The "Old Block" Tells All.

  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

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

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