December is a fickle bitch....

There are three men I have always credited (or blamed) for making me the man I am today. 

I always referred to them as BCD.

Charles N (B)arrack Sr - the head honcho. The creator of little ole Tic Tac! The older I get the more I see how wise he was. (Funny how that happens) He wasn’t the largest man in the room, but to me, he was bigger than anyone I ever met. Being that I got my emotional capability directly from him, I never told him how great I felt he really was. He wasn’t the best at relating emotions and right up til the end he always tried to take care of us. I tell myself he found peace the last few months as he was calmer (though still cranky), he had an "energy" about him each morning (though he still moved slow) and he had a twinkle in his eye I hadn’t seen in years. A twinkle that only came when my newborn son was in his lap. Which, quite honestly, was just about any waking hour he had the energy to do so.

It’s been 20 years since we’ve had a disagreement.

He passed away on the kitchen floor due to a heart attack on December 10, 1998, and I miss him and learn more from him every day.

Jerome D "Jerry" (C)umberland - Mr C! This man here..... if you knew him you know how, even if you just passed him in the hallway of high school, he somehow affected your life.

He was my band director. The one that inspired me towards a music education degree. Though life took me a different way, I feel as I’m a music education guy anyways. 

Mr. C was a large man with more passion for music, perfection and inclusion than I’ve ever seen... yes I put perfection and inclusion in the same sentence. He demanded and expected perfection when we played. He achieved it too. But, if you ever wanted to be in the band; even you sucked worse than the definition of the word suck, he included you and found a way. 

In the four years he taught me, he became a father figure for me and treated me as I were his son. If I fucked up, and I did so often, he would be the first in my ass and then I’d have to explain it to Dad later that night. He was there for breakups and heart break, drunken nights and hungover mornings. He pushed me to be a better man because he knew it was inside me somewhere. "Deeper than you are tall" apparently.... or so he told me. A great man who I cherish deeply and miss greatly. 

We lost Mr C on December 29, 2013. 

Ernest Eugene "Mr D" Dawkins

Mr. (D) was my Boy Scout master when I was a much younger idiot. He took me as soon as they threw me out of the cub scouts and pushed me all the way through my Eagle Scout. All the stumbles of life my dad had to endure, he too endured as our lives and my growing up deeply entertwined. Mr. D taught me the little things in life. How to tie a square knot, first aid and most importantly, you don’t always have to be a dick just because you’re good at it.

I guess some lessons just can’t be taught....

I’ve seen this man as angry as possible at me, and happy as possible at me. He was definitely a second father and he pushed me just as my own.

I bumped into Mr D awhile back. Though moving slower, a little hunched over and eyebrows needing a massive trimming, he glared at me over the rim of his glasses and have me a half smile and gentle nod as we parted ways. That little smile and half nod hit me like a brick as he said "We always knew you’d do fine".

We....

He never took credit for anything he taught me. But in our talked about mom and dad passing, and Mr C passing, that little thing of "we" hit me hard. Not really sure why. But it did.

Late last night while chatting with a friend from waaaayyyy back, Boy Scouts came up and it was said.... hitting me like another brick.

Ernest Eugene Dawkins passed away December 20, 2018...

I’ve lost all my Dads.....

December is a fickle pissy bitch. It has somehow managed to take all the formative men in my life.... I don’t get it. I don’t like it.