Sometimes I wish this blog was simply a notepad so I could really speak on it. For the sake of others I hold back and sometimes diminish the full therapeutic possibilities that I'm sure this experience has the potential to bring...

But then I might not be so motivated to write if I knew I was the only one reading...

Coming into 2010, I wasn't prepared for what was in store for me. It was by far the worst year of my life and it is one that I hope to never cross paths with again. But if I do, hopefully I will know how to deal.

In 2010 I became the villain.

I was ridiculed on Facebook.
I was insulted via text messaging.
I was on the lips and tongues of people who don't know me, nor do I know them.
I was mocked and vilified for my beliefs.
I was castigated for being me.
I was cursed and hated and blamed for everything. Then branded a helpless and less than respectable fool who's only talent is to play the role of the dramatic martyr.
Nearly every word I spoke was twisted into something I didn't actually say.
I spent many days stating, "That's not true."
I spent many more looking in the mirror and asking, "Well, is that true?"
I put one cheek forth only for it to get slapped. Turned the other one forward and it got slapped too.
I begged God for help and got deafening silence for a very long time.
I stopped speaking to nearly everyone I know.
I needlessly shuttered the doors on friendships because I had no idea who my friends actually were.
I became paranoid, not knowing who to trust and not wanting to trust anyone.
Finally I got strong in Him and thankfully let go of it all as best I could.

This isn't to say that I didn't play a role in any of the above. There are always three sides to every story.

While all of this was going on, I learned how to box --- a little. Besides losing a little weight, boxing enhanced my reflexes, taught me to understand my opponents movements, to anticipate where the next blow might be coming from and how to strike with pinpoint accuracy. The boxer's goal is to not get hit, wear out his (or her) opponent, expose their weaknesses and ultimately win, preferably by knocking them out.

The teachings in the ring began to spill out into my life. I began to prance and dance, jab, weave and slip. I studied and began to recognize my opponents movements. They were brazen and sloppy, uncoordinated, filled with boasting and pride, vicious but most importantly, telegraphed.

And after being made to feel as if I was the villain for a better part of the year, I finally decided to become that which I had been called and found myself savoring it. I used my pain over the mess that my life had become as fuel. Maybe it was like the Art of War, though I've never read that book. Maybe I simply began to grow strong by using my opponents weaknesses to my advantage. My opponent quickly became my prey and I began to circle, like the wolf or the serpent, all the while allowing myself to remain being perceived as the less than respectable fool.

I began to see red...blood was in the water. I was ready to strike and make sure my opponent didn't get back up.

But then during a particular thorny session I decided to share all this with my marriage counselor...

"But Eric," he said to me. "There's no turning back from what you're talking about. This isn't some enemy you're talking about. This is your wife. No one will win. Regardless of what is happening right now and I know it hurts...with love you can turn this around. I promise you."

And just like that he cast out the villain (another name may come to mind for some of you reading this). The villain retreated and left me, the broken Man, the proud but doubting Dad and the unsure and quite possibly unloved Husband, behind to put the broken pieces back together. But unlike the movies where the enemy has been routed and the sun shines on all, to this very day challenges continue to erupt around me. I have no closure on this year, no epitaph for the insanity so the pain revisits often. Temptation frequents in its attempts to make me a real villain. I'm in an unfamiliar land and self-doubt comes to me every morning at 3 am, snatching me from sleep and keeping me up sometimes until dawn. This is when I am most prayerful, most humble and most beseeching the presence of the Lord.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me..."

What exactly is tough talk? Is it an activity that separates the men from the boys? Is it gender specific? Is it rough and strong? Or is it simply saying what you mean and meaning what you say?

As a father I've finessed my tough talk from wild, brazen and mostly empty statements to calm, sincere, although often stern, conversational expressions of cause and effect and the subsequent consequences that follow. I try to make my tough talk teachable. This way I will hopefully reduce the need to repeat myself. This works mostly on the kids. I'd wager it has no effect on my wife at all.

Growing up in a yelling household made me a hater of yelling and for that matter a hater of noise. If I had my way I'd be living in an all white beachfront mansion a la Miami Vice with two maybe three pieces of furniture. Whatever. My point is that when it comes to the kids the less often I talk tough, the more serious it is when I do. Kids have this amazing ability to tune out noise once they register what they're hearing as noise. Raising your voice is at times a necessity, but in general I don't want my message to be lost on the kids because they can't get past the yelling. That's just me.

How about you?

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Anyone who regularly uses a computer should now know that Teena Marie a.k.a Lady T passed away on Sunday, the day after Christmas and if the facts are correct, her daughter's birthday. She sent out an ominous Tweet the day before. But for her maybe it wasn't so ominous. Maybe she felt it coming considering she had had a pretty severe grand mal seizure about a month earlier. Only she, God and Rick James know now.

I don't have anything profound to state about my first memories of her music. Like MJ, her music was always there at some relative's party, along with Rick James and Millie Jackson (wasn't allowed to listen to her though). I do recall being in love with her Teena for a little while (I think it was before I set eyes on Apollonia). But I also recall NOT making it a point that she wasn't African American (other than to argue to the death with other kids that she wasn't). My single one time thought on the matter was, That white girl can sang! And that was the end of it.

As a wanna-be DJ running around behind real DJs while in high school the joint below is the one that did it for me and sealed her music in my heart forever --- more than Square Biz or Portuguese Love or that other one that EVERYONE knows and loves. When the beat drops on this song (intro not available in the version below), my heart explodes every single time as if I'm hearing it for the first time.



And then of course there is the Gold Standard for duets (and temperamental love):



And if you should happen to have no idea who I'm talking about and/or have the time to sink your teeth into some good old R&B history the following video is for you:



Another great has been removed from the equation creating a lot more space for I don't know what.

Rest In Peace Teena Marie.

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Because I spent Christmas Eve stuffing my face with jerk chicken I am late posting this. Many of us Christians have lost sight and/or moved away from the true meaning of this day. Sometimes it frustrates me just as it did Charlie Brown so many years ago. It's nice to get a child's perspective on things:



May the joy of the season of giving wash over you like excitement does a wide-eyed child's heart upon waking up and realizing it's Christmas!



From my house to all of yours, Merry Christmas.

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Early on in my daughter's life, her mother explained her anatomy to her.

All of it...

Though I protested, I don't really have a place in the Family of Women and accepted that my wife's actions were for my daughter's benefit. I, on the other hand, opted to refer to my daughter's nether region as "Middle Parts".

Nowadays, I'm on board. It's good to know my daughter can let us know if she has a UTI. But a new complication emerged. For me, that is. My daughter believes we all have vaginas or as told to me by Blogger's spellcheck, vaginae.

A month ago I was getting dressed and my daughter walked down the hall to traumatize me:

"Ewww, I can see your vagina!"

I immediately looked down at my boxer briefs and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw all was in tact and not out of place.

"No, you can't, baby."

"Yes, I can. I can see it through your panties. I can see your vagina!" She was practically singing at this point.

I sighed heavily and said, "I'm not wearing panties. Boys wear what's called boxer shorts," and weakly mumbled, "I don't have a vagina."

"Uh huh, yes you do!"

This wasn't the first time this has happened. I've actually lost count at this point. I usually stand there looking helpless while my wife (if she's within earshot) laughs until she cries.

So nearly five years into my daughter's life here I am doing what I never anticipated: having a conversation, at least once a week, about my daughter's vagina. And when we're not talking about hers, we're discussing mine. And my panties too.

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This morning my 15 y.o. son stayed up with me to watch the lunar eclipse. My wife and daughter slept through a rare spectacle that is scheduled to occur again on 2092. Accepting my own mortality and reflecting on it, I said the following to my son:

"Well, except for maybe your sister, none of us will be around to see the next lunar eclipse unless they figure out a way for people easily live past one hundred."

My son then says, "2092. That's like forty years from now."

I stared into the darkness of my living room waiting, waiting, waiting and waiting.

But there was only silence.

Moments later I spoke. "Shh...I don't think you need to say anything more tonight. God bless your heart."

He says, "Wait, it's only 2010," and begins to laugh. "Leave me alone, it's late."

"Uh huh, instead of Black Ops, maybe I should've gotten you 'Addition and Subtraction' to play on your xBox."

But he did stay up with me. Other than discussing basic math we had a nice time talking while waiting for the moon to disappear.

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It's easy to get caught up in the Holiday Blues...all that's wrong with everything so there's little to no reason to celebrate. Besides who's got the money? But this time of year should be about service. Service other with our time, our talents, our donated items and food, and if possible, money.

The holidays are also about this...


This isn't my child. I just happened to have my camera handy.

Whether yours are little or almost grown, remember the time and if you can't find anything good for yourself then focus on their joy. A little bit will go a long way when it comes to the kiddies. My wife and I have opted not to give each other gifts for the sake of the kids. But I've gone a bit overboard with the decorations and the lighting. Why? Because happiness isn't in what you get, it's in what you give. And seeing my daughter's face light up each time she looks at our tree (and my son thinking I've lost it) is priceless and will live on in their minds after they've forgotten or destroyed the toys they get next Saturday.

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