AuthorTeevee

Ran, played, yelled as little boys.

We were children until
we weren't.

For years, I struggled with my daughters having a stepfather.

Not his fault. He didn't do anything wrong.

I went in for the bro hug. Bro was like: Damn. Your pecs are firm. Hey now... you noticed?

I peaked in 3rd grade.

I've been trying to get back to that place ever since. No luck.

I peaked in 3rd grade.

I've been trying to get back to that place ever since. No luck.

I was reminded that I have always been a writer and a poet.

Life stacked in on top of them, decade by decade. I forgot who I was underneath all of it.

I was having a sweet dance with Anastacia, my youngest daughter. Somewhere in that dance, something broke open. When the song ended I kissed her, then went looking for a dark corner to let the tears flow.

I try to visit my parents as often as I can. Most times I can't. And when I do, it takes real mental prep. I walk out depressed, shaken, sometimes it takes hours to come back to myself. The energy in that house has always been... a lot.

Our father-daughter dance took us both back to those younger days of dancing our bachatas. We were both babies.

So a few months ago, I did something about it. I asked my ex-wife's husband to meet me, man to man, face to face.

I have no degrees.

I do have certifications. One of them took me almost ten years and several attempts to finish. A Degree in Funny. Improv comedy.