough material to blog about until Father's Day. Just to catch you up: I currently own all his time. His cell phone hours are restricted. And the door to his room is missing (I took it down). Why? Because my son has decided in his infinite teenage wisdom that since he doesn't like school, he's simply going to stop participating in it. He had it all figured out. He'd be social instead. He blamed everyone for his shortcomings --- from teachers to fellow students to that creature named I Don't Know. And then his grades came in. A horrific piece of paper I affectionately call his Concerto in F Flat. Not for lack of understanding, but rather lack of effort as in not turning in homework or showing up to class. And he's become a victim of the very technology (emails and IMs) that led him to believe he could pull a fast one and not get caught. This past Monday I sent out 10 emails to his teachers and received about 20 in return. He's not a bad boy, he's actually pretty well behaved. He's just misdirected. Stay tuned for the redirection.

Stay tuned for the blogging...


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If I have one shortcoming as a father it's that I don't have my kids parked up in church the way I was. I was in every church play. I went to all my church's youth retreats. I attended Sunday School nearly every Sunday. I was an acolyte. And other than going to McDonald's I did nothing but sit around as working on the Lord's Day was forbidden in my house.

Other than being an acolyte, I hated Sundays.

My personal walk in faith has gone through so many twists and turns and taken me through so many highs and lows of my adult life I don't know where I'd be without it. It has been so intensely personal that I believe that it is actually a fault now. Because although my spirituality is no secret to the people in my life, I often conduct myself as if I'm in a secret society (like a frat) that no one but me can be a part of.

My wife and my wife's family have a much more pragmatic view on church, having a spiritual relationship with God, and religion itself. I, myself make the distinction between these interconnected but very different partners. But after listening and observing them over the years I've deemed it absolutely necessary to keep my thoughts and comments to myself.

And this is where I believe I've gone wrong. It's not that I need to preach from the hilltops (this isn't my gifting anyway). But I could do a much better job as Husband and Father to reign in my own little family to expose them to the possibilities so that they can enter into their own personal exploration as I did. I have a son who is stoic and pragmatic and doesn't fall back on that thing that I used to when I knew I what I was getting ready to do was dead wrong because of some scripture I knew. I did it anyway, but I went into it with the conviction that hopefully no one was watching because of what I knew in my heart --- because of what had been poured into my heart --- because my parents sought to facilitate a foundation for me. So that when I became a man and ideas and hopes began to explode, the floor seemingly dropped out, the sky seemingly fell and friends became enemies, I knew where to go: to my knees in prayer; and I knew what to do: stand strong and tall...in the gap.

I believe that because I pray and because I meditate on the things I want for myself and my family things have a way of coming along to assist. Such as a the set of bibles I received from Zondervan, specifically for kids and teens of African American descent. To be honest with you I balk at the idea of Bibles, the Word of God, being stylized for anyone and not everyone. When I go to church I always see at least three women with bibles for women. I don't get it. But that's just me. I don't have to get it. It's none of my business.

My Holy Bible For African American Children (for kids ages 7-10) sports bright and shiny covers that feature smiling children. The pluses: it comes in the version of your choosing (NIV, KJV, etc.); the text is large and easy to read; there are plenty of illustrations and inserts by esteemed artists of color who put their interpretation on biblical times (just as everyone else does); and the pages are pretty durable. The minuses: the book is huge and though I prefer the look and feel of a real book to today's new infantry of electronic books, I personally can't lug around a big clunky bible. My bible (which is currently missing) is slim and sleek, leather-bound with a magnetic flap to keep it safe from bent or torn pages. But the print is microscopic and you can practically see through the paper it's so thin.

Our Heritage Our Faith: Holy Bible For African American Teens is definitely mature and aimed at the tween and teenage set. The good: It's leather-bound and duo-tone with a funky alligator skin embossed surface. The text is smaller and the pages are thinner. The expectation here is that the own will take care of this book. It has photographs, notes and articles interspersed throughout and features a great section at the end which asks and answers the most if not all of the questions a teenage mind might have about Christianity, God, religions and fellowship. The bad: The book is not for boys. On it's face the cover's duo-tone is deep pink and rich lavender. And the box art only has teenage girls on it. The only kind of male who will even glance at this is a father looking to buy a bible for his daughter. No boy will ever consider it regardless of what's contained inside.

The Old Leave Out On The Table Test: I left the bibles out on the coffee table in my living room. My daughter was immediately drawn to the photo art on the kids bible and like the drawings inside. She let me read to her a little bit at bed time, but lost interest quickly because there were no pictures to go along with the words I was reading. My teen noticed the kids one too, completely ignoring the pink book sitting next to it. He began leafing through the pages and asking me questions. A discussion ensued that left me relieved to know that maybe it isn't to late for me to facilitate pouring a few things into his heart.

I'd love to hear your stories (struggles, triumphs, day-to-day) of how you (male or female) instill your values in your household.

Please visit my Facebook Page where I will be giving away 2 of the bibles discussed here.

Disclosure: I received three (3) bibles from Zondervan Publishing for the purpose of reviewing them. MMWH.com was not compensated financially in any way for this review.


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I know it's been quiet here on my blog...

I haven't really been into the blogging thing...which is ironic given the number of giveaways I have backing up. When I was blogging like a man possessed I couldn't pay for a giveaway...

I haven't even had much to blog about in recent days. My new boxing regimen has all but consumed me on the days that I work out. I've lost 6 pounds but gained swollen knuckles and a trick right knee in the process.

My wife is out of town for her quarterly on-campus stay for Business School. The experience has left me ragged this time around with my daughter in school and my son playing AAU basketball. My mom came in to town to help out, but I'm finding myself spending more time than I thought I would making sure she's okay. After all, she's my mom and when I let her, she talks a hole in my head.

Been doing a lot of physical and spiritual spring cleaning, too...

Trying to find/establish a meaningful and consistent source of income has become a downright humiliating process in this new and bizarre America we currently live in. Were I a person who without hope and faith I'd say it was hopeless too. But I am not.

Maybe more important than any of the above or any other reason I could conjure up is the fact that I thought this blog in general was an exercise in catharsis, but it seems that writing about Unsung Stepfathers & Jive Turkeys was the catharsis within the catharsis. Writing that piece rendered me silent but reflective, almost mute. I've been unable to do my usual extrapolation of my life, distilling it down, making it funny, or not, for public consumption. If I looked at the totality of my blog, all 450+ posts and strung them together as one story, then that post was the climax, and now I'm living in the denouement --- that boring part of the movie where the hero is sitting somewhere in a coffee shop talking to the girl your girl (or you if you're a woman) thinks is ugly or walking through a field all bandaged and scarred up but at peace even if his war isn't over.

Is this the end of Makes Me Wanna Holler?

Of course it isn't. My son hasn't stopped any of his teenage antics. My daughter has entered a particularly disobedient phase where in an effort to exact world domination, she defies every blood related adult, but is perfectly obedient in pre-school. Oh and her incessant need to play from the second she opens her eyes in the morning until the moment she closes them for the night. Yeah, that one is unraveling me nerve by nerve. She's still the jewel of my eye, but she is truly testing me. And the wife? I've had plenty of experiences and revelations that will make for great anecdotal advice for those of you seeking and needing it, as I've always believed this blog is about me, but only minimally for me.

And I'm still boxing away that backfat, and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon...La máquina ha vuelto! I am slowly but surely returning to former my in-shape, powerful and healthily focused and deranged self. I even have an acupuncture appointment scheduled to see if I can fix my new trick knee and heavy-daughter-strained lower back.

So I'm hardly done. But as of late I've been unexpectedly silent. And for this I do apologize.

Please bear with me.

Oh and did I mention I'm on Kindle, too? Check me out below.




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There's something to be said about a man who can go on for 5-6 minutes with dead certainty about all the things he wants do to a woman to leave her twisted out, begging for more. There's even more to be said when a sold out crowd comprised of mostly women of every shade and ethnicity (my wife included) is letting out blood curdling screams to affirm every word he says. Even more when a woman in the second row of the New Jersey Performing Arts Center stands up out of her seat, reaches beneath her dress, takes off her blue panties (yeah, I was watching from not too far behind) and throws throws them on stage at the man.

[Interesting to note: I knew a few people there - a college buddy who recently proclaimed herself a "Maxwell Groupie" didn't have a ticket but somehow managed to get a seat closer to the stage than I did. I just learned the panty-tosser was someone I happen to know also through the blogosphere. Several of my wife's friends were scattered throughout the theater going crazy, as well. This world is just too damn small.]

That was my night last night at NJPAC's Maxwell concert.

If you've never heard the man sing, well he can sing his a#$ off. I remember when he first hit the scene, my best friend remarked, "Why's he rollin' all around on the floor like that? He's a freak!" referring to the video for his song Ascension. I think she was in love with him two days later and has been ever since. A breakout artist from the mid-90's I've been to all his concerts and although last night was really, really good, nothing beats his first tour when I saw him at Radio City Music Hall. The show opened with Zhane (pronounced "jah-nay") and he had this staircase stage thingy going on. He began his show silhouetted with his back to the audience. I thought I was going to pass out. Not because I was in love with him (although I'm not above the occasional man-crush) but because the energy that emanated from this man before his show even began was immeasurable. Plus, the white, Paul Smith suit he was wearing was bananas, meaning insane, meaning on point, meaning if you had the balls to rock a tailored white suit, that was it.

Last night Maxwell did a couple of things that stayed with me. He kept telling everyone he loved them. He encouraged anyone in the audience who's trying to accomplish their dreams to keep trying. He also thanked everyone for being so receptive to his passion for making good music. He went on to thank us for allowing him to share it with us.

How inspiring is that?

These last few days have been very tough for me. My battle with the unemployment blues has turned ugly as this monster that faces me everyday has gotten considerably stronger and merciless in his dealings with me. It's not about money (it is, but it isn't). I'm fending off self-destructive thoughts that are beginning to tear down my self-esteem brick by brick and keep my frozen in my tracks --- depressed and unable to do any of the things I want and need to do.

Even though I wrote about Maxwell in the post, 'Til The Cops Come Knockin' over at BlackAndMarriedWithKids.com today, I decided to write about Maxwell here because about an hour ago the desire to write overcame me. My writing has never been about me. I sit down in front of a piece of paper or a keyboard and minutes later something's is down for me to edit. Beyond the physical I can't take credit for my words, the inspiration comes so fast and intense that it can only be the hand of God, my higher power, resting on my shoulder (or my bald head). There are days that I grumble that I don't make a thin dime or even a red penny off these posts that I churn out like pastries in a bakery. But it's not about me. I'm not even sure if it's about you the reader. This is one of the gifts God has given me, so while I have it, I'm honoring him by putting my best out there in this thing that I do.

I want to thank all of you who read here. Thank you for subscribing (if you subscribe here). Thank you for your comments. Thank you for allowing me to share my occasional two cents with you. I also want to encourage you. If there's something that you love to do, and even the things you don't...do it to the best of your ability and with all your strength. There's really no reason not to. It's not about that boss, coworker or ungrateful client. It's about you and what you're putting into the universe.

You're guaranteed to go nowhere half-stepping it through life, but sky's the limit when you choose otherwise.

By the way, check out some of Maxwell's music below. If you've never heard of him and crooning is your thing, you'll love this guy.

Again, thank you.


BLACKsummersnight


Maxwells Urban Hang Suite



Picture Source: Denver Post

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I take it personally when anyone leaves me (this blog). I shouldn't at this point, however. I've stuck with this for a while (my longest stint ever with a blog) and seen quite a bit. Not to mention, I stop following people myself.

In the midst of all this I've created quite a little stockpile of ways to hang out here with me and check out the stories, pictures and happenings in the life of a random black dude with some random stories about his wife and kids. It's parenting and husbandry 101 because I'm learning every step of the way and loving the feedback from YOU the reader.

The following is a list of ways to get your daily/weekly dose of Makes Me Wanna Holler:

SUBSCRIBE - this is the most direct way to stay on top of things here. You can subscribe by email and get brand new posts sent directly to your inbox or if you have a feedreader (most browsers do at this point) such as Google Reader you read me there.

GOOGLE FRIEND CONNECT - in the right hand column of this page you'll see a bunch of profile pics sandwiched together. Those are followers who receive updates of when I publish posts. As a Google Follower you can click on the title and voila! You're here at Makes Me Wanna Holler.

TWITTER - I started on this a while ago but only recently did I "get it". If your tolerance and attention span only allows bits of information in doses of 140 characters at a time, then you can follow me here.

FACEBOOK (Network Blogs) - If you're on Facebook and you're into blogs, then this is the place for you. You don't have to leave their site to visit me, you can vote on stories you like, check out all the other amazing blogs on this service, and even leave comments, such as the gentleman who told me he loved my blog and in so many words went on to say I was a credit to my race...he meant well, God bless his heart.

FACEBOOK PAGE - If you're on Facebook and ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to download another application onto your page then you can read my updates and get in on discussions here with absolutely no strings attached other than clicking, Become A Fan.

KINDLE (NEW!) - The supposed wave of the future and eventual death of the brick and mortar publishing industry has launched a subscription service for blogs. For those in the Kindle set this is the place for you! As this just launched I'm not sure what the outcome of this will be, but I'd rather be in on the ground floor than clamoring to get a seat on the pile a week from now after Oprah endorses it.

If you're a regular I hope I haven't bored you. If you're new to the site, I hope you'll stick around.

Peace.

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