The "Old Block" Tells All.

Look what came in my mailbox today! It must be a Christmas card from heaven! On the far left is the late L. O. Bruster-Smith, my mother, and on the far right, as you all know, is the late E. L. Bruster-Terrell, my grandmother! These are the most influential elder women in my short, but wonderful life! These two women instilled a diligent, steadfast, hard-working ethic in me since birth. (I fell out of the womb with a cotton sack on my back!) “If you want to eat, you got to work”, my grandmother would say. Mom broke it down a little gentler, but the message was clear, I was to become a human mule until my intellect matched or exceeded my physical strength, (that just happened yesterday, so I have been a mule for several decades). L.O. Bruster-Smith taught me to be a gentleman, “Never raise your hand to a woman, son. No matter what!” she would say. “Don’t cuss, don’t lie, and don’t steal!” she would add. “If you want something, work hard and you will get it someday.” I bought my firs

  What a stupid title! It is not a question, (although it does start with “why”). It is not a misspelled word, (although it should be “son”). However, there is no question that I love him, and have loved him since the day he was born. (And probably nine months before that too!) My son is the sun to me! He is my morning and my sunset, because he is the Chip that came from this Old Block, in more than just words. I never use the word “proud” when I speak or even think of my children, (as you know, “ Pride Goeth Before the Fall ”)! I simply say they make me happy! Anyone who knows the Old Block, remembers that he would not even date a girl unless she had babies already, because all my life I wanted to be called “Dad”! (I never had one, you know. At least not one that I met; only my BFAMs Dennis and Lewis had that privilege. Cliffy and I are still “in search of”.) So, I only brag about the pure joy they bring me, simply by being on the planet. There is nothing they ever have to do to earn

  Someone is always in need of love and prayer, and this lovely lady should be moved to the top of the list! I could sense her pain, even when she smiled, joked, and made light of her condition and situation. (I live with a terminally ill spouse who just survived colon cancer and has been a Sickle Cell champion since birth!) There is no way I could possibly love my wife more than I already do, but that fact does not prevent me from trying! The lady in question is a survivor and a champion in her own right; however, she has not fully and wholly embraced her championship persona, (pain and mental anguish could be contributing to her inability to overcome or even cope with her dilemma). It then falls upon us, as her human family, to brace her up, refill her spirit, and kick-start her will to continue here on the planet with us! There are professionals, clergy, and philanthropists among us who could reach out a helping, healing hand and relieve this brave soul of her daily burden, with a m

  First, let’s explore what most people feel is the “upside” of cheating. Whether you are a man or a woman, if you are involved in a committed, monogamous relationship, (marriage or otherwise), any outside romantic incursions are considered cheating, (unless you have the contractual consent of your significant other; i.e. “open relationship”). If you kiss another person intimately, you have crossed the line, and are officially a cheater. (“Congrats on your demotion from the fold of the faithful!”) To a cheater, the upside of unfaithfulness is the extra, physical, emotional, psychological, and raw sexual attention the cheater is getting. Does the cheater feel sexually or emotionally neglected at home? Does the cheater seek to discover how desirable he or she is to the rest of the world? Is the cheater medically or psychologically aroused 24/7, and “required” to exercise their right to “get off” whenever the need arises? (“Got a note from your doctor?”) Is the cheater simply following

  We are all seeds in Papa’s Vineyard, and I am blessed to be the fateful Patriarch of this tiny vine of devoted, familial female grapes. The little one is no longer with us. No, she has not passed on to that vaporous vale of eternal sleep; however, she has been spirited away from the fold by ignorance and ill intentions. So, yes, she is lost to the Bruster Clan, (although she was never truly a Bruster, which will be explained in detail someday). However, this is an account of the ones who remain, (the little one, at least, deserved an honorable mention as her departure from the vineyard was not completely by her own design). The Bruster girls are the perfect mixture of intelligence, beauty, and dedication. They all embody the spirit of “Papa Bruster”, who has gone on to lands unknown nearly a half-century before their birth, so in truth, they never met him, or visited his earthly vineyard as I did. It is uncanny, however, that they all carry the genetic cerebral markers that mad

  Discover your own heritage, and embrace it! If you fail to discover your own family roots you will inadvertently adhere to someone else’s roots, culture, and customs. We were all created for different climates, altitudes, and geographical locations. Our chemical makeup, complexions, and bone structure dictate our propensity to survive in a given situation or environment. Knowing this vital information can add years to your already-short existence. Other human cultures may appear more flamboyant or exciting than your own, prompting you to become someone or something that you are not. Be who and what you are, at all times. Avoid the urge to conform to the masses, simply to “fit in” with the crowd. I was often alone in school, college, and the military due to my non-conformist demeanor, but I was always happy being myself. Overseas, people, (mostly female people), gravitated to me because I never drank alcohol, rented an apartment in their neighborhoods, and learned enough of thei

  The fort was located at 9795 Garden Drive, in Hanford, California. It was a nice stretch of land with two separate dwelling places, a huge pig pen and a non-functioning well, (hence the need for a neighborhood outhouse). Water was “fetched” in four metal milk cans, and rationed out like some post-apocalyptic movie scene. (Do not ask where the water came from.) The larger dwelling belonged to P.T. Price and his wife O.C. Smith-Price. (Together, they had three children, Raymond, Shirley, and Evelyn.) O.C. Smith-Price was the birth mother of Booker T. Smith, my less-than-illustrious stepfather. When I met O.C., she was already bedridden and as cantankerous and mean as an old female pit bulldog protecting her litter. Speaking of her litter, to her they must have been above menial tasks because O.C. would always call me when she needed something basal or downright filthy done. The Price home was a real house, made of contemporary wood, plaster, and metallic materials. Our “house”, (

  It is more than just a mathematical equation. If we as husbands could solve, dissolve, and resolve the “if factor” in those magnificent creatures that we are so blessed to call “wife”, we could discover every wonderful woman in the world in just one person. At one time, the number of women in the world eclipsed the number of men by a large margin. Today, that is not so. Players and Playboys had their pick of the litter back then, and built unsanctioned harems of internationally beautiful women all over the planet. There are still a few clusters of “Ballers”, “Players” and “Playboys” in circles that we regular guys do not and cannot infiltrate, because of financial illness. (Luckily it is not yet a terminal illness.) The sexual climate has changed drastically since those days and has evolved into something that challenges the legal, moral, and social systems to keep up or be trampled under the stampeding hooves of carnal insurrection. Gone are the days of men only seeking women as sex

How do you measure the stature, significance and supremacy of a man? Do you check his bank account, or his net worth? (Lawyers do.) Do you weigh his life’s work or his accomplishments in the world of business? Is he a famous actor, sports figure or entertainer? Does his name appear on buildings, build boards or buses? Can you remember his name better than the members of your own family? Who the heck is he, anyway? Look at the image above. Study it as if a college quiz was forthcoming at the end of this blog. Boxing gloves! He must be a famous boxer, whom you never heard of right? Check out the hairdo, facial hair and shirt. You can find nothing there to give away his identity, right? He was just a regular guy, by all counts. His name is and was Lewis Chester Brewer, (it should have been Bruster, but he came into the world through a different maternal portal. Darn those maternal portals!) He died in my arms, several years ago, coughing up blood, and gasping for air to the last few sec

She is always there when a moment of monumental importance is about to occur. How does she know that this instant she has chosen to capture will be the one that everyone will remember, for all time? Is she clairvoyant, or somehow gifted by God to see the future; then imprison the moment on what is now known as film? What makes her so gifted and so insightful as to be the one and only “life photographer” who follows me and mine about snapping gem after gem? Is it the fact that she practices and teaches Yoga? Does the ability to contort her nimble body into various unearthly poses awaken some majestic power in her cell phone that extends itself to her eyes and fingers to “snap” that perfect image? Is she somehow in tune with the cosmos and privileged to know my every move, before I make it? Can she be the embodiment of a celestial being, who visits this plane of existence only to record and catalog my most significant performances? Where was she when I was a small boy, nearly drowning i

As a veteran of the Viet Nam war, I can tell you, unequivocally, that the battle of love and marriage can only be won via conditional surrender. Yes, there are conditions that need to be met on all fronts. First of all, she, (your significant other), is not the enemy, (hopefully). She should always be approached with a proverbial “white flag” when any confrontational parlez is imminent. Never approach a disagreement with guns blazing, because marriage is a fragile entity that can easily be demolished, by the simplest salvo. You never want to be angry or confrontational with your mate, because later in life you will understand that she is all things good and special in your life. According to marital law, her authority regarding your well-being and financial status supersedes any blood relation, unless you have specified otherwise in legal documents. She is you, and you are her. Husband and wife are the two that become one. So, your main condition with her should be “Love always, and

Come on, dad. Wake up! You are the ultimate educator and adjudicator in your home. It is time to step up and give your progeny a fighting chance. Teach them everything, but when they are old enough, “Let them drive their own car.” You provide the GPS and maybe a little fuel, but the destination should be their own. You should only intervene to prevent them from driving off a cliff or having a head-on collision with misfortune. Daughters are very special. They get their first free hugs from you. (Little boys and big boys want them to pay dearly and severely for symbols and actions that denote love and affection.) Don’t let your daughter leave the house hungry for love, hugs or kisses. Fill her tank up with the good stuff, so she can make it back home safely, to get filled up with more free hugs again and again. Sons, however, are knuckleheads until they grow out of the “passenger” phase of life. You know how they are. They follow and emulate the “alpha dog” in their pack, and perfor

  Okay, ladies, turn your heads away for a moment. I need to render some mental images and pose a few queries to the men folk in attendance today. Yes, this is the “Old Block Church of What is on Your Filthy Mind”. You are a man, right? That instantly qualifies you as a purveyor of the almighty three “F’s”! (Food, Fighting, and F*cking, for the coarse among us. Gentlemen never use such terms, whether in mixed company or not, and certainly not in church!) So, the question on the table is, “Can you discern whether she is a flower or a weed?” Look around the congregation, and point that powerful digit of discernment at each lady in attendance, asking yourself, (or the digit), “Is she a flower or a weed?” (If you are a gynecological botanist, you are instantly disqualified from this exercise. You know way too much already!) Allow me to lay the groundwork for this little social experiment. Some girls are like delicate, fragrant flowers, but if they are in someone else’s garden, you can

Love, death, and break-ups hit us like a ton of 90-year-old bricks, falling from a demolished brownstone apartment house. If we are strong enough and quick on our feet, we can survive the imminent danger of cascading bricks and debris by preemptively side-stepping the entire cataclysm with a hardened heart. However, hardening one’s heart carries its own harbingers of misery, such as isolation, loneliness, and eternal “singletude”, (Yes, I made that word up. You’ll get used to it.). Break-ups, divorces, and trial separations are easy compared to death. (There are plenty of songs and movies that soften that blow for you.) Death is Mighty Mike Tyson rushing you from across the ring, with nothing but “bad intentions” on his mind! Death sucks all of the oxygen out of your lungs; weakens your knees so you cannot stand; and makes you consume heavy volumes of tissue paper for your weeping eyes and runny nose. Yes, it hurts, but that is not all! The damage is irreversible and often recurring, l

I am an old-school war veteran, with new-school ideas, and a burning desire for perpetual knowledge and life appreciation. (I was the CEO of Sew Wonderful Fashions, LLC; Vice President of New Power Source, Inc.; and I am currently Secretary of the Board with Tekura Jegnas, Inc., and I continue to write and design products at my leisure.) At my core, I am a "People Person", who focuses more on character than appearance or status. (I, myself was raised as a migrant worker, in the fifties.) I have an affinity for the elderly, who need selfless love and constant reinforcement, as well as youngsters, who require persistent guidance and tempered discipline. I am an internationally-published writer, former Hollywood stunt-fight coordinator, vocalist and spokesperson, and graphic artist. However, for this endeavor, I embody the persona of a consummate gamer, passionate husband and father, as well as a lover of beauty, (in all forms). I died in 2016, right after my long-awaited retire