Who Really Cares!?

I almost had to be excused for the title on this one. A Marine once said in front of me as a youngster "Who shives a get," to another Marine. You know the military has a code for everything. I didn't think that would be appropriate for a family show, so I cleaned it up for the kiddies.

It's 9-11 a day that most of the world will not soon forget, and a day that some will not think twice about until something of a greater magnitude happens to remind them. 9-11 reminds me of 12-7, it reminds me of people falling hundreds of feet to escape something that they felt they could not bear. It reminds me of pain and grief. It reminds me of some that went through crisis conversion, only to fall away from God once the smoke cleared. However, as crucial as it may be, it also reminds me of a nation that is stronger than any fear. A nation resilient enough to bounce back, and a nation that has overcome more than one tragedy, and does not lie down, but gets up dust off and just keeps getting better. We grow, in size, strength, love, and spirit! We have a president that is bi-racial y'all. Honestly how many would have believed it possible in our life time? I saw American Indians laughing with Asian Indians, White, Black, Latino, humans all gathered together in one place. Muslim, Hindu, Atheist, and Christian, even this imperfect one all gathered in one place to help assure that the world would not view us as a self righteous nation with a self righteous leader. Which brings me to this: if we can overcome the racial hate, religious barriers, and status quos then can't we overcome the arrogance? Not confidence, but arrogance. Racial tensions, and hatred have not gone away, they have just succumb to the greater power of love. Which leads me to believe that the cause of the attacks on our nation was due to arrogance, and ignorance.

I will follow up on the ignorance and arrogance in the next blog, as for tonight, I must meditate, and leave everyone w/ this thought when is it cool to call someone out in public, and when should we pull someone aside as not to offend or unnerve? When should we make a bold stand and when should we just be still? Think on it, pray on it, and make a difference. Love, peace and hair grease, or is it love, grease, and hair piece? At any rate grab your thinking caps and meet me at the forum. Peace, Blessings, and Joy... that real PB&J

Pour Some Sugar On Me

I had awakened and early on Saturday morning, and the days of my being able to crawl into bed with my mom, and pull her eyelids were gone. My attempting such a feat as a teen would land me, as Fred G. Sanford used to say, “Five across the lips,” while shaking his fist at Lamont. Well my mom began dating a fellow that was sort of a bully, and not very kind to put it lightly. And he had been at our house a lot, and the more time you get to spend with people the more you learn about them. He had recently lost his job, started drinking, and was sponging off of my mother. Mom finally saw that he was not the same fellow that she had first met, and asked him to leave. It was not a pleasant ordeal needless to say. But there was one bright spot in his being there. It was another life lesson for me, and has made me a better father, and helped me in the prank business as well!

Our bully had decided to go out for a run bright and early on the Saturday morning that set me off. What set me off was the fact that when he returned he ate the last of my Rice Chex cereal! He just snarled at me, like what will you do about it! Did I mention that he had lost his job? Yeah I thought so. Well I am a man that believes restitution should be paid in full. I am also a very patient soul when it comes to payment, receiving and giving if need be. Well it is better to give than to receive, and it was my turn to give. You can’t eat a brotha’s Chex and then punk him out like that! Most of all you don’t treat a Mama’s boy’s mama with such disrespect! He never gave her money, and he never cooked one meal for her!

Well our friend the bully again was there every day that following week, including the weekend. He went to the cupboard to find the cereal that was purchased without any contributions from his hand, and poured a Jethro Bodine sized bowl of Chex. Used my imperfect Christian Jethro Bowl in the deal again, and my favorite spoon! Did I tell you that he didn’t have a job, and that he hadn’t paid for any of the food that he was consuming!? I did, my bad, OK on with the facts.

He got the milk out of the fridge, again the milk that he had spent nary a dime on, and filled the bowl. Then he grabbed the sugar bowl, and put about five table spoons full on his larger than life bowl of cereal. He sat down and took a bite. Of course I had to stick around because I had grown to be a rather testy teenager. My Granddaddy told me that it took a man to dish out a beat down, and more of a man to stay in the fight and take one. Well I wasn’t going to miss this one, and was willing to take the beat down! He yelled through the house like the house was on fire and told my mom that the cereal was bad. A grown man whining to the woman of the house, the one that he was sponging off of, and had the nerve to wake her and tell her his cereal was bad. I would like to punch him in his grill to this day, for the way he treated my mama! Lord forgive me for imperfect, and unrighteous thoughts.

My mother came out to check on him. He was worse than a two year old, and said, “This cereal is no good.” My mother coming to his rescue began to investigate the crime scene. She checked the milk first. “It’s not out of date, it smells ok,” she took a sip, “it tastes ok.” So then she took some cereal out of the box, “The cereal doesn’t taste bad,” she remarked. So on to the sugar. “It tastes like salt,” she exclaimed.” Wow, probably because it is…” she said holding back tears from laughing hysterically inside! He got up and was ready to kill me, and I smiled as I walked by him with my baseball bat in hand. I praise God for allowing me to be surrounded by friends that prevented me from using another smaller Angels bat on the bully while he was talking trash to my mother. I walked past him straight to my room, and my friend had told his dad that he thought I was going to do something bad. He went into our house, and passed out drunk on my mother’s sofa. I didn’t go to a juvenile detention center, and our bully tried to come back drunk, and promptly got served a butt whoopin’ by the same man that kept me from hitting Juvy. God is too good. All stories should end well, and have a hero. Live the righteous life imperfect Christian, and God will be your hero, and the final chapter will be a victorious one!

Well brothers and sisters, be blessed with a sunny and peaceful Saturday, and give love, as you are loved, and even when you don’t feel loved. For what greater love do we know than the love that was given to us when He laid His life down for us, now that is a man who knows about the beat down!

Peace Blessings and Joy… That real PB&J

The Meltdown and the Wreck

The Meltdown...The last couple of days were challenging. The imperfect one had an appointment with the heavy bag, and again didn't wear gloves, or tape his knuckles. So, now they are oozing and bleeding through the scabs. Nothing major, and not like I haven't bloodied them before. They should callouse again and get thicker. After the heavy bag therapy, I took a journey out and drove the Yota about 20 miles from home. I parked and as I had mentioned before and was just about to dose off. Then I heard some noise behind my truck. I got out to investigate, and to my dismay my right rear tire was flat. To complicate matters I did not have the key for the lock on my spare tire! The lock was super rusty, and it was 1am. So what to do? I tip toed my truck back to town, crawling in low four, and just two and a half hours later... voila... I was at Wal Mart, where I would sleep until 6 am that morning.

The Wreck...Sunshine primarily drives the car, and I drive the truck. Well the car that Sunshine drives is now out of commission as well! She was rear ended yesterday, and called me at work and told me that she was in the car and unable to get out. I went after her in the old peeling booger, our faded and peeling sea foam green Ford 150 company truck. The truck looks like it has leprosy! I drove to the scene of her accident, and saw a female police officer, a lady in a brown pant suit, and Sunshine standing along the guard rail. I drove down the ramp, and circled back and went back up the on ramp going south to go check on Sunny D. Times have been tough for Sunny D, and the imperfect one, but you know even if times are tough you have to be there. My hands are calloused, and maybe even my heart has grown slighty calloused, but you just have to do what's right. I drove past the fire crew, and the DMV workers that all looked at me like what is this idiota doing!? I got out motioned to them that I was with Sunshine, and they just gave a nod and kept an eye on traffic. As I approached the three ladies the officer said, "You must be the imperfect one?" I said yes ma'am, but no autographs at this time please. She smiled and told me that the other lady was at fault, and that her insurance would take care of everything, and asked me what I thought about driving the car home. The lady saw me coming and looked at me like oh Lord, here comes one angry brotha!!! We will call the lady Ms. M. I was walking toward Ms. M, and Sunny D, to check on them when before I could say how is everyone doing...Ms. M said, "I'm so sorry! I am really sorry!" I then asked them if they were both OK. They said shakey but OK. both of them wanted to cry again, and from the looks of it, they had both done a little crying before I got there. I told Ms. M that I was just glad that no one was seriously injured, and that there was no one fatally injured. I could live with having to get a car fixed or a new car, but death would have been no bueno! Ms. M was very nice, and like Sunshine very rattled. They were both shaking. The officer was very nice as well. Stereotyping would not have allowed me to see a little woman, like her being a police officer though. I guess dynamite comes in small packages for a reason! She could probably whip a whole club full of rough heads by herself, but looked like she belonged in a much more delicate environment. Again just a discription, so again please do not label me as being stereotypical. I don't look the part of a Southern Gospel Marketer either. I kill the stereotype! LOL I was hoping not to look the part of a rough head, and the officer was super nice to us all, but she took a couple of good looks at my scabbed knuckles. Although the officer took a look at my hands she never said anything. Everyone has looked at my hands for the past couple of days. I have told my kids that I just didn't realize that I was getting blistered that bad. My youngest son said, "Those are blisters, they look raw!?" My middle son said, "Yeah they look bad!" I was waiting for the officer to ask me something similar, like what happened to your hands? We gathered the goods from the car, and I had Kywy's car seat, the DVD player, and a host of other little items in my hands and the officer handed me the business card for the wrecker service to get one more good look at my hands. Just doing her job I guess. I am certain that she new that it was not from beating Sunshine. The old burger clamps are pretty scabby, it would have left some nasty scars or bruises on whatever or whomever I had hit. Therefore, police woman knew that Sunny D wasn't being abused. The officer said, "Oh I'm sorry I guess I could've handed the card to her" (Sunshine). I told police woman that it was all good. I loaded all of our goods into the front seat of the slimmer truck, and we were on our way back to Scrubville. Money is already tight, and just got tighter! New tires for the truck, and down to one vehicle for sure now. So no free time or late night ventures for the imperfect one, no matter how upset or uptight he gets! This imperfect Christian is bound to boundaries that are obtainable by foot only now. My legs still hurt from forcing them to push a fast paced two miler for the first time in ages. It is a good hurt though!!!

Last of the Fro-hicans!

To and fro, there the hair goes. I have a big event coming up pretty soon, and I want to be stylin' when I go. So today the fro had to go. It was like parting with an old friend. A gray strand here, a gray strand there, Lord just don't let me lose all of my hair. I had to throw that rhyme in there. Well Dawn bought some clippers and gave her first haircut today. She actually did a great job! Got a pretty smooth fade out of the deal that will make my Grandmama happy. She doesn't like it when I shave my head, so today was for her. We are coming up on the 8th Anniversary of my Uncle Flips death, and each year at this time my grandmother feels a renewed pain. You would think that time eventually heals it all, but not all. You just have to figure out a new way to deal with what's hurting. Well the imperfect Christian is one of the Last Fro-hicans branchin' out from the Blackfoot, Cherokee, and Afro tribes. I will have to see how the smooth fade goes tomorrow. Going to a little ladies pool party!

What's In Your Wallet?

People will steal anything! If they feel it has any value whatsoever they will lift it!

Kids are the worlds greatest, and most innoncent thieves. I worked for an athletic retailer, and a baby took some shoes off of our displays on the back wall. He quietly placed them in the cargo net beneath his stroller, and felt like it was all good. He saw mom and dad to it all the time. He was probably 18 or 19 months old, it was hilarious!

Then one day while I was playing basketball at the park, a little fella walked over and picked up my keys. He was about the same age but was Hispanic, so I said "Como esta usted?" For my non-Spanish speaking friends I asked him how he was doing. He just grinned from ear to ear, and continued to walk away with my keys. His dad said in Spanish that he was sorry, and I told him that it was no problem.

No theft has been more adored than when my daughter gets me though! She is learning from the master - her mother! I know what's mine is her's and what's her's is her's, but come on now! A brother has to have a little pocket change. My pop (dad) would say to my daughter, "Hey little girl where's my money?" She didn't know what to say to him at 2, but at 4 she would say, "Oh I got your money!"

Better yet it is even funnier when I pull out my wallet. I lay it down to play ball, or sit it down for whatever reason, and usually get two responses:

1. Man how much money is in there!?
2. That is the thickest wallet that I have ever seen!

For those that see me open it, they just leave it alone. I show everyone that it's a Bible, and no one bothers it. Seriously, I could a couple of C-Notes throughout that little pocket Bible, and leave it on a park bench and a Christian will call out to me, and give it back. I leave it on the same park bench and a non-Christian will either call out and tell me that I have forgotten my little book, or treat it like it's Kryptonite to their Superman!

So when I see the commercials that ask the question, "What's in your wallet?" I can't help but smile! Because without being born-again you have no idea what awesome goodness is truly in my wallet!