The meaning isn't as important and the tenor voice pouring our over the background of calm notes played
on black and white keys.
It's a lullaby.
An invitation to nod off into a state of perfect peace and trust.
The song of a father.
I think about the little boy I saw in the cafeteria today. He was thin and wide eyed. Brown eyed. He followed his daddy around amidst the clamour of college kids thinking only of themselves and being late to class.
I also think about a little boy I knew last summer. He was friendly, spunky, athletic, and mature beyond his five years.
Daddy had been gone for a while. He was told that daddy was a bad man who did bad things.
Now, in his case I believe it. I know his situation.
But I've also seen daddy be pushed away and made into a monster when all he wanted was to be there.
For me, my father is one of the only men I trust. I can tell him anything, and I know that he's gonna give me a fair shot at whatever I need to say.
Anything that reminds me of him makes me feel like I'm home- old school Steven Curtis Chapman music, Star Wars, the smell of Eight O'Clock brand Colombian coffee. And any guy I meet that shares a part of his personality seems to be one that I befriend.
Some of the best memories are from so long ago- when my little brother and I could go to work with him.
We
pretended the car was a space ship, and that we could shoot storm
troopers out the windows. We'd go to McDonalds' and get strawberry
milkshakes. And not just in the warm weather.
My brother and I
would go in February- we'd drink our milkshakes while wrapped up in a
giant green and purple fleece blanket that was always kept in the
trunk. Music would be blaring, and the windows would be down as a six
and four year old tried to catch blizzarding snowflakes that gleamed
in the dim highway lights.
I'm sure our mom would have yelled at him.
But we didn't tell.
I'm not entirely sure if I could imagine- or if I even want to imagine- a life without him.
I'd have missed out on some good movies, some good coffee, and I'd have horrible taste in music.
Aside from those things, I'd have no idea what to expect from any man. I'd have no faith. I'd have had nobody to listen to me when I was growing up. What if his presence in my life had been erased and instead I'd been sitting in my room, playing with Barbies for those seven hours? What if instead of having an ear to listen, I'd been left to fend for myself?
I'd probably be a statistic. I'd be stereotypical. I'd be pat of the 40% of American children who live in a home where there is no father. Forty percent. Almost half. Almost half of all the children in America today don't hear the keys jingling in the door just before dinner. Almost half of the little boys don't have an example to follow, and someont to tech them to throw, kick, and dunk.
Almost half of the little girls will never see what a man is.
Hence, the enormous problems we see in today's youth.
Having lived the later part of my growing up years in the city of Akron, I've seen not only families torn by divorce- but ones never whole because of a continued cycle of men not showing their sons how to act, because they left- and the sons and children- and leave. It's not something only prevalent in African- American culture- it's a religious, economical, and mental issue.
With Akron being on the lower end of the economical scale, I'd venture to say that the greater part of my high school graduating class came from a broken home.
The repercussions of it are very clear- I dare say they range from lack of academic motivation, to the number of pregnancies we see in high schools.
Then my mind goes elsewhere- literally. In the last week, I've been in awe of the closeness and interdependence that some cultures and groups have- so I fire up this old IBM at my cold, basement work study job and find out it looks like- once again- perhaps there is a bigger picture.
One connected to the US. (What a surprise...)
With the US, Puerto Rico, Russia, Canada, and the UK floating at the top of the charts, and Ecuador, El Salvador, Chile, Mexico, Italy, Brazil, and Jamaica at the bottom, it puts a more organized spin on divorce.
Why? What are the reasons for this?
Here we have the highest rate. Is it because we are completely founded upon the idea that freedom is the ultimate thing? Women are starting to believe that they don't need men. Men are starting to believe that since women can apparently do anything, they don't need to step up and take charge.
In fact, no body NEEDS anybody.
We don't need friends. We don't need fulfilling relationships. We definitely don't need God.
It's all about me. What I want. The strength I have. MY power.
It's disgusting.
We need each other. We need support, and friends, and love, and faith.
Call me a freaking hippie. I don't care.
And children need two parents.
I realize that this post kinda rambles and isn't totally connected. it doesn't really have a point. Or a message.
But maybe it does.
