Kaleidoscope - Nancy Wilson

I have no clue why my mother and father never played this Nancy Wilson record when I was younger, but I just played it for the first time just now, and it is great. I didn't dig her covers of Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine", and Gladys Knight's "If I Were Your Woman", but that's only because the originals were just fine on their own. Those two songs notwithstanding, the rest of this album is just good, old-fashioned fully grown adult music. When I listened to this, I felt like I should smoking a cigar, sipping on something brown, and talking about how things used to be. By the way, this album came out in 1971, overall she recorded over 30 albums between 1959 and 2006, and it is still amazing that this is the first one I've ever heard. I need to work on that.

The first time I saw Nancy Wilson, she was on the Cosby Show doing this (start at the 58 second mark:



And here is Nancy singing, "I'll Get Along Somehow":

Forever, For Always, For Love - Luther Vandross

My parents used to play this Luther Vandross record for two main reasons: One, they loved to dance to Bad Boy/Having A Party (also made famous by that scene in House Party when Kid escaped his father's house), and two, my dad loved to play Luther's version of "Since I Lost My Baby", and then he'd play the Temptations version just to demonstrate how much better the Temps did it (he was right too).

But every now and then after "Since I Lost My Baby" would go off, I'd hear the song, "Forever, For Always, For Love", and I was amazed. Luther was sing loud, then bring his voice back down depending on what that beat did, and the band spent the entire song compliment Luther, slowly building up to a certain point, and abruptly stopping while Luther still sang softly. And every minute or so, you'd hear the bass drop, which sounded great with high-powered speakers. If you ever have the chance to listen to this song with headphones, I highly recommend it, You'll hear the bass (Marcus Miller), drums, guitar, and a flute solo to go along with Luther's voice...oh and did I mention Luther wrote the song too?

I love Lalah Hathaway's version of the song, and i appreciated the spin she put on the song from a female perspective. But Luther's version takes the cake here, and this just happens to be the song I sing in the shower AND it is the song I plan on singing if I ever go on American Idol.

Live At Blues Alley - The Wynton Marsalis Quartet

First off, please read my latest article over at Truth About It. We are doing player recaps from this past season, because as you know, the Washington Wizards season always ends in mid-April.

Wynton Marsalis always holds a special place in my heart. Not only did my father take my brother and I to see him early in his career, but we also got the opportunity to get our picture taken with him, before he became the megastar he is today--or as megastar as a jazz musician can be in this country in 2013.



This Live At Blues Alley record from my dad's collection is special to me for many reasons:

1) It was recorded in 1986 at Blues Alley, and it was released in 1988. In 1986, my family was living in Newtown, CT, and we had to travel to NY to hear Wynton play. By the time he released this album in 1988, we were living in the Washington DC area, and we actually saw Wynton play several times in the infamous Blues Alley. (of course now Wynton acts like he's too good for Blues Alley, and he only performs at the Kennedy Center. )

2) Wynton's band consisted of Marcus Roberts on piano, Jeff "Tain" Watts on drums and Robert Leslie Hurst III on Bass. Marcus Roberts played with Wynton for several years before going solo, and he currently juggles his pianist career with being a teacher of music at Florida State University. Jeff "Tain" Watts played with Wynton, then left to play with Branford Marsalis, while peppering in some solo albums. Robert Hurst played with Wynton, then left to play with Branford Marsalis' band on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno in the 90s, before pursuing his solo career as well. Wynton didn't play with this quartet very often, so this album is something to be cherished

3) One of my favorite jazz standards is Cherokee, and Wynton covers this on this album. Cherokee was written in 1938 by Ray Noble, but the version I'm most familiar with is by another trumpet player, Clifford Brown (whose album I wrote about last month).

4) The foreword in this album was written by controversial jazz critic, Stanley Crouch, who is considers Marsalis a good friend of his. Crouch has often been staunch critic of rap music and Miles Davis' decision to play smooth jazz in the 80s, but when he can be a dynamic critic when he wants to be--and in his lengthy foreword inside this album--Crouch was indeed eloquent. Here's one of my favorite quotes from the lines notes:

Marsalis demotes the avant-garde trumpeters one and all, playing with such force and bold fluidity that one wonders what the course of jazz would have been had he arrived twenty years earlier.

And now, here is Wynton playing "Cherokee":

This Is Niecy - Deniece Williams

This is Niecy was one of my mother's favorite records, and Deniece Williams remains one of her favorite female vocalists to this day. I am listening to the record as I type, and it still amazes me how effortless it is for her to sound amazing. Even when she hits the high register, it sounds no more difficult than taking a breath or exhaling. She doesn't sound QUITE as effortless as Minnie Riperton, but there's no shame in that. Of course, "Free" is my favorite song on this album by far, and I never get tired of playing it.


**sidebar** There is a go-go version of this song that came out around 1994 or 1995, and the only reason I know about it (I hate go-go) is my brother played it for me when he visited me at Hampton University around that time. If you have this song, please let me know so I can pay you off. I haven't been able to find that damn song anywhere **sidebar off***

Earth, Wind and Fire put their imprint all over this record. Charles Stepney produced, Maurice White wrote, played drums and sang background vocals, while Verdine White wrote and played the bass. This is a very good album, and even 37 years later, it still sounds new.

Goin Out Of My Head - Wes Montgomery

My father had quite a few of Wes Montgomery's records, but I never heard this particular one before today. After doing a little research, I read that this album was criticized for being more big band, than traditional jazz, but after listening to this album twice, I don't think the criticism is warranted. There are elements of big band, but it is clear that Wes was still firmly rooted in jazz when he recorded this. It is a very mellow album though. My favorite song is "End of a Love Affair":

So Full of Love - The O'Jays

First off, please read my latest article on former Washington Wizards center, Jason Collins.

This particular O'Jays record contains three songs that invoke three distinct memories for me as a child: "Use Ta Be My Girl", "Cry Together" and "Brandy". "Use Ta Be My Girl" was a record that would get both my mother and father out of their seats on the dance floor (also known as our living room floor). I never knew what the hell kind of dances they were doing, but they had fun laughing, joking and borderline inappropriately touch, while my brother and I looked on without a clue. Actually I did have a bit of a clue.

Conversely, when "Cry Together" would come on, my parents had the audacity to openly slow grind right there in the very same living room where they acting a damn fool. This was flat out disgusting to look at, and frankly my brother and I thought it be best if we just left the room. No kid needs to see all that.

My memories of "Brandy" have much less to do with dancing and everything to do with family. You see Walter Williams, the lead singer on "Brandy"--a song about a damn dog--is my cousin on my father's side. My father told me first, and I didn't believe him, but my late grandmother and aunt confirmed, and they (along with Joni Mitchell) never lie. My relation to Walter has yet to score me O'Jays tickets, autographs or paraphernalia, but I'm glad he's my cousin anyway. This record came out in 1978 by the way.

Send in the Clowns - Sarah Vaughan and the Count Basie Orchestra

I knew when my parents were playing any Sarah Vaughan record, that I was listening to bonafide, grown-up mellow music. She didn't have an overpowering voice, but that was just fine, because the band backing her--in this case the Count Basie Orchestra--knew just how to compliment her. Sarah used her voice like an instrument without oversinging the way so many R&B (and jazz) singers tend to do, and there weren't many singers like her then or now (Cassandra Wilson is close, but not really). So when this record was playing, I knew that I had to minimize any talking I had planned on doing, and I had to just shut up and listen. Even this evening while I was playing this record (the quality on this particular record was subpar because my parents must have worn this out), I didn't say a whole lot. I just listened.

Parfait - Ron Carter

I asked my father why he had so many Ron Carter records, and he said they all have a calming influence that he appreciated--especially on Sunday mornings. I don't remember my father playing this particular record, but I definitely appreciate it as an adult. It was released in 1982, and I've never heard of the other three member in his quartet. But it is definitely relaxing..

Gula Matari - Quincy Jones

This is yet another record my father managed to hide from me all these years. He played "The Dude" and he played "Back on the Block" but it wasn't until today that realized that a) this record existed and b)I even had this record in the group that I inherited. And then when I open the record and started examining the credits, I realized that records like this simply don't get made anymore. There are exactly four songs on this record:

1 - Bridge Over Troubled Water (written by Simon and Garfunkel and 6:10 in duration)
2 - Gula Matari (written by Quincy Jones and 13:05 in duration)
3 - Walkin (written by Richard Carpenter and made famous by Miles Davis and 7:55 long)
4 - Hummin (written by Nat Adderley and 8:05 in duration)


The cast of characters is simply diverse as hell. Valerie Simpson (of Ashford and Simpson) is one of the vocalists, Bob James and Herbie Hancock play keyboards, Ron Carter is one of the bassists, Freddie Hubbard is one of the trumpet players, Hubert Laws has a flute solo, and Quincy Jones is directing them all.

Here's "Hummin":

I shall take a break from record-related posts to present a 16 minute talk by my mother:

Reed Seed - Grover Washington

There were some records my dad played for me, and I loved them because of the wonderful stories he'd include with them. Then there are some records I looked for because I knew there were samples buried in there somewhere, and this Grover Washington record was in that group. My favorite Tribe Called Quest record at the time was People's Instinctive Travels and Paths of Rhythm and played it over and over again. So when a DJ at my 16th birthday told me where the sample for the first song on that tape/cd came from, I checked to see if my dad had that record, and lo and behold he did. So here's Grover Washington's "Loran's Dance" follow by Tribe Called Quest's "Push It Along. And if you're lazy, skip to the to the 5:45 mark of Grover's song, and the 57 second mark of the Tribe song to hear the similarities.

Perfect Angel - Minnie Riperton

From birth until I was four years old, my mother would sing Minnie Riperton's "Lovin You" to me before I went to sleep. She didn't do it every night, but she did it enough that I would recognize the song, and try to chime in during the few parts I understood. Of course, there were some lyrics that weren't exactly applicable to the mother/son relationship, but my mother was savvy enough to elude or ignore those parts. As I got older, and as my mother and father played records every Saturday, my parents would still pepper in this song, as I reminder of how things went down when I was younger. Of course as I wrote here a couple of years ago, now when I hear the song, it creeps me out because I know it'll make me sad when and if my mother passes away. I know that's a bit dramatic and morbid, but he this is how I think occasionally.


Anyway, once I got older, I was able to appreciate Minnie Riperton, "Perfect Angel" album in its entirety. Every song on this album (except for two) was written by Minnie and her husband Richard Rudolph (also known as Maya Rudolph's parents). The two other songs they didn't write were written by Stevie Wonder and they were: "Take A Little Trip" and "Perfect Angel". "Take A Little Trip" featured Michael Sembello (Mr. Maniac) on lead guitar. "Perfect Angel" featured a young Denise Williams on background vocals. This is just a great f**king album.

Here is Stevie Wonder singing "Perfect Angel" and "Lovin' You" a short time after Minnie died in 1979.

Street Life - The Crusaders

My mother used to play The Crusaders all the time, and there didn't seem to be anything special about their sound. They mostly created smooth jazz, and every now and then, they'd pepper in a singer (like Randy Crawford on the title) track, but it wasn't enough to command my attention as a youngster. As I got deeper and deeper into hip-hop, I appreciate the abundance of samples that could be found on smooth jazz records, and then as I got older, I came to appreciate the genius of Joe Sample (a member of the Crusaders) as a producer. But this record is perfect background music of chores around the house, or reading the paper on a Sunday morning. It also can border as the soundtrack for 70s porn, and ultimately, isn't that the kind of versatility you're looking for in your music?

Night Faces - The Crusaders

Right On Time - The Brothers Johnsson

There were some records that my father played for my brother and I all the time, and then there were other records we specifically requested for him to put in rotation every Saturday--The Brothers Johnson's "Right On Time" was one of them. I didn't even appreciate the other songs on this record, I just wanted to hear, "Strawberry Letter 23", so my brother and I could dance to this song over and over again. Our favorite part of the song was the guitar solo from the 2:16 mark to the 3:18 point, and all we did is twirl around at a high speed until we could barely stand. And even once the guitar solo was over, we would still try to dance around like damn fools while we were dizzy as hell. This was 1984, I was nine and my brother was six. Now at 38, I don't twirl around like a jackass when I hear that solo, but I do listen closely to the bass guitar, to the lead guitars, the high-hats, the drums and everything in that song, and album as a whole. By the way, it is worth mentioning that "The Brothers Johnson" also played bass guitar on "We Are The World".

By the way, there was a great article in the NY Times two weeks back on Shuggie Otis, who wrote "Strawberry Letter 23". You can read that here.

Fulfillingness' First Finale - Stevie Wonder

My dad never played Stevie's "Fulfillingness' First Finale" album for me when I was young. Not even once. In fact, I heard most of the songs on this album on various other Stevie Wonder greatest hits albums over the years. After awhile I got curious about how this entire cd, so I bought it in 2001, and of course I couldn't get enough of it. Back in 2000, during a bad snowstorm, I decided to play the "At the Close of a Century" four-cd collection that my girlfriend at the time got me for my birthday. The last song on the second cd was "Creepin", and at the time, I thought Luther Vandross was the only who had written and perfomed this song. Of course later I find out that not only did Stevie write and produce this song, but the great Minnie Riperton sang background vocals.

So I actually have two favorite songs on this album.

Creepin'



And then the song Stevie Wonder sang at Michael Jackson's funeral, "They Won't Go When I Go" (which is a song that only Stevie can do justice, which makes me wonder who will try to sing it at his funeral):

Brenda Russell - Brenda Russell

I remember my mother playing this Brenda Russell record and loving the song, "So Good, So Right". I remember my father telling me that Brenda Russell wrote, produced and performed, "If Only For One Night", a few years before Luther Vandross took the song and ran with it. And I remember reading the words and the credits of this album (always the best part of the record opening/buying experience) and seeing that Brenda Russell wrote every song on the album and produced or co-produced the rest. She's a good singer, but she's an even better songwriter. My favorite song on this album is entitled, "In The Thick Of It". This song sounds like it could have easily been sung by DeBarge or Switch:

The Temptations - Meet The Temptations

My father moved to Arizona today, leaving the DC area (he lived in Ellicott City, which is right outside of Baltimore) for better opportunities and of course, a warmer climate. I've known he was going to move for a few weeks now, and I was in total denial about how it would affect me. But today, after my brother and I said our goodbyes to him, and I got in the car to drive back home, I cried like a baby for 45 minutes straight. I just feel like at my dad's age (62), he needs to be closer to me, not all the way across the the country. Plus he's lived in this area for quite some time, and I took comfort in knowing that at any moment, I could drive 30 minutes up the road, and see how he was, rather than just listening to him talk on the phone. Now that he's in Arizona, we will Skype, we will talk more, and I'm ok with that. I just hope he moves back soon.

Also, I would like to shout out my main Sabin, who led a beautiful Honors College ceremony at THE Hampton University with my mother as the keynote speaker. I was sitting in the audience next to my 15-year old son Carlton, while I watched my mother and my roommate from college sit on the stage. It was a great feeling that had me emotional in a good way.

Now, back to the albums. In honor of my dad leaving me here in the DC area by myself, I choose The Temptations - Meet The Temptations, which was the first album the Temps ever released in 1964. I remember my dad sitting me down one day in 1988, and breaking down the entire album, including the first single, "Dream Come True". David Ruffin was a late addition to the group, so he was on this album, just not on this song.

The Main Ingredient - Afrodisiac

I wish I could say I like this next album because of the singing, the harmony, or the fact that the lead singer's son is Cuba Gooding Jr--but I cannot. Growing up, the only reason I was infatuated with The Main Ingrdient's Afrodisiac album had everything to do with the nekkid lady on the front and back covers. This was way before I had access to google and a wife, which both allow me to see as much nudity as I want on a daily basis by accident. So I was loving this cover as well as many others by the Ohio Players.

Of course 20 years later, I still dig the nudity, but the harmonies are now a bit more prominent in my mind...just a bit. I also think "The Main Ingredient" is just a stellar name for a group. You're making a statement that you ARE the sh*t, and you challenge anyone to think otherwise. Plus most of the songs on this album were written by Stevie Wonder and his writing partner/wife at the time, Syreeta Wright, including my favorite song "Girl Blue":

Clifford Brown - Alternate Takes

I met Wynton Marsalis way back in 1984 before I had really developed my sound as a trumpet player (a 9 years old no less), but 5 years later, when I was a veteran 14-year old trumpet player, Wynton's advice was a little more sophisticated and specific. He told me to buy a Miles Davis album called, "Bags Groove", (which took me forever to find), and Wynton also told me to buy anything and everything by Clifford Brown. I already knew Brown's song "Cherokee", but I didn't own a full-length album from him, so my father bought his album, "Alternate Takes". Instead of appreciating the greatness of Brown's sound and technique, I was intimidated by how far I had to go as a trumpet player, and I wanted no parts of this f**king album--until now of course.

My favorite song on the album, "Wail Bait", was written by Mr Quincy Jones, and it features the great Art Blakey on drums:

Charles Mingus with Eric Dolphy and Jaki Byard - Portrait

First off, I have never gotten as sick as I have since Nyles was born. He's given me at least 4 or 5 colds, and yesterday (and today) he gave me a nasty stomach virus that has caused me to lose obscene amounts of weight. Nyles had it Friday, my wife had it late Saturday and all day Sunday, and I got it at 5am yesterday, and I'm still not right. Thanks Nyles

Anyway, there were some records in my father's collection that he rarely played, which I meant I didn't even know they existed. Charles Mingus' (with Eric Dolphy and Jaki Byard) "Portrait" album was one of those records. I knew my dad loved jazz, and he certainly had his favorites, but he did a great job hiding this record from me. Mingus isn't someone I appreciated until after college, when I dove head first into the cds of every bass player I could get my grubby little hands on. This particular Mingus album features Eric Dolphy on the flute, clarinet and alto sex, Jaki Byard on piano and other lesser-known artists I'd never heard of before playing this record. This album was released the year Mingus died (1979), and it features live music from his Concert Performance At Town Hall New York, Spring 1964 and a concert Performance in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Summer 1965.

This songm "Praying with Eric" is about 27 minutes long, but it is my favorite on the album so far, and it also seems to be keeping Nyles' attention which is always a plus. There are lots of tempo changes in this song, and selfishly speaking I just like to hear flutes and clarinets in my jazz. Because I started off playing in marching band when I was younger, I never associated clarinets and flutes with jazz, but now I know better. Anyway, I digress...

War - Deliver the Word

As I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate ths musicianship and message of the group War. But when I was younger, I only knew them as the group that sang, "Me and My Baby Brother". I blogged about this song back in 2006 right before my brother got married. I won't rewrite that entire blog entry, but I'll just say that my father used to tell Jamal and I to always look out for one another no matter how old we were. That song, and this album in general, have stuck with me every since. Of all the records I took from my father's record collection, this one had the most sentimental value.

War - Deliver the Word (1973)

Lionel Richie - Lionel Richie

If it weren't for Michael F. Jackson, Lionel Richie may very well been the HNIC of the 1980s. He wrote, he danced (kind of), he sang, he played the piano, and he successfully worked his way out of the shadow of the Commodores. His first album after going solo was entitled Lionel Richie, which featured a picture of inside the record cover, laying down with some red and white Nikes on..very sexy. Although as my wife points out, it is sexier than Michael Jackson laying down inside HIS record cover with a tiger.

Anyway, my favorite song on the album is "You Are", which Lionel co-wrote with his then-wife Brenda. Also, Richard Marx who had a few minor hits in the 90s sang background. Anyway, here's Lionel:

The Manhattans Greatest Hits

Back when my parents were together and fully in love with one another, my dad would put on the Manhattans Greatest Hits album, play air guitar (no matter what instrument was really playing, his default move was the guitar), and sing to my mother with lust and love in his eyes. My brother and I would watch this and be totally disgusted, but we appreciated the love our parents had for each other and us. There was no cynicism, no worries about bills or money, just love via a Manhattans record on a Saturday night. I loved that feeling, and hearing this record makes me think of that--in fact, on the first day of my honeymoon, as I laid on the beach with my wife, I played, "I'll Never Find Another", and I just smiled my ass off. But the song I will link in this blog is entitled, "Don't Take Your Love From Me", and I did so because of urgency Gerald Alston (the lead singer) has during the last 21 seconds of the song. That type of urgency is rarely displayed in R&B, but he nailed it.

First off, please read my article right here.


Today's record of the day is entitled The Louis Armstrong Story - Vol. 2, Louis Armstrong and his Hot Seven This and Volume 1 were recorded with Armstrong's band (the Hot 7) and they were recorded over a span of eight days in 1927. Yes, 1927 (two years after Malcolm X was born, two years before MLK). It is listed as jazz, but true to his New Orleans' roots, there are strong elements of blues as well.

So a couple of weeks ago, my father called me up and told me that he was finally ready to give his extensive record collection to both me and my brother. He's in the process of moving, and he realized that he hasn't played his records in years, and the righteous thing to do would be to give up his records to his selfish, but appreciative sons. My brother and I have had designs on his record collection since 1990, when we discovered that he had Richard Pryor and a ton of hip hop samples in the mix. Back then, my father consistently said no, and he wasn't ready to share, so thank god he changed his mind.

When my brother and I were divvying up the collection, it was fairly easy to decide who got what. I got all the jazz and smooth jazz (smooth jazz in the 1970s was way more hip and rich in sound and texture than it is today), and Jamal got mostly R&B with some exceptions. But there were four records that we could not agree upon initially:

1)Minnie Riperton - Perfect Angel
2)James Brown - Solid Gold
3)Otis Redding - The Dock of The Bay: The Definitive Collection
4)Stevie Wonder - Innervisions

I really wanted the James Brown album because you could basically put it on and dance for a good 2 hours straight. I wanted Minnie Riperton's album, because "Perfect Angel" (written by Stevie Wonder) is one of my favorite Minnie songs ever. I wanted Otis Redding because..well its fucking Otis Redding and Innervisions is the best Stevie Wonder album (in my opinion) recorded. Unfortunately for me, my brother had those very same reasons for wanting those exact same albums, so we were in a bit of a pickle. In the end, he got the James Brown, I got everything else, and neither one of us is truly happy, which is the sign of a good compromise.

So now, in honor of this great record collection my father has given to me, I will play a record a day and write a bit about it. You see my father, from 1980 until 1990 (when my parents started to drift apart..they eventually divorced in 1992) played records every Saturday, so that my brother and I would share his love for all types of music--and it worked because I'm a rabid fan. So every day (or every time I blog) I will share the record I chose to play that day.

First up? White Rabbit by George Benson. It came out in 1972, and the title track is a cover of a Jefferson Airplane song written by Grace Slick. The musicians on this album are like an all-star roster: Ron Carter on bass, Earl Klugh on gee-tar, Herbie Hancock on electric piano, Billy Cobham on drums, Hubert Laws on flute, clarinet and piccolo) and others. My favorite song off the album is California Dreamin:

The Good Ol' Days...

Mahna Mahna

Twice (Questlove remix) - featuring The Roots, Robert Glasper and Solange

The song is good, the beat is good, but the star of the song is the syncopated, DJ Premier-like bell you hear throughout the song. It is slightly off beat, but right on time...

I would like to say thank you to my main man jazzbrew, for assisting me with a question I've had for 23 f**king years. If you've ever seen Mo Better Blues (it was on HBO on Sunday afternoon, and it just so happens to be one of my favorite movies/soundtracks) you know there's a scene where Bleek is on the bridge alone with his trumpet. He had just called both of his ex-lovers, and neither one of them answered the phone (one was ignoring his call, and the other was getting thoroughly boned by Wesley Snipes' character). That song was NOT on the Mo Better Blues soundtrack, and for years (23 to be exact) I have wondered what that song was called, and how I could get my grubby hands on it.

I emailed jazzbrew on Sunday afternoon, and he gave me the answer, and the background story behind it, which is just the kind of answer I love and appreciate. Apparently the inclusion of this song is what helped Terence Blanchard win additional scoring gigs for Shelton "Spike" Lee. So thank you jazzbrew for your assistance. Unfortunately, this song is not available via itunes, but Amazon came through for me, and it will be in my collection soon enough. Here's the song:

So Chris Rock and Dave Chappelle ended up doing an impromptu comedy set together earlier this week. After I got over my jealousy, and my fantasies of seeing both comedians in concert together, I started thinking. In the 50s and 60s, jazz musicians like Miles, Dizzy and Bird would collaborate all the time, it really wasn't a big deal--in fact I'm 100% sure they didn't do it for the fans, but they did it for themselves. How else do you know where you measure against the best, if you don't subject yourself to a face-to-face meeting (with the audience playing the role of fans/judges)? Or maybe the artists are big fans of their competition, and sharing the stage during the jam is a huge thrill for them. I hope this is a trend that doesn't die anytime soon. I love Chappelle and Rock. I loved it when the Roots and John Legend did an album together. I love PTI with Wilbon and Kornheiser, and I love movies with Pesci and DeNiro. Apparently I love rambling too.

More about the Rock/Chapelle show here

My latest article

Between the ages of 11 and 14, my son Carlton had some serious struggles with maintaining any semblance of academic excellence. He could get good grades on a test here, a quiz there, but ultimately, his report cards would have all Cs and Ds on them. I tried various forms of motivation, but none of them worked. But of course my son is now at that age, when material things--more importantly having the money to purchase them--are the one of the most important aspects of his life. So when I found this out, I was able to coax academic excellence out of his lazy ass, by promising sums of money. In fairness to Carlton, I think he's also motivated by the fact that his friends have begun talking about college and he does not want to get left behind. Anyway, he's gotten all As and Bs for two consecutive semester (the second semester of 9th grade and the first semester of 10th), and as a result I initally offered him cash, and then he explained that he wanted Jordans (Concord 11s to be exact).

Now when I was under 18, my dad refused to pay that much money for shoes, and to this day I have never owned a pair of Jordans. Even when I was working and could afford a pair, I just found it difficult to justify that kind of money for shoes I will wear on Friday and Saturday only. Dress shoes are worth spending $100-$300 for, because I will get plenty of mileage out of them. I'm not crazy about Carlton getting Jordans with the little bit of money he earned last semester, and I did my best to tell him how asinine it was to make that purchase, but he stood his ground. He'll learn his lesson the hard way. Before we got off the phone, I told him to send me the shoe he wanted, and the size he wore via email. This is how the email exchange went down:

Carlton: Concord 11

Me: Carlton I have no problem getting you the shoe, because as I said before, you earned this money. But I asked for the name of the shoe and the size. The least you could do is put them both in a complete sentence, instead of you sending me two words, because I don't know if the shoe is called Concord 11, or if it's just called Concord and your size is 11, so please clarify for me.

Carlton: Concord 11 size 10

Me: That's still not a sentence, stop being lazy.

Carlton: The shoes are called the concord 11, and I wear a size 10.

Me: Thank you, I'll order them today



For some reason I feel the need to call my dad and apologize for all the headaches I caused as a teenager.

Here is a quote from Questlove, on why he feels it is important to teach. He's currently teaching a music course at NYU. I dig the quote, and it is why both my sons needed to understand the importance of all types of music:

You’re hoarding all this information, but have you taught someone that this is important?” The mistake we made is that the potent magic of the music I listened to when I was growing up would just somehow transcend mankind through the ages, like throwing a stone in a lake and watching it ripple. Now I realize that we’re the ripple. My goal is simply to teach 24 students how to enjoy music. There’s a wealth of knowledge and information on the internet and a lot of it is overwhelming and there’s too much to process. I just want to point out and say, ‘Hey, try door 36. Try door 513, that’s kind of cool’ then have them decide for themselves.

First off, check out this article regarding the latest and greatest trade by my beloved Washington Wizards. I know you've been waiting with anxiously.

Second, here is young Nyles:

As part of ESPN's massive media push to celebrate the 50th birthday of Michael Jordan, a beautifully-written piece was posted on their website. I won't spoil it by giving out specifics, but it basically showed MJ at his best, worst and most candid. Wright Thompson, who wrote the piece, was granted an unprecedented amount of access to all aspects of MJ's life, and I have no problem admitting that I was/am supremely jealous.

But after reading that piece, and reading about MJ's reluctance to the aging process, my thoughts went to my father. He's going to be 63 soon, and he's told me about how frustrating it is to know there are things he can no longer do. He's also explained to me how scary it is to know that he's closer to death than he ever was--not that he's sick or anything, but the air of invincibility that people(particularly men) have in their 20, 30s and even 40s is all but gone. I mean damn, I'm 38, and I can no longer play ball with the same kind of ferocity I used to play, and I've had two head colds knock me on my ass and keep me from work. I'm not ready to imagine my 50s and 60s. I know I want to live that long and beyond, but I don't know if I'm ready for my powers to be lessened (assuming I don't dabble in HGH or deer antler spray of course).

In a related note, I've decided to run a 5K race in June. I don't workout as much as I used to, so this will serve as a great motivator. That's all for now..I'm trying to write while I'm in bed, and it isn't working out. But speaking of aging, here is an aging, but effective Big Daddy Kane with some new music:

So today is my last day at my current job. Starting tomorrow. I will be relocating from the suburbs of Virginia, back to downtown DC. I will be closer to daycare, closer to my wife, closer to the Verizon Center (where the Wizards play), and most importantly, closer to my house. The job will be more challenging, and my boss definitely seems tough, but fair, but I'm used to that. But that's not why I'm writing this email.

The job I'm leaving today, requires me to supervise 30-40 people, which means all of them have to say goodbye to me in some shape, form or fashion. I have been at this job since June of 2012, and I have varying degrees of closeness with my staff. I am cool with some, stay at arm's length from others, and the rest fall somewhere in the middle. Still, right now it is 3:38, and three members of my staff have left already, and it is hilarious to watch try to say goodbye.

One woman just kind of looked at me and said "bye", not knowing whether to hug me or shake my hand, so she did neither. One dude didn't know whether to shake my hand in the traditional sense or to give me the handshake/half hug combo, so we ended up playing rock-paper-scissors. One woman clumsily came up to me and gave me the churchiest of church hugs known to man--and we still have 30 or more awkward confrontations to go. I want to just sneak out the door to avoid this madness, but these people have treated me to lunches, cards, and a bottle of wine over the past couple of days, since learning of my departure. If I were to just walk out, that would be uncivilized right?

By the way, since I started this blog, another lady just got real close to me to say goodbye. No hug, no handshake, just an invasion of personal space. This is awesome.

The wife looked at me about 10 minutes ago, and told me she missed my blog, which is exactly what I've been thinking for a couple of weeks now. I definitely don't have items to report on a daily basis, but there still times, when something is on my mind, and I'd like to put it down--the words of course. So, for the fourth time after ending it, I am back on the blog scene again. We'll see how this goes, although I am not sure anyone is reading anymore.

I participated in basketball-themed holiday wishes column which can be seen by clicking right here (scroll down to the Wizards portion)

I also helped with this and this

From 1984 to 1987, my family lived in Newtown, Connecticut. My mom was working on her dissertation, so she was home all the time. My dad worked at General Foods in White Plains, NY, but he chose to have us live in Newtown, so that he could shield us from the hustle and bustle in New York and the surrounding suburbs. Newtown was quite, earnest and overwhelmingly white, which was a shock to my family's system, since we lived in Cleveland, Ohio before that.

We didn't live there very long, but there were some memorable moments. I skipped 3rd grade, which made me feel like the man for 30 seconds, before I realized that I was about to be socially inadequate--a condition I've yet to recover from to this day. I remember Newtown (and the whole state of Connecticut for that matter) was soccer crazy, and I fell for the sport hard. And I also remember how quiet and peaceful that town was, despite its lack of diversity. I made great friends there while playing soccer, and I was devastated when my dad told me in July of 1987, that we were moving from Connecticut to Potomac, Maryland. I cried and cried the day we got to DC.

The first couple of years after I left, I did my best to keep in touch with Newtown soccer and school friends, but after awhile, I got over them and embraced my new Maryland life. Facebook, that annoying, yet addictive site that apparently has the ability to reunite, allowed to me to re-connect with my old friends during the past few years. In fact one of my friends from back then, just so happens to live five blocks from me here in DC, which is very cool.

All of this makes last Friday's events feel very weird. Prior to Friday’s tragedy, when I told folks I lived in Newtown, I had to use Bruce Jenner (who went to high school in Newtown) as a reference point because people had no idea what or where Newtown was. Sadly, no one will ever wonder where or what it is again. Not only that, I've had to read Facebook status message from people I knew back then, who just can't believe their quaint, little town, has had its innocence ripped away so quickly and violently. It is depressing.

But I refuse to end on a depressing note, so here is a picture that was taken in the spring of 1984 in Newtown, CT, on the front lawn of our house back then. My brother and I in our soccer outfits, with our shorts pulled up as high as the law will allow you to pull them. I'm the taller one by the way...

Wizards/Lakers postgame wrap-up

Nyles is mobile

2 years and counting....

Well at this point I have serious doubts that anyone even still reads this blog. But my cluttered life has taken a break from kicking my ass, which allows me to write a bit. So I'll attempt to fill in the gaps...


First off, my son is rubbing his little johnson against the front of the Bumbo chair, while he's in the bathtub. At first I thought it was pretty funny that at the ripe old age of 11 and a half months, he has already discovered the joys of his own genitalia. But now, when I see the determined look on his face, and how important it is for him to press his junk up against this chair, then smile at me, it has morphed into creepiness. But who am I to deny him a gift that will keep on giving throughout his life?

Second, if you are a fan of Bilal, go download this mixtape. He has his greatest hits on there, but he also covers Stevie Wonder's "Too High", which is just awesome.

Third, I have decided to have a 39th birthday party on Jan 20th (formerly known as Inauguration Day before this year). I will post details later, and all 3 of you who read are invited to come and act your age minus 15.


Fourth, watch this documentary on Boyz N The Hood. My brother sent it to me the other day and it is badass:


And lastly, here is an updated picture of my beloved Nyles:

New Prince

Today is one of those days that I'll hold near and dear to my heart--and you should believe that, because I rarely (read: never)use the expression, "near and dear to my heart". My wife had to work late today, which meant I had the rare opportunity to pick up (as opposed to dropping off) my son from daycare.

When I walked into the church, I could hear my son happily screaming and yelling, and this only kicked up a notch when he actually saw my face. The daycare ladies handed me to him, he laughed and scream even more and we left.

***sidebar*** When the daycare ladies initially handled Nyles to me, I noticed that his diaper was not right, and I frowned my nose. The ladies promptly whisked Nyles away, changed and disposed of his diaper, and then handed him back to me. It made me think back to a couple months ago, when Nyles left the house with a clean diaper, but during our travels to daycare, he did some dirty things. I felt guilty about handing over a dirty diaper child..to me it is the equivalent of a woman showing up to work with a run in her stockings. You knew it was jacked up when you arrived, but you were hoping you could slide. I'm ranting. sidebar off. But when I tried to change Nyles, the daycare ladies said no, and they changed him, and I left with a clear conscience. How cool is t that?***

Anyway, Nyles and I went from daycare to the doctor's office, where he got the second half of his flu shot. As you can imagine, that doctor's appointment was not smooth at all, and he was cranky all evening until I put him to bed about 20 minute ago (7:30).

In about an hour, once the wife gets home, I'll be headed to Union Station to meet my 15 year old, who is coming for the weekend. The fact that I can pickup both of my sons today makes me so damn happy. Great times.

Shout out to my lovely wife who dry snitched me on Twitter earlier tonight. Click here.

This song came on my ipod, and I forgot how much I enjoy it:

So my guilty pleasure song of the moment is Keyshia Cole's, Enough of No Love. I don't think that Keyshia can sing, and I think Lil Wayne's rap is uninspired and superfluous, but for some reason I cannot get the song out of my head. Actually, I've never heard the song on the radio, I just see the video at least twice a day(yes I still watch videos from time to time..ok everyday).

Two days ago I decided enough was enough, and I downloaded the song off itunes. I muted Monday Night Football, and I listened to the song while I was playing with young Nyles, so I really didn't listen to the words carefully--only the addictive chorus. Today, while I was commuting into work, I heard the words to the song. I heard Keyshia's curse words, and I heard Lil Wayne's overly sexist lyrics, and I got offended (which isn't easy to do). The video version had all but shielded me from this profanity, so to hear it was a shock to my system. I sat there on the train and said to myself, "Man, f**k this when I get home, I'm downloading the clean version."

Two seconds after I muttered that phrase to myself, I was ashamed. For years I laughed at clean versions of songs, and I attached a certain degree of prudeness to them--especially when I found out Wal-Mart sold clean versions in bulk. I wore my ability to recite copious amounts of profanity like a badge of honor..or flair if you will. Now during my train ride to work, industry powerhouses Keyshia Cole and Lil Wayne were suddently able to blow up my whole operation, sending me on a downward spiral towards the prude folks. I'm hoping this is an isolated incident.

That's all I have for now..except for my latest article of course.

First off, please read this article and then this one.

Then watch this commercial and realize that the wall with all the records is something I need in my 37-going-on-38 life..

My Dad, Nyles and the Ceiling Fan

Number one, please read the latest article I contributed to right here.

Second, I'm tired of explaining why I don't blog as much. My job is demanding, basketball season is here, I have familial obligations, football season is also here, and as a result, I simply cannot keep the pace I used to maintain in terms of blogging.

But I can offer pictures of Nyles as an olive branch..if you care of course

So today I overheard a conversation on the train between two young people (late 20's, early 30s) and they were talking about the Presidential debates earlier this week. One woman said that she just didn't like Mitt Romney because he came off as entitled and detached, and the other woman was harping on the "binders of women" comment (which was funny, but wrong). There was little to no discussion about policies or substance, only the likability of Obama and the opposite emotion regarding Romney. This reminded me of my old basketball coach, Wilbert.

Wilbert was loud, mean, abrasive, offensive, and he yelled at the best and worst players with the same amount of ferociousness. He had a certain way he wanted his players to play (fast and smart) and any failure to adhere to his rules provoked yelling, screaming and eventually a seat on the bench--not next to him, but on the other end. You were out of sight, out of mind. And given that we hadn't lost a single game all year, it was hard to argue with his methods. His assistant coach was the opposite. He wanted the plays to be run correctly, but he was the friend of all the players. Instead of yelling, he'd throw a gentle "come on man" or "get it together" at the players, and because of that, he was the team favorite.

So one time Wilbert had to miss a game, which meant the assistant was thrust into the role of head coach. Everyone was motivated to play hard for him in the beginning, but when we started to get behind, all the players started to shun team basketball, and take matters into their hands (something coaches call "hero ball"). The assistant coach called a timeout, went to his tried and true method of saying "come on man", and a bunch of other gentle, tender and benign phrases, but it did not work. The team wasn't motivated, the quality of play did not improve, and we were blown out. Even back then as a 14 year old, I knew that our assistant coach, as nice and gentle as he was, had neither the demeanor nor the bite, to lead young men to victory.

Now, I'm not saying you have to mean and assholish to run a basketball team or a country, but I am saying that personality has little to nothing to do with the price of tea of China. Politics, much like sports, is a results-based business. And whether you're rich and arrogant like Romney, or you have no money worries and you're seemingly humble like Obama, it really does not matter. What matters is can you run the country in an effective manner.

That was my official 2012 presidential election preview. I hope you enjoyed it.

Please read my latest article here

The title of the article is based on this 22 (yes 22) year old song by GangStarr:

My job continues to kick my ass, and I am behind on my Wizards-related articles, so I haven't exactly been showing this blog much love. In fact, I don't even know if anyone reads anymore..but I promise to be a bit more prolific this month. Just a bit..

My 20 year high school reunion is scheduled to take place the day after Thanksgiving, and I can readily admit that I was pumped when I first saw that it was being planned. I intentionally skipped the 5,10 and 15 year reunions my class planned, because quite frankly it was too soon. 5 years after high school, I still had the maturity of a 17 year old, 10 years after high school I was too self-centered, and 15 years afterwards, I was 3 months off a major fire, and my self-esteem was at the bottom of the toilet.

20 years later, all my ducks are in their proverbial row, the stars have properly aligned, and now I am ready to take on the reunion---and I don't want to go anymore. I initially thought I did when a Facebook group was set up and some of my old classmates started populating their name on the "Are you going?" spreadsheet. And then I got sucked in the playful, what-are-you-doing-now? banter that I saw as well as the where-will-the-venue-be conversations. But as more of my old classmates started to chime in and post pictures from high school, I realized I had grossly romanticized my high school experience.

I was in none of the pictures from high school, because I wasn't a member of any of the fancy cliques (except the basketball team and the newspaper), my two best friends were a year behind me, and the people who were committing to attend were mildly annoying (ok way more than mildly). I reached out to one of the few people I actually keep in touch with, and she put it best: "Rashad, the people we went to high school with are jackasses!" Part of me still wants to go, so I can be "that guy" who makes everyone uncomfortable because I actually dared to show up, despite not really being welcome, but a)I have no clue whether anyone actually really believes that I'm not welcome and b)I'm allegedly too mature to spend $75 on an evening's worth of revenge. But I do wonder how many people go this mental tug of war regarding their high school reunion.

It is worth pointing out that I have ditched college reunions too for this same reason. My main man Sabin (my college roommate for two years) was the man in college and he was popular as hell. Meanwhile, people would refer to me as "that guy that hung around Sabin", which I wore/wear as a badge of honor. There are worse things to be remembered by:

1) That guy who passed out in front of the student union
2) that guy who got beat up at the football party
3) The guy who gave 23 girls herpes
4) The girl who sucked 30 guys off in one night, but held her dignity high because she didn't sleep with any of them

You get the point...

1)I know I posted a video of Maya Rudolph singing Prince's "Darling Nikki" yesterday, but here is one with the legendary Roots crew backing her.

2)Life is precious. My wife was talking to one of her co-workers on Monday morning, and later that day her co-worker collapsed at work, and the next morning she passed away at age 45. The cause of death has yet to be revealed. That is just weird, creepy, and sobering all at the same time. I'm not going to dwell on it though, it is just a good reminder to appreciate folks while they are still around...except for the ones who make you angry, still treat them badly, they deserve it.

3) Nyles is knee deep in the sleep regression pool. He wakes up every two hours, he cries, he whines, and it is pissing the wife and I off. Equally maddening is the b.s unsolicited advice I've gotten from folks involving home remedies that would surely get my wife and I arrested (although we've given each option some SERIOUS consideration out of pure frustration). We love our boy, but damn he's a pain in the ass sometimes

4) I hope you've continued to read these articles on the top 56 Washington Wizards players over the last five years. We, much like Bartles and James, thank you for your support.

I apologize for all the name dropping I'm about to do.

The Tom Joyner Morning Show was in Cleveland this morning, and my mother was in the audience while Kym Whitley was being interviewed. Kym Whitley has been in television shows and movies for the past 20 years or so, and my mother hasn't done too shabby for herself either. But 30 years or so ago, my mother was a high school teacher at Shaker Heights High School in Ohio, and Kym was her student, and the babysitter of her kids (my brother aid I). Kym saw my mother, they embraced, talked, etc, and they took this picture together, which I thought was special (even if no one else does).

1) I thought it was a rule that when you're pushing a stroller with your kid in it, you have to speak to anyone who is doing the same. I've observed that rule since Nyles was born, and for the most part, people have done the same for me. But this morning, while I was pushing Nyles around, I was ignored by 3 couples, and I couldn't figure out why. I wasn't feeling confrontational enough to force the issue, but I felt some kind of way about being forsaken.

2) Why is it none of you people told me that Michael Jackson's Bad was being re-released next Tuesday. For just $34.99, I can re-live all the great music, some unreleased tracks and concert footage. It doesn't get any better than that.

3) Have you been following the Truth About It series on the greatest Washington Wizards of the past 5 years? If not, click here.


And staying with the theme of Michael Jackson, here was my favorite scene in "This Is It". Michael, in a gentle, yet forceful way, was telling Michael Bearden to do things his way, and his way only.

Nyles and Madonna

My father used to play records every Saturday afternoon/evening, and give my brother and I a story about everything he played. I've started the tradition with young Nyles. The afternoons consist of me playing records, and he either does this:

or this

The good folks at Truth About It and I are doing a series on the best Washington Wizards players from the last five years. Here is the first installament.

Nyles is...a smooth criminal

Several months ago, one of my friends posted something about sleep regression on Facebook, as it related to her infant. She graduated from the newborn stage, and her baby had finally begun to sleep with some degree of regularity. Then inexplicably, the baby started being a pain in the ass again. When I read about that, part of me sympathized, but a bigger part of me was relieved that young Nyles had seemingly evaded that dreaded part of being an infant. Clearly the joke was on my wife and me.

The past couple of weeks, the wife and I have abandoned swaddling and begun sleep training young Nyles all at the same time. His post daycare routine is as follows:

5-6pm: Eat, be happy, spit food on Mommy and Daddy

6-7: Have a violent mood swing from happy to evil, cheer up momentarily in the bathtub, then revert to angry man

7- 7:30: Drink a warm bottle, go to sleep, cry, sleep, cry, sleep, cry once more, then sleep

11-12a: whimper, toss and turn, fool Mommy and Daddy into thinking you're going to wake up, and then go back to sleep

2am: Wake up and scream bloody murder

3am: See 2am

4am: See 2am

5am: Trick Mommy into letting you in the bed (Daddy has given up sleep at this point and a)goes to workout or b) goes to work)

530am: Fall into a DEEP sleep until 6:45, when Mommy is already awake and pissed the f**k off

6:45am: Wake up smiling, joking and looking cute, just completely shunning the fact that he kept his parents up all night


The wife and I are sleep deprived, cranky, too tired for (regular) sex, and if this goes on, someone at our respective jobs will feel our wrath. As angry as this little boy makes me, when someone at work asks me how Nyles is doing, I smile and instantly start bragging about him, like he didn't cause me hell the night before. It's as if he's strong in the ways of the Force, and I have no power over him. I love him, but I'm not against crushing Ambien tablets in his bottle...

This song you see below has become my guilty pleasure song of the month. I've always appreciated Usher, but his recent material is boring. I don't like Rick Ross all that much, because he's just an average lyricist most of the time. But put them together, and for some mysterious reason I'm hooked...

Venus and Serena vs the NY Times Magazine

About three weeks ago I was on Facebook, when I noticed that one of my "Suggested friends" was an ex-girlfriend of mine from 2005. I ignored it at first, then I decided to click her page to see what she was up to. Instead of seeing pictures, corny status messages and a bunch of superfluous stuff that litters the facebook pages of everyone (present company excluded of course), I saw something much different.

The facebook had been started by her mother, because the ex died in her sleep back on June 3rd at age 43. Her mother wanted to start the page to keep her memory alive via her friends and family. I hadn't spoken to her in awhile, but her death still gave me pause for a few reasons.

One, it is always a little weird and creepy when someone you knew and lost touch with passes away. You expect your exes to disappear to move on, not die. Two, I remember breaking up with this ex back in April of 2005, because I had met another woman who I felt was way more promising. That promising woman ended up breaking it off with me in June of 2005, being my friend again in 2006, and my wife in 2010.

**sidebar*** My ex was a born again virgin who hadn't had sex in over 15 years, and initially I didn't care because she was cool people, and it was October, which meant football season had just started. While I prefer not to, I can go without sex during football season. But when the spring came around, and she still didn't seem to be giving it up, I became antsy. She went on a cruise with her girls for 10 days. On the fourth day she was gone, I met a girl (now my wife). On the sixth day she was gone, she called me to say hi, and I told her it was over, and then her phone cut off because she was on a cruise. On the 9th day she was gone I got a letter in the mail that she had written on the 1st day of her cruise, telling me how she was ready to "give it up". I felt terrible. **sidebar off**

I found it weird that in the midst of this beautiful life I have, I happened to read about the death of an ex who I dumped two days after meeting my wife. That is weird, which is why I didn't write about this until almost an entire month later. 90% of the time, you want your exes to go away forever, and you really don't care whether you speak to them again or not. They can find out about you through mutual friends, facebook or by reading your blog once or twice a month, but you'd rather not deal with them directly. But you really don't expect to read about their untimely demise..and definitely not at the age of 43.

Not trying to be morbid here, this was just on my mind today. The wife and I talked about this when it first happened, I'm just now getting around to writing it...

Fear of a Black President.

I wish I had written this brilliant article

More videos..this one is an old interview with the Jacksons, Gamble and Huff

Work has been kicking my monkey ass, so I have nothing of eloquence to write. I just wanted to share this Anita Baker song, that I found out was co-written by Gerald Levert. This is one of my favorite Anita Baker songs..

I've had plenty of jobs where the concept of working home was a complete joke. I would have my laptop out for work, but it was entirely possible that I'd also have a glass of wine on hand, ESPN on tv, and music blaring through the speakers. 20% of me was working, 75% of me was chillin', and 5% of me was lost (as is always the case).

This current job takes my previous notion of working from home, and it shoves it all the way in my face. I'm at home now, but I feel like I am right in the office. People are sending me work IMs, I'm answering emails, I'm writing reports, making calculations, I'm eating onions and spotting dimes. I sat down to work at 8am, and I looked up, and it is now almost 10am, and there's still plenty of work to be done (which is why I'm blogging right now). Complaining about work is like complaining about fantasy sports..no one cares and no one has sympathy for you. I'm a bit overwhelmed but I am fully aware of the alternative, and I have no desire to be without employment. So I power thru.

This really wasn't worthy of an entry, but sometimes it feels better to vent. I thank you for reading. Plus no one wants to read about the terrible things happening in Nyles' diapers this week.

This past weekend I had the pleasure of visiting Ohio for my grandmother's 80th birthday and my uncle's marriage--on the same day. I saw lots of family, got lots of love, witnessed lots of questionable wedding attire choices, and I had an overall great time. It was also my first road trip with the wife and young Nyles, and to say the little fella tested our patience would be a supreme understatement.

First off, in order to leave D.C., we had to pack the car with our entire house. A portable crib, bottles, diapers, formula, a stroller, and this was before we got to our own stuff in the damn car. Then, the drive from D.C. to Cleveland usually takes me around 5 and a half hours with one or two stops at the most, but with a seven and a half month old, that just isn't possible. My trip took seven and a half hours there, and seven hours home, and I couldn't even complain about it. As my uncle said, "With infants you have to take your nice, efficient plans and throw them out of the window. And that's exactly what I did.

Anyway, one of the more depressing sights this weekend was my grandmother--specifically the effects dementia is starting to have on her. The last time I saw her was during her husband's funeral, and I couldn't see the dementia, because sadness seemed to be the prevailing emotion. But this weekend, there was nothing that could hide the dementia. Not even her birthday and the marriage of her son could hide what I saw. At one point, I saw her open the fridge, then open about 6 cupboards, close them all, open them up again, then scratch her head for about 5-7 minutes. Finally, I put her and the situation out of its misery, and I asked her what she was looking for, and she said she had no clue.

This went on the entire weekend. There were moments of clarity, like when she told me about her first husband (my grandfather) leaving her for a white woman in 1962 (this wouldn't be a big deal today, but when a black man left his black wife for a white woman in the heart of the Civil Rights movement, that took balls as big as church bells). But there were more moments of her rambling, talking about things that made no sense, and getting caught mid-sentence or mid-thought without knowing how to finish. It was sad to see, but millions of elders (and their family members) are going through this. My other grandmother battled this and cancer for about six months, and then she said enough is enough, and passed away on her own terms. Things don't always get tied in a neat little bow like that, but I wish there was a way to avoid this. Not to mention, this is taking a toll on my mother, who has taken on the yeoman

task of trying to take care of her (along with a caregiver, who is there while my mother works).

I'm stopping now, because this shit is absolutely depressing, but I wanted to at least get a partial thought out on the subject. I'll end on a high note

My dad's latest article (and you better read it)

So last Thursday night, I worked a little over a 12-hour day, and I decided that I deserved a nice bottle of red wine. My father-in-law was staying with me still, so I was a little leery about him seeing me drink (I'm lying), especially since he's been sober for quite some time, but I powered thru that pseudo-guilt and bought the wine. I was getting ready to venture back in the house, when I remembered that the wife requested that I buy some formula for young Nyles, so I headed into Rite-Aid to do just that.

***Sidebar*** I can readily admit that there is a bit of guilt involved when you buy wine AND baby formula on the same run. The wine cost me $15 dollars, the formula cost me $21, and part of me thought that I should be spending that money on TWO bottles of formula, instead of wine and formula. Then I went to the-grown-ups-need-to-have-fun-too card that adults use to rationalize bad behavior and child neglect, and I bought that f**king wine with no regret with one caveat. Usually I shun the purchase of the bag when I buy wine because a) the liquor store is right across the street from my house (and I don't live in a "black" neighborhood, so picture that. and b)bags are five cents. This time I bought a bag, because I couldn't be seen purchasing wine with a bottle in my hand..that's just bad business right? right.***sidebar off**

So as I was looking for formula, I saw this familiar looking older man bending over and looking at dog food. I stared for a few seconds and wondered if it was who I thought it was, but I said nah, and kept walking. I went to pick up some deodorant, then I headed to the counter, and the old man was in front of me once again, and THIS time I knew exactly who it was. Former Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld. We had the following conversation:

Me: Mr. Rumsfeld?
Him: Yes sir
Me: I don't want to bother you and ask for a picture, but then again, there's no way in hell anyone will believe me if I say I saw you in a drugstore buying dog food
**big hearty laughter by both of us..more him though***
Him: Ah its ok
Me: No that's ok, I just wanted to say hello and shake your hand
Him: Oh ok
**We shake hands**
Me: Take care sir

Of course five minutes later, these two girls begged him for a picture, and he played along, smiled and took the picture (with dog food in his hand), but I could tell he didn't like it. Now I don't agree with the man's politics, and I'm sure he's masterminded some things that would downright piss me off (and vice versa). But this was a man who held a pretty political office, and that alone commands my respect.

I should have taken a picture...anyway, more Nyles:

Yes I realize this video is 55 minutes long, and yes I'm aware that youtube may not let you watch it from my blog, because they want you to go their site directly. But this is a great documentary on Stevie Wonder's "Hotter Than July" album (back when you could call them albums without dating yourself). This wasn't Stevie's best album, but it had one of my favorite songs on there entitled "All I Do" (Mr. Michael Jackson sings background on it). But I digess..watch the video please:

What Love Is..

Top of the muffin TO YOU!!

Love is when you sit in your living room and watch the Fox Show, "Hell's Kitchen", with your wife and father-in-law. Sure you just poured a glass of wine so you could watch the Olympic Games, which are nice enough to come into Your life every four years for two entertaining weeks. And sure you told your wife to "go ahead" when she asked if you could turn the channel, and sure your black ass should have been honest and said, "hells no!". But because you love your wife, and you (allegedly) have enough manners to relinquish control of the remote and the television to your hard-working wife and your father-in-law (who is a guest at your apartment watching Nyles because daycare is closed this week). And yes you agreed to change the channel even though you and your father-in-law seemed to be having a bang-up time watching synchronized male diving (don't judge me) before the wife changed the channel. But because there is love, you shut the hell up, you take it and you don't complain (but you do write about it, because writing is what you do). You also know (and strongly urge) that your wife will put out like a champ sometime in the near future to right this horrible wrong..

And now, I will end on a high note..Nyles got his first high chair yesterday...

My favorite Sherman Hemsley moment

So last night, my boss asked me to put something together in Microsoft Visio, which is a program that I have extremely limited experience with (so limited in fact, I don't even try to be slick and put it on my resume as something I'm "proficient" in). If anyone else I work with asked me to complete this task, I would have hit them with the Double XX Posse logic. But since my boss asked me to do it, and since she needed it done before I left last night to deliver to HER boss, I foolishly said I could handle it. That was at 4pm.

Four hours later I completed the task, and luckily for me, my boss was working late anyway so it was no big deal. Around 7 or so, I went to her office and assured her I was still working, but it was going slow, and she gave me this look like that said, "You're still working on this?" (if you watch The Office, think of the time when Charles asked Jim why he was working so hard on the rundown):

Charles: You started on that rundown yet? [Looks at Jim's screen.]
Jim: Oh, this is just something I'm taking a break with.
Charles: Oh.
Jim: I will get back to the rundown, uh, right now.
Charles: Okay, great.
Jim: Hey you know what? Do you have a rundown that I could take a look at, just so I know what type of rundown you're looking for ?
Charles: Just keep it simple.
Jim: Keeping it simple -that's what I'm doing. But I am working hard on this one. Real hard.
Charles: You're working hard? On this?
Jim: No. Not too hard. Not harder than I should.
Charles: Right. I mean why work harder than you should.
Jim: No, I...

Anyway, I told my boss that I was powering through, and I could still handle the task at hand. But man I was struggling, and everyone who I called on for help either a) blew me off b) didn't know what Vision was or c)was unavailable (as an aside, another one of my friends told me later, that Visio was for lames, and it's all Mac-related design programs..she can kiss my ass). I felt like a jackass for biting off more than I could chew, but I felt a bit of vindication when I finally got it done to her liking (with some help from a lone IT guy who was still here too).

When I got home, young Nyles was sleep, my wife fought sleep long enough to imbibe with me for 30 minutes or so, and then she crashed too. Around 11:45 I finally went to sleep after a 14-hour workday, and then the sleep gods decided to f**k me by waking me up at 3:30am. The wife and son were fast asleep, and I was laying awake watching woman's soccer for two and a half hours. I have little to no patience today, which means it is entirely possible that I will be asked to tackle another impossible task on just 3 hours sleep. I'm not complaining, I'm merely giving a three-paragraph long excuse for me taking a nap in my office and/or leaving early today is definitely an option.

First of all, I would love if you would read the article that my colleagues and I slaved over by clicking right here.

Second, I would like to send a special, special shoutout to young Nyles who has given my wife and I his cold for the second time in a little over a month. I'm learning now that when your child is sick, short of living in a bubble and wearing masks, it is impossible to avoid getting that same cold..with one caveat. The cold my son has involves intermittent sneezing and coughing and mild congestion. Once it morphs into an adult cold, it picks up strength like a hurricane in the Atlantic, and it hits harder, faster and with way more impact. I stayed home with the little fella yesterday, and today I needed to stay home, but I'm back at work. So the big middle finger to that kid who gave the cold to my son.

And thirdly, my oldest son has started rapping, and he's dropping curse words and "N" words like he's Kool G Rap. His mother and stepfather don't seem to mind, which makes me look like the villain in this scenario..which is perfectly fine with me, but still. A 14 year old high school kid should not be posting his profane rhymes on facebook, soundcloud or anywhere, he should be trying to graduate and go to college. That's just my opinion, but it doesn't seem to be shared by the other adults his life, which is infuriating to say the least. I would post the link to the page with his music on there, but I can't do that right now...I'm not spreading that filth. I can't decide whether I'm offended as a parent or a fan of rap music..but I am offended. Clearly he's influenced by the cadences and rhymes of Drake, Lil Wayne and Rick Ross. If you were to scan my ipod, you may see 5-10 songs combined from those artists. I respect (kind of) their work, but I'm not a big enough fan to by their entire album. Plus they aren't talking about anything worth getting excited about.

Anyway, my son did record his last three songs profanity and "n" word free, so maybe I'm getting through to him. I know he curses and all that when I'm not around, which is fine (kind of). But you CANNOT put that b.s. up on the internets for all to see, because it stays with you...like herpes or Bob.

Thanks to my main man John for finding this audio clip about introverts

And shoutout to Nyles for this:

So today I am home with young Nyles, thanks to a kid at daycare who made it their business to give my son some type of bug. He's congested, he's coughing, he has a low-grade fever, and in the 2 hours since his mother left, he has kicked my monkey ass. He's clingy, he's cranky, and he's looking at me like "Oh you thought you were going to work from home today buddy? Hells no!".

Speaking of working from home, the new job is challenging but in a good way. When you're new, you have to delicately toe that balance between learning the ropes and being assertive, and I think I've navigated that successfully. I'm the only black man in the office, which has never happened since I started working at 23. Virtually every race is represented in my office (including some black women), but there are no black men--and it isn't even a big deal, which is all the more surprising. Unlike my last office, where my boss and others seemed to be preoccupied with everything BUT work, my new colleagues are all about work, production, proposals, etc. In essence (and ebony), I made the right decision...plus I get to be involved with the writing, editing and organization of proposals which is what I've wanted to do for a minute now.

But the bad part of my decision to leave my old office involved the commute. My commute has gone from a 10 minute walk to a 60-75 minute train/bus ride, which tests my patience in every way you can imagine. People get in my face on the train, the crazies invade my personal space, and the train seems to be delayed daily. And the sad part is, if I drove back and forth, my commute would be even longer--that's the bad part about living in DC and working in Northern Virginia. But that's a minor complaint, other than that I'm happy. Why does this feel like I'm typing an email to a penpal in jail? Why, because I'm rusty that's why...

As I'm typing this email, I just got text from wife that read, "I'm fairly certain they didn't do it in his bottom though". In context, her text makes perfect sense because we were trying to figure out how Nyles' daycare took his temperature yesterday. Out of context, it looks an email from the Jerry Sandusky files....

Too soon?

I haven't bought the Nas, but everyone tells me it is epic..

Ok so I'm back after a brief hiatus. My friend Janelle asked me about the blog yesterday as did my brother. My main man Sabin asked about it today, and the wife constantly asks me. To be honest, I actually have had things to say over the past few weeks, I just brushed them aside. Not to mention, if I'm being honest with myself, writers write no matter what, no matter how difficult it is, and no matter who is or isn't reading. I fancy myself a writer, so I'm must put my head down and power through any slump that may come (u)pon me.

That's all for now....

Oh and guess who's saying da-da now?