Happy Father’s Day

You were born on the Eastern Caribbean Island of St. Kitts and joined the Armed Forces of the United States from the U.S. Virgin Islands (St. Thomas) and then did your duties in Vietnam. You are one of those veterans who seldom speak about your duties in that theater, but I have seen your rusted medals. You then joined the boys in blue in Oakland, California, and then saw fit to bringing me from abject poverty to these cornucopia shores in 1981.

I remember my brothers and I wanting to have a swimming pool and you agreed, provided that we get a paper route; we delivered the Oakland Tribune until we had enough to provide the funds for the pool. I remember being scared to death when we had to deliver over three hundred papers by ourselves because you were unexpectedly called to your real job…but your shepherding got me through.

I remember you teaching me to drive a stick shift and taking me down to the dreaded hills of San Francisco and hearing your constant admonition of, “stop with the jackrabbit starts and don’t burn out my clutch.” I remember once we had finished painting, and, on our way home, you stopped to have lunch at a McDonalds in Martinez, California; when we entered, it seems that because we were Black, some of the white patrons were laughing and making fun at us. You didn’t panic, but you exposed your police badge and revolver and proceeded to let your country mile length of credit cards deliberately be seen by said patrons… whose giggling stopped abruptly.

Being a police officer in California, you knew secrets and I remember you making my brothers and me privy to certain proclivities of certain celebrities long before they came to light. I remember how you had the ability to explain some philosophical concept, and, at the same time on Saturdays, break down your corvette and put it back together. I’ve always had benign envy for you for being an intellectual and also being mechanically inclined and my having no clue in the latter matters. Because of your well rounded faculties, my brother… Louis and I scoured the dictionary to find a word to describe you, and we found one, which was, “Factotum,” (Jack of all trades).  

Those who read this blog must know that you excoriate me all the time when you don’t agree with my take on a given issue… and it is often.  Alas, you are not perfect because I wished that my blogs would scrape the scales from your eyes, especially when it comes to our secular messiah president… and letting you see the light, ala the Apostle Paul’s conversion on his way to Damascus. Dad, I know that you read the blog religiously, whether you are in Georgia, Greece, or Africa - I wish you a happy Father’s day dad and longevity in Christ Jesus.