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11 April, 2007

WITHOUT CEREMONIES OR REWARDS: MR. RAY X. JOHNSON

Surviving & Struggling
To provide for seeds
Soiled in futile fields
We be men of responsibility
Without Ceremonies or Rewards

Even in distances peeking
Fathers of children
Have to keep on reaching
& despite the circumstances
Keep on seeking
Those loving relationships
That reverberate
I care about you deeply,
Because now
Is the time for being
A part of the lives needing –
Fathers
& not suppliers of pain
Promising tomorrow,
Between tired verbals
& tear stained sorrows
That children swallow
Unnecessarily,
As the bio-clock churns
Ever so steadily
In Search of Fatherhood . . .

Striving & Struggling
To provide for seeds
Soiled in fertile fields,
We be men of responsibility
Without Ceremonies or Rewards
Needed . . .
To validate our presence
For being.
___________
Ray X. Johnson
© 24 December 1999
[Published With Author’s Permission]

MR. MARK PRATT: THROUGHOUT LIFE

[Published With Author’s Permission]

I go through life, wondering what's my use
what I was put here for,
I get depressed, why the stress?
I am healthy, and strong.
But I am still feeling down
I look at my son,
His smiles when he sees Daddy
I say
Thank you Lord.
Thank you Lord,
for taking me through this journey
thank you for your grace, love and care.
Throughout my life, I have doubted your love.
Didn't give you what you deserve.
You continue to bless me, everyday that I rise.
My son showed me that you will never leave me
you continue to protect me, family, friends and my loved ones.
Throughout life we have our cross to carry.
I will continue to carry mine
I am inspired
My son is always happy to see daddy
His love is pure, he knows I love him
I feel him staring at me when I am not looking
He doesn't stop staring at me until we make eye contact
then he bursts into laughter.
These are the days to treasure.
I have seen and heard of children being abandoned, wounded and killed
by their parents.
These children are babies -- they don't know how to help themselves.
Yet we hurt them.
They didn't ask to be here,
some are planned, most are not.
what if our parents gave up on us?
We wouldn't exist to share love and life.
A lot of us are so caught up in material things
we fail to see the simple things in life.
Throughout life I have seen where the people with the most,
those with all the riches, go through hell
sickness, despair, drugs, everything that's not healthy.
Their wealth couldn't and cannot help.
So love each other, your kids, family and friends each day.
Don't wait, live through a baby's eyes and heart.
_______________
Mr. Mark Pratt is a “First-Time” Dad; the Publisher and Managing Editor of NEW GENERATION DAD (www.newgenerationdad.com) , a magazine which speaks to the interests and needs of all Dads; and a Contributing Editor to IN SEARCH OF FATHERHOOD®, a quarterly international male parenting journal exclusively published by BSI International, Inc. and distributed in the United States and The Netherlands. Mr. Pratt can be reached via e-mail at mappi1027@yahoo.com

DR. DOUGLASS CAPOGROSSI: WORDS OF WISDOM FROM INMATE FATHERS

[Published With Author’s Permission]

One error that is prevalent in our culture is the characterization of all ex-offenders as wholly unfit for the challenges of parenthood. We are led to believe that male inmates are incapable of learning the ways for effective fatherhood. We seem to feel they have neither the interest nor the moral character to uphold the responsibility of a “decent father.” The media and entertainment industry actively support this stigma to the point where even the word “inmate” raises thoughts of danger, mean-spiritedness, abnormality, abuse and violence.

Fathers who have their freedom are unable to understand the loneliness, sorrow and emptiness experienced by inmate fathers, as a result of being isolated from their children over long periods of time. They are unquestionably at a disadvantage as fathers, no longer being physically with their children, missing the daily joys of fathering. Being characterized so negatively, they appear to grieve continually.

It is true that there are men in our society that are unworthy of fatherhood because of the physical, emotional and sexual abuse they inflict upon children. In spite of the fact that some fathers have turned their backs on their children, I have observed evidence that inmate fathers persevere in their desire and capacity for fatherhood.

As a parenting teacher for inmates, under contract with a prison facility in the State of Hawaii over the past three years, I have become increasingly aware of the depth and strength of character of many of the men I have served. I am an educator with high expectations, requiring much from my students, academically and morally. In my thinking, overall, the inmate fathers have risen to the challenge, expressing competencies in character, intention and motivation.

The major responsibilities of parenting are addressed in my program. This includes the more difficult issues such as changing a child’s negative behaviors, using effective discipline, caring for the emotional health of the child, helping the child adopt effective habits relative to nutrition and physical fitness, and helping a child succeed in school. In addition to the classroom presentations and lectures, my students cover extensive independent reading and participate in group projects and challenging classroom discussions. They complete a number of written assignments, including personal journals, short topical papers, and an overarching final examination.

The men who participate in my class are slated to return to their families and communities within the next two to three years. Before release, they must successfully complete a number of mandated programs, including cognitive skills training, adult basic education, various therapies and transition preparation programs, and parenting. These mandated correctional programs are understood to be directly related to the success of inmates in their transition back to the community, although extensive hard evidence of this relationship is yet to be gathered through research.

To support my assertion that incarcerated men demonstrate the character necessary to do well as fathers, I have selected the following evidence from their written work. The statements are presented with permission from the inmates and the institution.

Words of wisdom from inmate fathers

“My parents’ way of bringing me up was a way that no child should go through. I got hit all of the time. I learned all that I know on my own…self-taught…I learned the hard way…on my own. To be a good father, I must remember where I came from and what I went through…because I don’t want my children to go through what I went through.”

“Being there for my daughter is one of the main things I promised I would do, and not being there for her now…really hurts.”

“Controlling your temper, as a father, is one of the most difficult and important tasks you face in being an effective parent.”

“Anger and rage makes your child scared of you…they don’t feel close to you…they get pushed away emotionally…so they find other alternatives…like running way, getting involved with alcohol and drugs, sex and foul music. Keep your kids close…build an unconditional love relationship with your kids.”

“Give your child guidance, love and affection.”

“Practice patience…because it takes a lot of patience to raise a child.”

“Children remember the positive statements we parents say to them...and they play them back over and over again in their minds.”

“It’s important not to criticize and ridicule.”

“Be humble, keep your head on the right track and be positive.”

“Pay attention when your children talk to you. Get down to their level and really listen. Be clear when you are talking to them…stop what you are doing…try to be understanding.”

“If you listen, they may open up to you, and you will get a better understanding of what they are feeling.”

“The foundation of all discipline is love.”

“Don’t put down your child…too much negative can have lifelong effects.”

“I plan to put more loving, caring, and positive thinking into my daughter.”

“Laughing with my children will help them build laughter within themselves.”

“Discuss with your child how you’d like him to behave…then ask how you can help …with the reward being everyone’s happiness.”

“For better or for worse, my children learn from my example.”

“Hold as your motto…I love you, no matter what!”

“Give respect by showing respect.”

“Praise them more…for the good things they have done.”

“Give them words of encouragement and be generous with praise.”

“Don’t miss their childhood, really be there for your children.”

“Let your child know you are there for them no matter what...make them feel safe…and keep the line of communication open for them.”

“I send each of my children a card telling them in different words that Daddy loves them and always thinks of them and that everything is going to be okay.”

“I will always allow my daughter to dream…dreams do come true.”

“Let them know that helping others is a good practice…with rewards in the long run.”

“I hope to show them that I was wrong for what I did…and that I rightly paid for my wrong decisions.”

“Show them that they are loved.”

“Let them know your heart.”

“Work hard to build a positive emotional bond with your children.”

“Keep your promises and stick to your words.”

“Let them see and feel your love.”

“Tell them about God’s plan for their lives.”

“Teach them love…pray with your children…teach them the Bible diligently, study with them, teach them charity and self-discipline.”

I was not able, in the space of this article, to include all of the statements of value I received from my students. Those provided above are a good representation of the successful outcome measures from my class. I am proud of their openness to learn new ways of thinking and behaving and I am impressed by their willingness to investigate a more effective approach to parenting.

However, my inmate students were not just taking me at my word, passively sitting; I could not permit that. They were genuinely inspecting and challenging the new ideas, reflecting upon their own philosophies of life and reconstructing the meaning of fatherhood as a group. I was so very much impressed by the quality of the character revealed within the class, but more so by their strength as a group. Imagine my delight, as they moved from being just a gathering of male inmates …to being a true gathering of fathers.
_______________________________________
Douglass Capogrossi, Ph.D. is a part time correctional educator under contract with the State of Hawaii Department of Public Safety. His experience includes development and instruction of parenting and transition programs, and adult basic education programs. Dr. Capogrossi serves as the President of Akamai University, a distance learning institution, favoring mentorship as the model of education and dedicated to the betterment of the human condition. Akamai has established a Men’s Studies and Fatherhood Program designed to serve the needs of professionals that work with fathers and the needs and rights of men worldwide. http://www.akamaiuniversity.us

A COLLECTIVE MESSAGE TO DADDY: MRS. MELDA BEATY

[Published With Author’s Permission]

The nightmares are back. They are not the nightmares where I’m sweating profusely and looking over my shoulder while running for my life. Nor are they the nightmares where some ominous figure is trying to kill me for reasons I can’t remember. No, I’m talking about the recurring ones I’ve had for the past nine years, where instead of running I’m confronting him, the ominous figure I call “daddy.”

The reasons for these nightmares are all too familiar. I want to know WHY? Why has he neglected his only daughter­­­ ­– his first-born? Why has love failed to teach him to show me love in a way that nurtures, reassures, protects, and more importantly, keeps its word. In each nightmare, I’m no longer a scared little girl afraid of daddy, but a hurt and irate woman in desperate need of answers.

It would be easier to rationalize our relationship if I could blame it on a) I was the product of a single family home, b) I never knew my father, c) He went to work one morning and never returned, or d) He was deceased. The truth is my brother and I were the exceptions to the typical single parent households on Chicago’s Westside. We were privileged to live with two college-educated parents from the south, who migrated north in search of a more prosperous life for their family.

During my pre-teen years, my father was an integral part of my life. He checked homework, served on the PTA, and attended all family events. He was Daddy. It was only when my mother had enough of the rising crime rate that we relocated to the suburbs for my high school years. My father was reluctant to move, despite the changes in the neighborhood.
His faith in the resurgence of the all-black Westside community far outweighed any “better life” the suburbs could offer. As a result, his heart and dreams refused to leave and any involvement in his children’s adolescence was no longer a priority.

By the time I left for college, the deterioration of my family structure was well underway. I convinced myself that the problems between my parents had nothing to do with me and that our relationship would survive. Well, after four years in college and not a single phone call or visit from my father, quickly shattered that belief. If I couldn’t rely on the one man in my life that called himself “daddy,” then how in the hell was I supposed to begin to rely on total strangers? Time and experiences answered the question for me…you don’t.

As a result, I along with many countless black women have engaged, and do engage, in unfulfilling, unhealthy, and distrusting relationships, because something was and is missing in our lives that reminds us we are worthy of better. The love of a father is the “balm in Gilead” in a young girl’s life, and there are fathers who would lay down their lives for their children. These loving fathers free us from the bond of desertion and emotional neglect that plagues our community and defeats our children.

I tried to reconcile my relationship with my father more times than I can recall. I’ve needed him to comfort my broken heart or just follow through on a promise he made. Each time he responded with neglect. It takes its toll after awhile. I have to believe that one time in my life I was daddy’s girl and that daddy’s girls do exist for black women. I tell myself this when the truth about our relationship becomes too heavy for my heart to hold. I tell myself this with the hopes that maybe one day the nightmares will end.

In 1996, when I wrote a letter to my father the nightmares ceased. It was my attempt to release some of the anger, hurt, and disappointment that I harbored for so long. The power of my pen became my voice. I never mailed the letter; however, it sparked my interest in the experiences of other black women with similar childhood stories. I wanted a forum where we all could share how our daddies influenced our lives and helped us to become the women that we are today.

I set out to collect our letters, essays, poems, and journal entries and compiled them into a book, My Soul to His Spirit: Soulful Expressions from Black Daughters to Their Fathers. It is the first book that allows black daughters to celebrate, cry, question, understand, and more importantly heal themselves in light of their relationship with their fathers. Women from all over the United States heard the call and rushed to have their stories told. Their stories speak to fathers they cherish; fathers they miss; fathers they never knew; fathers they forgive; and fathers who are no longer with us. Although each woman and each father is different in their own unique way, the message is the same; little girls need their fathers, and here are the top 10 reasons why:

10. To restore our faith in our Black men
9. To never have to feel like we are easily left behind
8. To know perseverance and strength
7. Protection
6. To break the cycle of dysfunctional relationships that plagues our community
5. To love ourselves
4. We need to know that true love is possible
3. You are the standard by which we judge all men
2. So we don’t fill your void with others
1. Because we love you.
______________
Mrs. Melda Beaty is the author of a groundbreaking book, My Soul To His Spirit: Soulful Expressions From Black Daughters To Their Fathers; an educator and lecturer who has taught, among other things, English at several universities that include Northwestern University, Illinois State University, Heartland Community College and Olive Harvey College; and a Contributing Editor to IN SEARCH OF FATHERHOOD®, a quarterly international male parenting journal exclusively published by BSI International, Inc. (www.bsi-international.com) and distributed in the United States and The Netherlands. For further information about Mrs. Beaty’s work, visit her website at www.mysoultohisspirit.com. Or send her a note via e-mail to melda@mysoultohisspirit.com.

MR. DON MATHIS: CHILDREN THAT BELONG TO OTHER MEN

There's too many men raising up children that belong to other men.

Adoption is one thing, a court ruling is another.
It takes a child away from his birth father.
Sometimes the daddy of the mommywill have the little baby more often than the daddy.
Wednesdays and weekends are not enough to see him,not enough to know him, not enough to show him the meaning of his kin.

Or the child's step-fatherwill have the step-daughter more often than he ought to.

While the natural-born Dad grows bitter and madthat the little girl he had is living with that man.
And then, there's the 'other.' You know, Mom's new lover.
How I envy his time with that child of mine.
I want all you guys to tell your wivesand the women in your lives what may be a surprise:

There's too many menraising up children that belong to other men.

Give the kids a break. Don't hesitate.Give some time to Daddy before it's too late.
A child without a fatheris like an otter without water.
To reach their full potential and self-actualize,Kids need their Daddy and not some nearby guys.
The growth that comes between a father and a sonis a two-way street; It makes a life complete.

No one can love a daughter like a birth father.
It can do no harm to promote that bond.
There's too many menraising up children that belong to other men.
As a general rule kids are at schoolmore often than they're in Dad's hands.
Television by the hour have the children in its power.Or a drug is the drug of choice rather than a father's voice.

The streets will soon become full of teen-aged boys with guns.And teen-aged girls with babies will wonder who are their kid's daddies.
It takes more than courage to raise good men.
How's a girl supposed to know if a boy is good enough to be a father to her child unless she had one while she was growing up.
A good dad has values that a boy can choose. A bad role model is difficult to follow. A boy may holler, "I don't want to be like you!"

Either way, they can have their say.But what kind of influence lies in father-absence?
When father-figures and nearby guys are all they've known all their lives,Is the consistency constantly there?Do the kids know who really cares?
A Daddy does! Not a seed supplier. A Daddy does! Not a pay provider.

There's too many men raising up children that belong to other men.
A boy may see his teacher, a scout leader, or a preacher,more often than he can see his father's family.
This is not right! This is unjust!Maybe okay for some, but not the rest of us.
I want all boyfriends to tell all girlfriends,and all second husbands to tell all women:
There's too many menraising up children that belong to other men.

Some women cause such alienationthat America is becoming a father-less nation.
These women will deny that there are fathers that cryfor their children and they, for him.
These women may wishthey need a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
They don't realize the men they criticizeto their children, are essential.
They see nothing bad for a child without a dad.
If Mom's boyfriend at the time is child-friendly, well, that's fine.

But they have yet to discoverwhat the future will uncover:
There's too many menraising up children that belong to other men.

▪ Don Mathis ▪
© 2002
[Published With Author’s Permission]

CHILDREN'S CORNER: JUSTIN'S WORLD

When your child looks at the world, what does he or she see? What does your child think about? What does your child dream about? When your child talks to you, what does he or she talk about? Do you listen – really listen?

In this segment of CHILDREN’S CORNER, we are going to give you an opportunity to find out what one young person thinks about, dreams about and talks about. We’d like you to meet Justin. He is a precocious three-year old who has a lot to say about a lot of things. If there are any pre-schoolers in the house, you may want to introduce them to Justin, too!

Welcome to ....

JUSTIN'S WORLD

Hi! My name is Justin. I’m three years old and I go to pre-school. I don’t know what pre-school is. All I know is that it’s a place where I go during the week and where I spend most of the day. And when my Mom and Dad talk about this place where I go during the week and spend most of the day, they call it ‘pre-school’. Other children who are the same age that I am are there, too. They are my friends. I like pre-school. I have fun. I get to do a lot of things at pre-school. I learn things. Our teacher – Miss Jones – teaches us the alphabet and how to spell. And she even teaches us how to count. But I knew the alphabet before I went to pre-school. I knew how to count before I went to pre-school, too! My Dad used to sing the alphabet song to me when I was little and he taught me how to count! Well, I’m still little now, but you know what I mean. My Dad said he used to sing the alphabet song to me when I was really small and had to sleep in a crib.

I am going to say the alphabet for you now: a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, i, j, k, l, m, n, o, p, q, r, s, t, u, v, w, x, y, z.

How’s that?

And I can count, too.

I am going to count for you now: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100!

But that’s not all! I know how to write the letters of the alphabet. I learned how to write the letters of the alphabet before I started going to pre-school. My Mom and Dad taught me! Do you know how to write the letters of the alphabet? Let’s play a game. Let’s call it the “Write The Alphabet” game. I have already written the letters of the alphabet in small and capital letters. I left a blank line next to each letter of the alphabet so that you can write the letter of the alphabet that is next to the blank line. Ready? Get set! Go!
.
A _____ a _____ B _____ b _____ C _____ c ______

D _____ d _____ E _____ e _____ F _____ f _____

G _____ g _____ H _____ h _____ I _____ i _____

J _____ j _____ K _____ k _____ L _____ l _____

M _____ m _____ N _____ n _____ O _____ o _____

P _____ p _____ Q _____ q _____ R _____ r _____

S _____ s _____ T _____ t _____ U _____ u _____

V _____ v _____ W _____ w _____ X _____ x _____

Y _____ y _____ Z _____ z ______


Wow! That was fun!

Did I tell you that I know how to write numbers? My Mom and Dad taught me that, too! Let’s play another game. Let’s call it the “Can You Write Numbers From 1 to 100?” game. Can you write the numbers that are missing on the blank lines? Let’s see. Are you ready? Get set! Go!


1 _____ 3 _____ 5 _____

7 _____ 9 _____ 11 _____

13 _____ 15 _____ 17 _____

19 _____ 21 _____ 23 _____

25 _____ 27 _____ 29 _____

31 _____ 33 _____ 35 _____

37 _____ 39 _____ 41 _____

43 _____ 45 _____ 47 _____

49 _____ 51 _____ 53 _____

55 _____ 57 _____ 59 _____

61 _____ 63 _____ 65 _____

67 _____ 69 _____ 71 _____
-
73 _____ 75 _____ 77 _____

79 _____ 81 _____ 83 _____

85 _____ 87 _____ 89 _____

91 _____ 93 _____ 95 _____

97 _____ 99 _____



If you were not able to write all of the missing numbers, don’t be upset. Just keep practicing. Keep working at it. It takes time to learn things – and it takes practice – lots of practice.

Now, let’s see. At pre-school, I have a great teacher. Her name is Miss Jones. She always has something happy to say to us. Every morning she has a happy greeting for us. I think I can remember it. I remember it! Want to hear it? Here is Miss Jones’ happy greeting:

“Good Morning. Children,
We are all in our places
with sun shining faces
Oh, what a way
to start a new day!”


Oh! We sing songs in pre-school, too. We have a song we sing about our teacher, Miss Jones. I will sing it for you:

“Two, four, six, eight!
Who do we appreciate?
Miss Jones! Miss Jones!”


Do you ever think about what you would like to be when you grow up?

Maybe you’d like to be a teacher. Or an astronaut . . . a lawyer . . . a scientist . . . a college professor . . . a policeman . . . a fireman . . . a nurse . . . a doctor . . . a plumber . . . a mechanic . . . an engineer . . . an artist . . . an architect . . . a senator . . . a poet . . . or even the President of the United States.

I think a lot about what I would like to be when I grow up. I can’t make up mind yet what exactly I’d like to be. When I figure it out, I’ll tell you. How’s that?

Well, I’m getting sleepy. It’s time for my nap. I had fun talking to you! Bye!

THE WEEKEND: A TRUE REFLECTION OF A FATHER'S MONTHLY VISIT WITH HIS CHILDREN AFTER DIVORCE

By: MR. PATRICK SCHMITT
[PUBLISHED WITH AUTHOR’S PERMISSION]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following article is dedicated to my loving wife Judy, my three children and my sister Molly. There is absolutely no way that I could have coped with this traumatic part of my life without them. I question whether I would still be on this earth if it hadn’t been for my family’s love and support. Unfortunately, because they were always there for me, they too were victims of the emotional trauma involved in this situation.

It’s Thursday night and the third weekend of the month is almost here! The most important weekend of the month. The weekend that I get my kids! I feel like a kid going to Disneyland, I’m so excited! Wait! Will my ex wife call and cancel again like she did last month? My sister offers comfort by telling me to try not to think about it and that everything will be fine. My anxiousness is held “in check” by the very realistic chance that she’ll cancel again. It happens a lot. I am beginning to get that sick feeling again in my stomach. I don’t want anything to get in the way of seeing my kids! My “ex” better not call and cancel. Now I know what it feels like to be executed, waiting for the switch to the electric chair to be pulled. There’s only one phone call that will destroy me tonight and I can’t quit worrying about it. Each minute that passes, I am waiting for the phone to ring, to cancel the visit again. I can not make myself focus on anything else. I can’t wait to see them, but I am overwhelmed with worry that the visit will be cancelled for some reason. It has to happen this week, I can’t wait for another week. I find myself more consumed with worry about the “cancellation call” than my feelings of excitement to see my kids. I can’t help it. As I sit there and watch the clock, then the phone, then the clock again, the night drags on forever. With each hour that passes, the anticipation and worry builds. Why do I put myself through this? I really do understand why some Dad’s say: “Screw it.”

Whew!! I made it through Thursday night. She hasn’t called yet. She’s only got a few more hours to call and cancel before it’s too late and I’ll be on the road. I’m at work, but my mind couldn’t be farther away. I feel like I have to fight every day just to be involved in my kids’ life. I’m so sick of this. The daunting task of enduring 15 more years of this crap is too painful to even think about right now. How can I do this? Fifteen more years of lies, hate, manipulation and loss of control of seeing my kids and loss of control of my life. I keep telling myself to stay focused on one week at a time. I cannot get caught up in the whole 15 year thing,” or I’ll fold for sure. I really should have stayed home today -- I can’t focus on anything.

Finally! Quittin’ time. No cancellation call. I feel 20 pounds lighter now that the weight is off of my shoulders. Now, I can finally shift my attention from worrying about “the cancellation call” to excitement to see my kids. I can’t make that shift until I know for sure the visit won’t be cancelled, it was too painful when it happened to me last month. Okay. I have to plan carefully. If I leave too early and I get to her house before 6, I get nothing but grief and attitude from my “ex” about how inconsiderate I am. When you travel 120 miles, it’s very hard to be precise as to what time you arrive. That doesn’t matter to her. I’m lucky I get to see them at all. I have never been one to back down from a fight or ever let someone intimidate me -- but in this part of my life, my time with my kids helps me endure these situations. I have to force myself to swallow my pride, because if I get “out of line” and tell her how I really feel, I will lose the most important thing in my life -- time with my kids. To be controlled and manipulated by someone who despises me is the toughest challenge that I’ve ever faced.

Okay. Focus! I have a long way to drive. I’ve got 120 miles to go before I see them, I have to stay focused so I don’t have an accident. My emotions are racing. I go from hate and loathing towards my ex-wife to utter excitement to see my kids. Even though I’m so excited, I can’t relax until they’re finally in the car and we’re on our way back home. Maybe if I blast some rock and roll, it’ll help me keep these things out of my mind. Can these people pleeeeze move out of my way?! The normal 2 ½ hour drive seems to take six hours. I am so excited that I can’t get there fast enough.

Finally! I’m almost there. As I see the house, my stomach is starting to hurt again. Why do I let her get to me like this? Why can’t I control this? My emotions go from utter excitement to sickness and worry again. Please God, let her be at work or somewhere else. Please just let me get the kids and be out of here. PLEASE!!!

As I ring the doorbell, I hear little feet scurrying about, getting their stuff together. The door opens. There’s my “ex” in all her glory. Why can’t she be gone somewhere? I am greeted with looks of disgust. How dare I bother her? I mumble a ‘Hello’ and do my best to hide my disgust. Then, from around the corner, comes the two little people that I live my life for. All of my discomfort has suddenly gone away. I feel like sort of a stranger to them, even though I call them every other night, I only see them once a month. I hope they don’t feel uncomfortable because they don’t see me that much.

The sickness in my stomach is going away as we load into the car. They’re finally mine and there is NOTHING she can do to prevent the visit now. We talk about their school, their friends, family and how they are doing. I wish I could meet their friends and visit their school. I want their friends to know who I am. I want everyone to know that I’m trying to be a good Dad. How can I prove that I’m a good Dad? Do my kids think I’m a good Dad? I have to prove myself, don’t I?

On the way out of town, we go to their favorite place to eat. I can’t really afford to take them out to eat, but it’s so important that I create good memories for them while they’re with me. I can’t say no. My guilt overrides rational decisions. If they don’t have a good time with me, I worry that they may not want to come back next month. Oh well, it’s time to get back on the road again, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.

It’s getting late and we’ve been on the road for awhile. I glance over to see that they’re both trying hard not to fall asleep. They try and fight it, but eventually they are overcome with peaceful sleep. As they sleep in my car on the way home, I’m already watching the clock. The minutes fly by, but it takes forever to get home. Well, tonight is shot. They are both asleep and won’t wake up until the morning. The countdown has begun. Only 1½ days left with them.

We’re finally home. It’s late and I’m exhausted from the drive. As I nod off to sleep, I’m already planning. What can we do tomorrow that won’t cost money but will be fun for the kids? Will it be fun enough to make them want to come back and see me again? I need to get a part time job so I have more money to take them to some fun places. We’ll go to the park for sure tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll like it.

It’s Saturday morning. The only full day I get to spend with them. I have their favorites laid out for breakfast. The clock becomes my enemy. It’s already mid morning. Please God, make the time go by slow.

Our time at the park was awesome. I find myself counting down the hours now before they have to go back. She has no idea how lucky she is. My stomach’s feeling sick again. I don’t want them to go. I try and make them their favorites for lunch and dinner. I can’t cook that great, but hopefully they’ll like it.

Well, it’s bath time, then a little TV and then it’s bed time again. Why can’t I keep them awake a little later? I find myself struggling with my own selfishness, but know that I can’t keep them up past their usual bed time. As I recount the day, it is all a blur to me. Time never goes that quick any other day. I can feel my depression creeping back into my body. Tomorrow they have to go back. Sunday is the suckiest day of the month. Then it really hits me, it’s going to be another month before I can see them again. I can’t think about that or I’ll start crying, again. I can’t let them see me get emotional. I don’t want them to think any of this is their fault. I’m getting sick again.

It’s Sunday morning. I have to act like I’m happy, but it’s hard not to bust out crying. Reality is staring me in the face again. We have to leave soon. I can’t have them back late. If I do, I’ll pay somehow, someway, someday. I’m helping them pack up their stuff. It’s just another day for them, but it feels like the end of the world for me. I’m getting that sick feeling in my stomach again, because I know there’s only a few hours left.

Well, I’ve stalled as long as I can. It’s time. We HAVE to go. This time, the 120 miles goes by in a snap. Time seems to be clicking by. Hours go by like seconds. The trip seems to take half the time that the one did on Friday. My emotions are fighting again. I want to take my time getting them back, but if I’m late, there’ll be hell to pay. Oh no, they’re falling asleep again. It’s unfair, but I can’t keep them awake if they’re tired. Don’t they value their time with me as I with them? The car is quiet. I can hear them both breathing heavily, enjoying their sleep. They won’t wake up until they’re back at their mom’s house, so my time with them is pretty much gone. I can’t keep from crying any more, but yet I have to be very quiet so they don’t wake up and feel bad. The weekend went by like a blur. The time I spend with them is so valuable to me. I am so pissed. No one cares if I get to spend time with my kids or not. How am I supposed to make an impact on them if I don’t get enough time with them? The experts say that phone calls, birthday cards and pictures help. Well, what happens when I’ve done all that and it still doesn’t seem to make a difference. I give them birthday parties, presents, calls, pictures, letters, everything I can think of!!! Nobody cares!! Nobody cares whether they see me, remember me or love me.

As we approach their house, I find myself feeling nauseous and hateful again. I have to make myself get out of the car. I have to force myself not to say anything that will “cost” me later. I ring the doorbell and am greeted with the same looks of disgust as before. Should I wake them so I can say goodbye? I feel my emotions taking over. I have to hold it together. I need to leave NOW. I can’t let her see me cry. I can’t let her know she got to me again. My will has never been tested to this extent before. All of this emotion is about to erupt from me, I must leave now.

I’m back in the safety of my car. I can finally let it out. I can’t control my crying. It’s getting hard to see the road so I better pull over here. What is wrong with me? Men aren’t supposed to cry. I am so embarrassed. I hope nobody sees me. I have no control over my emotions. I have no control over my life or my kids’ life. Society and my ex-wife have made sure of that. They are just as much my kids as hers, but you could never tell by looking at my situation. How am I going to make it for 30 more days without seeing them? The last time I asked to see them sooner than 30 days, I was reminded that the kids have their own lives now, with their own friends and family and that it’s enough of a bother for her just to keep the once per month visits. How could I be so foolish? As I drive home that night, reality is sitting in the front seat with me. Nothing can comfort me. There’s nothing I can do to make it better. The next 120 miles will give me plenty of time to ponder these things. The other weekends will come and go. My emotional level will be at rock bottom for the rest of the month. The next weekend visit is too far off to get excited about yet.

But once “the next weekend” approaches, my emotions will begin to crescendo and I’ll get to endure the roller coaster of emotions all over again.

These “weekends” happened 17 years ago. They were the most difficult years of my life. I constantly fought off thoughts of suicide. The only thing that kept me going forward at that time was my kids and my family. I knew how valuable a father’s role was in his kids’ life. I knew, because my Dad died when I was a young kid. I know what I missed out on. And there was no way I was going to let my kids go through what I did as a kid. No way!!! What’s really amazing to me as I reflect is the fact that I would go through it all over again in a heart beat. My kids are that important to me. I compare this situation to riding a bicycle, uphill, for 15 years. It seemed that I could never do enough, never love enough, never call enough. I was always very satisfied with my calling as a father; I was just never satisfied in how I was forced to play that role.

Finally, my youngest turned 18 years old in February of 2003. Since then, we have finally been able to visit at our discretion and my ex-wife could no longer control the visitations. I encourage all fathers to take an active role in their children’s lives, no matter how limited it is. Thank God I persevered. The frustration of always surrendering my beliefs and desires because my “ex” was always “calling the shots”, was almost too much to bear. Society and the courts have believed that mothers are better parents. This belief costs caring fathers valuable time with their kids and/or eliminates essential areas of personal growth for the children in these situations.

All of my heartaches, my efforts, my tears and the thousands of miles I drove over those 15 years have finally paid off. My daughter, who is 20 years old now, moved out of her mother’s home upon graduation from high school and moved in with my family for a year. She now lives within an hour of my home and we see each other at least once a week. My son, who is now 22 years old, is completing his senior year in college and is planning to move to my home town to start a career in law enforcement. Tell me now that it wasn’t worth it all. My family is finally coming back together!!

FATHERHOOD IN THE NFL: MR. SAMUEL McNABB, FATHER OF PHILADELPHIA EAGLES QUARTERBACK MR. DONOVAN McNABB

By: D.A. Sears, Managing Editor -- IN SEARCH OF FATHERHOOD(R)

I don’t remember when it happened. I can’t recall the day or moment. I can’t even tell you why. All I can tell you is that one morning I woke up and discovered that I had become a football fan. Yes, I am a football fan! On Sunday afternoons, for 16 weeks out of the year, you will find me glued to the television screen, watching not only professional football but also the pre-game shows. When you get past the hoopla, the game of football is full of life lessons about discipline, success, failure, setting and achieving goals, and faith. And the men on the football field are more than just quarterbacks, wide receivers, tight ends, cornerbacks, defensive ends and linebackers. They are husbands and fathers. During the early months of 2005, through a collaborative effort with Ms. Paris Nicole Payton, Entertainment Consultant/Manager and Sports Personal Assistant in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, I was able to conduct an interview with a phenomenal gentleman who exemplifies the positive and human side of football. So, grab your favorite beverage, find your favorite chair and check out “Fatherhood In The NFL.” There is more to football than touchdowns, field goals, fumbles, end zone celebrations, megabuck salaries, the exhilarating cheers from fans that can be heard at kick-off in stadiums, and guest appearances on ESPN. There is a human side of football. Many of the athletes in the NFL are fathers who quietly and unceremoniously move their families forward. Out of the range of television cameras and microphones, they go about the business of shaping the minds and souls of their children and empowering and strengthening the communities in which they live and work. Samuel McNabb, President and Co-Founder of the National Football Players Father Association explores the human side of football and parenting from a male point of view. The founder of the National Football Players Father Association, and a retired electrical engineer, McNabb is a husband and father of two sons. If the McNabb name sounds familiar it should. Mr. Samuel McNabb is the father of Philadelphia Eagles Quarterback Mr. Donovan McNabb.

I was extremely curious about the role models that Mr. McNabb had as he made the journey from childhood to manhood.

“My initial role models were Alfred and Marenda McNabb, my mother and father,” McNabb responded. “They were the people I looked to and pulled from for strength, discipline and guidance as I grew from childhood to manhood. I think as children, we learn to believe and confide in our parents if they are consistent in their approach to parenting. As I grew older, there were more prominent men in various walks of life that became my new role models. I looked up to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. for his strength and courage to try and change the way people were oppressed and abused for trying to enjoy what this country claimed to be free and available. My next role model was Earl Graves, the CEO of Black Enterprise Magazine – another pioneer who worked hard to unite businesses of all nationalities to help build his business and make his vision a reality…these two men have been instrumental in developing my community and business interests that I presently work in.”

McNabb says that many of these characteristics learned from his parents were passed down to his children, very early in life.

“As a father of two young men – one being a high profile professional athlete – I adopted many of the techniques that my parents used on me to discipline and guide my sons through their journey from childhood to manhood,” he said. “Many people commend my youngest son, Donovan, on his ability to handle pressure and adversity as a quarterback in the NFL, but I know we prepared him for this at an early age,” he said. “When you teach your children how to be respectful to get respect you eliminate selfishness and instill humility.”McNabb says that he is appreciative when he sons say that he and his wife are their role models.“Everything should start at home and we know they have bought into our method of parenting,” he said.

McNabb adds that having a complete family structure, with both mother and father present, creates a vital balance in starting and establishing relationships. These are things he had to learn when finding a mate to spend his life with. This advice, he received from family:

“I was always told to be selective in whom I chose to live with. My father wanted a daughter-in-law who desired to build her own family that included grandchildren. My brothers and sister were good at helping me to understand what dating entailed,” he said. Collectively, they wanted both my mate and I to learn how to continually love and trust each other unconditionally and build our lives upon a spiritual foundation that would instinctively teach us how to appreciate and care for each other and the children that we would later be blessed with.”

I then asked Mr. McNabb if he was given any advice about fatherhood. Who told him? What was he told?

McNabb recalls his experience as a new father “a frightening reality,” and says he reached out to his own father for guidance.

“I remember many conversations starting with asking my father what I should do to be a good father and when was the best time to implement discipline and guidance to ensure my children would accept my parenting techniques,” he said. He recalls his father’s ability to “give you a certain look to convince you it was better to accept his decision rather than challenge him.” He says he and his siblings were groomed to react to his first request. “Very seldom did he ever have to repeat himself when we were to do something.”

Such traits are ones that McNabb, too, learned and used in his parenting. Other men he sought for advice included older male relatives, friends, his pastor, fellow fathers, books and later on in life, seminars. His father-in-law also played a role in helping him development of becoming an understanding father. This was exhibited through patience his father-in-law showed him in his early years of parenting.

“He would never tell me that I made a mistake or when I used poor judgment in some of my decisions,” Mr. McNabb remarked. “He would always say how important it was to be more flexible and less rigid in making decisions by listening to your children and learning how to communicate with them as opposed to always dictating to them.”

Such struggles of fathers and sons prompted McNabb to spearhead the creation of the National Football Players Fathers Association (NFPFA) in November 2000.

“It was 1999 when Donovan was drafted at the NFL Draft in New York City when the idea came into existence,” he recalled. “There was another player’s father also invited to the draft who came over to ask me why the fathers did not have an association to work with helping our sons get through the experience of being in the NFL. We later got together to discuss how we could get more dads involved in their son’s lives through an association that would take on the existence of being more than a social group or clique.”

After much thought and conversation, McNabb on the responsibility, becoming the Founder and President and soliciting other men to get them involved as active members.

“As a father of an existing player, I have noticed how unstable and self-centered some of the young men without prominent male figures in their lives are and I have also noticed that they make poor decisions both on and off the field. Most of them take good care of their moms, but definitely have a noticeable void in their lives without a father. We thought our mission and purpose should be inclusive and concise to gain the most support from other fathers, their sons, the National Football League and National Football League Players Association. We simply indicated that we were created to provide guidance support for both our sons and any other professional football players who desired to have a positive male figure in their lives. The NFPFA assists their sons with professional and personal development, maintaining their image, maximizing their potential both on and off the field, assisting in their charitable and community service contributions. They work with partnering sponsors and businesses to provide scholarship opportunities and provide mentoring clinics and college football exposure fairs. We are presently working in both the Chicago and Philadelphia school systems and are hopeful to expand to other NFL cities in the near future.”

What tools should our children – especially our young males -- be equipped with that will enable them to become successful well-adjusted adults?

“Well, ‘tools’ as we know them might be a bit harsh for answering this question,” Mr. McNabb responded. “But if I must use this method, let me say that the first tool I would pull out of my proverbial tool bag would be a hammer. I would use this tool to pound the message regularly into our children that no one is going to hand them anything without a good effort on their part toward becoming sculptured (educated), chiseled (cultured), and sanded or fine tuned. The next tool that I would use to build children would definitely be a chisel to help form our children into the best identifiable form to make them sturdy, strong, considerate and well grounded. The next tool would be a level to make sure that children always keep their balance in making good decisions, being obedient and choosing good friends or peers. This would be followed by a sander he says to “smooth all the rough edges and prepare my children for the finest polish to seal and ensure their success for now and forever.”

He adds that such building should start at homes with parents and suggests other outlets such as friends, relatives and neighboring churches. He says that there has been too much pressure on teachers to equip our children: “Educating is their responsibility.”

Mr. McNabb believes that parents are solely responsible and observed: “Too many children have been given a free pass by their parents to do whatever they please. They have removed the parent and assumed the role of raising themselves as best they can without our involvement. So, the key word to equipping our children will always be accountability.

McNabb suggests taking time to sit and talk as a family. He says this starts the process of “identifying our children’s roles as future spouses and parents.”

What information should we share with our children concerning their future roles and responsibilities as spouses and parents?

“Their learning process starts when they become coherent to our actions and their surroundings,” Mr. McNabb pointed out. “As the old saying goes, ‘The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree’ and that basically means that our children will start to emulate our ways and actions as parents when their time comes. We need to understand that there is no certain age for us to sit down and begin sharing information, instead we must realize each family has to determine the level of maturity of their children before they start verbally explaining the roles and responsibilities of being a spouse and parent.”

Our discussion moved to parenting in the Millennium. We noted that parenting has become more of a challenge than in times past. We asked McNabb to shed some light on why parenting seemed to be more of a challenge.

He said that accountability and responsibility had been altered: “In the past, parents were not trying to be a child’s friend. They understood their roles and accepted the fact that it was better for them to enforce house rules and laws than to accept disrespect and disobedience. Today, mothers want to be best friends and big sisters to their children instead of a parent, and if dads are useless in the house, it’s because they prefer to groom a drinking or smoking buddy instead of a son. Today, parents pacify their children too much with watered down parenting techniques and gifts to prevent them from being upset for reprimanding them. Back in my day, my parents dared you to pick up the phone to call the police. They knew how to intimidate and demand respect from us.”

Mr. McNabb noted that to rebuild, it will take everyone: “It starts in our churches and community. If we can extend our talents to those that are seeking a change, we can begin the process of healing. If we are successful, then one newly healed leader will reciprocate and seek out a new potential leader and before long we will start to correct the errors of the past with a new found vision to excel and aspire.”

* * *

HOUSE OF UMOJA, INC. ANNOUNCES “NEXT STEPS” FOR “READING IS RESISTANCE” COMPONENT OF PHILADELPHIA’ S OBSERVANCE OF NATIONAL MILLION FATHER MARCH

CONTACT:   Queen Mother Falaka Fattah President and Chief Executive Officer House of Umoja, Inc. (215) 473-5893 E-Mail:  falakafattah@aol.co...