So, to keep the party going, today's blog was written by another father I know and love. And yes, y'all know him too. He's my boy, my ace, another SU alum (we thick up in here) and he's a great dad. Give it up for Dre aka The Black Cloud.
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Old Yeller Lives Up Here - Protective Dads
As a young'un I remember those Dads. The protective ones. They weren't strict, but you knew they meant business...and they knew what you were all about before you rang the bell. That's why my friends usually asked me to ring the bell...because even the protective Dad's liked me.
ding dong
"Hello?" He looks down at me.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Williams. My name is Andre, I'm in Shawanda's* class at IS59. She said we could come by because she wanted to come outside to play with us."
"Oh...Hi Andre." (half smirk) "Shawanda!"
She comes to the door surprised he actually leaves and doesn't stare me down. Meanwhile, there are 5 other kids with bicycles standing behind me on the sidewalk looking like rabid wolves.
Lets replay that...
"Good afternoon, Mr. Williams."
[Proper greeting and respectful. I'm not selling anything.]
"My name is Andre, I'm in Shawanda's* class at 59."
[Who I am and how the hell his daughter knows me]
"She said we could come by because she wanted to come outside to play with us."
[I didn't just ring your bell, if you beat anyone, it's your daughter for saying I could come by]
Worked EVERY TIME.
It even worked with Mr. Wilson! Mr. Wilson was no joke. God bless his soul. He had the stature of President Obama and the voice of Darth Vadar. I promise he burned out brains with his stern stare. It just so happens his daughter Deanna* was the brightest, prettiest girl in class. And she happened to have an onion at 14!...well an onion for us in 8th grade. But hell, I also had a chick in my 8th grade class that was slim, but had DD's (must've been the steroids in the chicken).
I digress...
Mr. Wilson was a protective Dad and we ALL knew he meant business. There was no dropping by Mr. Wilson's house and mumbling. His eyebrow would arch and the offender would get the head shake from Deanna through the screen like "Dummy! Why'd you say 'Hey whassup'!!??"
I look around today and there aren't enough protective dads in the world. It shows in the half-assed way men approach women. I see them honk the horns for the girl to come outside instead of ringing the bell. They wear do-rags as they enter the house instead of whipping that sucker off down the block. They call and say "Shamieka? Shamieka?" Not "hello. How are you?" (tsk tsk tsk) And that all ends up showing in the wayward relationship later.
Now a protective mother is no joke - but for a young man, walking into a protective dad at the door is like approaching The Sphinx.
So...now years later, I have a 10 year old girl to raise and an 8 week old on her way up. I'm not strict, but I am protective. I may be the Sherman Elementary version of Mr. Wilson. Why do I think this? One of my daughter's friends hung up on me when I answered the phone instead of asking to speak with her...and it was a GIRL!
She admitted and apologized later when she saw me talking to her father. Although, she doesn't know we were just talking about this sushi he makes. LOL
ding dong
"Hello?" I look down at the boy.
"Hi..umm...can Imani come out to play?"
"What's your name?" My eye brow cocks.
"Apernumo*"
"What was that?"
"Apernumo"
"What's your last name Apernumo?"
I hear my wife giggle in the living room.
I see him thinking "SHIT!!" As I glance over his shoulder at the two other boys on bikes looking at me like deer in headlights.
"Mukar"
"Apernumo Mukar." I repeat and think about it, knowing that half second makes his heart drop. "Apernumo, Imani isn't here. She's at karate class.[Read: I'm preparing her to whup some ass] I'll tell her Apernumo Mukar came by with...two boys, one with blonde hair and the other dark hair with Harry Potter glasses.[A joke a elementary kid gets and lightens the moment]"
"Ok. Thank you, sir." He runs down the steps to retrieve his bike and his strength.
"Don't mention it, Apernumo Mukar."
The next day Apernumo didn't come to the door. It was David. The blonde kid.
"Hi. My name is David. I'm in Imani's class at Sherman. Can Imani come out to play?" [Not bad...]
"David." I say.
"Yes?"
"What's your last name?"
Neither Mr. Wilson nor Old Yeller got nothing on me! My daughters may not appreciate it as much in their youth, but they will when it comes time to be in a relationship. They'll know that not just anyone can come into their house or step up to the door. And that's a metaphor and a half for you.
Happy Father's Day to my protective dads.
Andre aka The Black Cloud
*All names have been changed to protect the embarrassed.
