On Fatherhood, Manhood & Becoming Better Ancestors.
Always starting something new. Well, almost always. So many good things are going well in my life, yet so many things yet to come. And to accomplish these new things I have to break some of the old ways of doing things. Which only seems right. As a part of this effort, I needed to start waking up early. Way earlier than I have ever thought possible. I need to wake up earlier to get more...
I’m coming up on 7 years since I quit my management job. 7 years! Holy shit! This article hits so close to home that I almost feel that I could have written it. (If was better with the written word) I had a couple of supportive girlfriends (not at the same time, that would just be scandalous) that always wondered where my mind was. Why couldn’t be present. They could tell my mind was...
He loved me. I love him. He tried. But he was wrong. And that’s ok. I’ve struggled coming to terms with many of the scars, both internal and external, from my childhood. I was disciplined and slapped around quite a bit. During one of these disciplining sessions, my father slapped me on the side of the face and damaged my ear drum. I can’t put my head underwater. For this reason...
That’s what I try to give them to the best of my ability with my limited resources. Most on the cheap despite appearances. We all tell stories about our childhoods. Those stories are a part of our identity. What we did or didn’t do? Who we did them with? Why they are important to us? These experiences shape us. Make us. I want to make sure that the stories they tell my grandchildren...
Post by Teevee Aguirre.
It’s easy for me. I’m just her son.
I can’t truly understand,
How far she has come.
How hard it must be to raise a boy
to raise a man.
To teach him to work hard
and be all that he can.
I look back at her struggle
and feel her pain.
Her children she smuggled
and lived in shame.
Lived in the shadows and
hoped for the best.
Watch the video and find out how I reacted.
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For the first ever
He held me. He hugged me.
With a tight embrace.
Face pressed up against me.
I felt love. Pride. Joy.
For the first time ever.
He made me feel loved.
He made me feel like a good son.
Just with a hug.
He pulled me in close.
For the first time ever.
Unlike many people I have always been a really skinny guy. As you can see in the picture. The picture below was taken approximately 2-3 years ago. Interestingly enough, and I had already gained some weight from a couple of years back. I never liked that version of me. I felt like I had a better me hiding under that thin frame. Throughout the years I had attempted to work out consistently on my...
We are all products of our upbringing. Good or bad. My father was an alcoholic. Beat me. Beat us. Yet, I loved him. I wanted to be him. I wanted him to love me. As a child I never heard many words of encouragement. Much less of love. In talking to other Mexican children from my generation I’ve found it to be a theme. I needed his love! I needed his respect. I needed to know that I was...
On Fatherhood, Manhood & Becoming Better Ancestors.