I’m Back

Well, haven’t been writing on OD much the last little bit, not as much as usual anyway. Things here are status quo. Brandon is working so I haven’t seen him. Bradley is still mad, more on that in a minute, and Brian is doing well, going to school and behaving himself as usual, lol. He doesn’t know how much it means to me to not have to worry about what he’s up to all the time.

Had an incident on my last day of work that kind of rocked me a bit. I was walking down the main hallway when an offender who has been in and out many times asked my name. I asked her why she asked, because she KNOWS my name already. She told me one of her "celly’s", or cell mates, wanted to know. I asked her why, and she wouldn’t answer me at first. I got a little irritated at the evasiveness and asked, perhaps not as nicely as I could have who the person was that was asking questions about me. She said her name was Courtney Melton.

Well isn’t that just great….Courtney is my young cousin twice removed. She always called me "Uncle John" due to the age difference. Her mother and I were very close growing up. I have changed many diapers that held Courtney’s tiny rear end inside, although I haven’t seen her in at least ten years. She grew up and away from the extended family, and after her mother died, I lost all contact with her five years ago. Now she is in the penitentiary for drugs.

I found her crying and talked to her for a moment and explained that I have to report that there is a family member on the unit and that she will most likely be shipped out to another unit to prevent any possibility that she will receive special treatment. Of course she got more upset. Her fear, and it is a real one, is that if she’s at another unit, her family won’t be able to come see her. There are no facilities for women nearby, and none of them are convenient. I hate that, but I won’t have her mistakes affect my job. I have enough of that at home. We’ll see what happens when I go back to work on Saturday.

Brad got in touch last week, said he felt like he should make the first move since I hadn’t contacted him first. The next day he said he had talked to the high school and that they were going to let him back in. He asked if he could use the truck to get back and forth. I thought about it and told him yes, as long as he used it ONLY for work and school. Of course he didn’t listen. Yesterday I had to go to the school and meet with his teacher, so I talked to the Assistant Principal about Brad. Basically, she hasn’t seen or spoken to him at all, so I went to the director of the program he was in. He hasn’t seen Brad in two months, and no one in the the program had spoken to him. Agitated, I went to his job, and he has been fired for being late and, suprise suprise, showing up at work under the influence.

So, I took the truck back and told him I could not help him any longer in any way. He did the usual; "That’s not what I said", "You’re going to believe what you want to believe", "I could have stayed in school/work if you hadn’t taken my truck" and the favorite in our top ten greatest excuses hit list…." They’re lying and you believe them over your own son". So, maybe not back to square one with him, but pretty close. I can’t even get all that worked up about it right now. I just pray for him and hope that one day he comes to his senses. It’s up to him though.

I decided to get out of the house for an evening, so I accepted a dinner invitation from a woman who is interested in me. We had a very nice dinner, along with her daughter and granddaughter. I work with her daughter, that’s how we met. The problem with any future between us is the lady is a bit of a racist. One of her pet peeves is that her other daughter is dating a black man.

Okay, I am not one to argue with anyone’s ideas on how to live or think, BUT, my youngest son is bi-racial, and his girlfriend is black, my first wife was hispanic and quite honestly, if anyone has an opinion on any of it that is in ANY way derogatory, keep it to yourself.

Martin Luther King, Jr had it right when he said that a person should be judged not by the color of their skin, but the content of their character. Yes, my son is brown skinned; very brown skinned. I knew that before I adopted him, it doesn’t matter to me. I pay his feed bill, I cloth him, send him out into the world each day, and love him. It’s not anyone else’s business.

And as to the girlfriend, she is stunningly beautiful, seems to care deeply for my baby boy, and is a Christian. I tend to eavesdrop, so I heard her tell him in no uncertain terms that she is a virgin and intends to stay one until she marries. She does volunteer work for the elderly, and works in a food pantry to feed the less fortunate. Wow, I can see why her skin color should bar her from seeing my son. I could never want him to fall for a young woman with those kinds of moral deficiencies either. If she were white she’d be perfect, but let’s undercut HIS happiness and association with a positive role model because she’s black. This is the Dirty South, and folks don’t hold with that down here! Brian may experience some racist behavior in this world because of his appearance, but he will never hear it at home or from anyone even vaguely associated with us. Or only once, because they will then no longer be associated with us.

He, and Melissa as far as I’ve seen over the last months, are model kids in every way. It’s unrealistic to think this is a forever thing with them, they’re only seventeen. But a young lady like her gives him something to aim for down the road when he’s looking for a partner, and I’m good with that. Every young man should be fortunate enough to date a young woman with such standards. And every young lady should count herself lucky to meet a kid like Brian. So, anyone that doesn’t agree can most certainly bend down and plant a kiss on my old, flabby, cellulite covered rear end.

And now I’m off my soapbox.

On another note, I’ve lost seven more pounds and another pants size, only 29 pounds to go to get to my goal weight.  Getting a little excited, I’m no longer the fat kid and I’m smaller than I’ve been in nearly three decades. 

And now, here is a collage of my little Brian through the years.