From the Daddy Diaries: An Moment of Honesty

The connection we have to it all, such as the memories, such as our feelings, such as the end result which is emotion and such as our ability to recount the times is all we have. Years will pass and our memories become part of our possessions, as if to have them folded neatly and kept away like a tiny little keepsake. And I agree, yet bitter sweet at times, these are the memories of a time that will never come again. These are the moments from whence we came.

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A Note

Dear Parents:

This note that I send you is something that comes from both, my experience as a son and as a dad. This comes from a person who has seen both sides of the good and bad. Not unlike anyone else, this note comes from a person who understands mistakes, misgivings, apprehensions, anger and frustration. I am no guru or professional but more so, I am humble and real. 

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So They Call This Progress

I am approaching the end of this journal. The ideas of my relationships or my nights out until the early hours of morning and the roads I’ve taken are an outline of my life. I suppose this journal will be limited to a few more entries, which means I have to plan for what’s ahead of me now. 

As I write this, we are approaching the end of the year. We are a few days short of Christmas in New York City. We are a few days away from the big ball dropping in the middle of Times Square on New Year’s Eve. The year will be 2022, which sounds crazy to me because I was born in 1972 and the ideas of the year 2000 were much different from what we thought it would be.

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Just Some Nostalgia

There was a time when families gathered together. We sat in living rooms around televisions. We used to watch shows. We watched the classic sitcoms and laughed as if nothing in the world could ever be this funny. We watched shows with actors and actresses. There was no such thing as reality stars. We called reality television “The news.” There was no such thing as reality television. At the most we had a show called Battle of the Network Stars. This aired for the last time in 1979, which I slightly remember.

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From The Daddy Diaries: A Letter From Me To You

If I could tell you anything, I suppose I would tell you that the sky is yours. If I could, I would tell you to look around and say, “This is all yours!” I would say this because here you are, swinging at the world for the very first time. There’s so much to see. There is so much to do. This is your life. It’s not your Father’s or your Mother’s. This has nothing to do with me or anyone else in the world. Not your aunts or uncles, not your cousins, or your brothers or sisters or friends and extended family. This is for you.

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When the Rain Comes

I am awaiting a storm and the sky looks angry as ever. The heavens are layered with a cloak of heavy gray clouds; the air is so humid that the heat is mad and only to grow madder. Meanwhile, all we can do is wait for the rain to come. But I don’t mind. I don’t mid storms the way other people do. I don’t even mind the temporary interruptions of service and I laugh about people’s last minute dash to the grocery store. They run crazy; as if the world is about to end but goddamnit; at least there’ll be toilet paper in the bathroom and butter and milk in the fridge. Otherwise, all there is to do is remain hopeful the storm will pass without too much of a hassle. But I’m not hassled.

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From the Daddy Diaries: All I Want For You

There they are. See them?
These are the kids today and someday, they will inherit the earth. By the way, you are part of this and so am I. We are all a part of this. But either way, I see them.They are at the starting line of a new life. They are young and hopeful. They are only old enough to be hopeful because their life has yet to be molested by experience. This means they are still pure.
They are the youth and the future. They are the young hopefuls, entering into a new chapter of life with enough energy to take on the world.

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A Prose From the Daddy Diaries

You were small once.          (Remember?)

I can recall the look in your eyes. I can remember the glare on your face while twirling a little sparkler and the amazement was wild. You were little. You were young as ever and the world was so new. Everything was so big and amazing, like the colored flashes in the nighttime sky on the 4th of July. 
There is a picture I have of you somewhere. You were in a little blue princess dress. It was Halloween and your little plastic orange pumpkin was filled with candy. I can see this in my mind. I can see your smile. I can see the darkness behind you and the street we used to live on. 

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Written for the Other Side of Father’s Day

I suppose there are things you never had the chance to say. Then again, I suppose there are things I never had the chance to tell you. I’m not sure why this happens. I’m not sure how. I only know that life goes this way sometimes. This is unfortunate but true. Not everyone gets along and not everyone likes each other, simply because they are supposed to. Not everyone fits into the typical family mold. And what I mean is regardless of our roles in one another’s life, not everyone gets along, even if we want to.

To be fair, I write this from both a personal perspective as well as an onlookers. I write this as someone who has seen this struggle from an outsider’s point of view and as someone that has lived through this with personal experience. I also write this without judgment or prejudice.

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