FATHERHOOD

Yolanda and Eugene McKee 2016

FATHER

My father used to let me ride on the back of his motorcycle when I was barely five. "Hold on tight," he'd tell me. I'd squeeze my father around his side with all the strength my small arms could muster while we cruised on his bike through the South Side streets of Chicago. I figured my father was proud of me for how well I could hold on to him because he always let me ride with him, even against my mama’s wishes. "Don't have my baby on that damn bike, look at his leg," my mama said. A part on my father’s bike would burn my right calf, but I didn't care or cry because I wanted my father to know that I was tough. "Don't tell yo’ Mama you was on the bike!" was the beginning of many lies my father would make me complicit in. This brought me a pleasure I didn’t completely understand. I would bald faced lie to my mama without blinking. I don’t know any of the particulars that lead to my mama and father splitting up, but the days of separation from him threatened my mind to lose grip of him, so I held on tight.

Years passed by faster than us on his bike and at times when things got bumpy along the way, I remembered my father and knew that if I could just hold on tight, I'd make him proud of me. I can still hear my father's voice instructing me to behave and listen to my mama... It's funny! I have fleeting memories of this man, but as I sit here and write these words, I can vividly see his face and hear his voice. My father used to keep me draped in cowboy boots, trench coats, cap guns; big boy toys. But none of those things compared with just being in the same space with him. My Father lives in my heart and I do love him.

Years after he left us, I was in Catholic Grammar School, back in the early 90's, and Sister read the ten commandments from the Bible to our class. Out of all ten commandments, this one; ‘Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be longer upon the earth which the Lord thy God hath given thee,’ is the one that I have struggled with over the years.

‘Honor thy father.’ If I was to honor my biological father, it would only be due to the fact that he, along with my mama, gave me physical life. I never really knew him. I was a child the last time I saw him. And the last time I heard his voice was 19 years ago when I was in an Illinois work release program. If I did love my father, it was purely out of a sense of loyalty to a blood relative. So, when he invited me to come live with him in Nevada after my release from the work program, I laughed at him. And when he asked me what’s so funny, I said, "You."

I became a man through my own experiences in the streets of Chicago. What could this man possibly teach me now? And what love, care and tenderness could he stir in my heart after 19 years of absence? I never understood why he left my sister and me, nor did I care.

After his call I thought about how I had rejected him and I started to rethink what I had said. I realized that his voice brought out love in my heart for him that I did not know existed. I thought about his request to come join him in Nevada and thought, yes, I should go. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault that I fell victim to the street life.

By the time I had all this clear in my mind, the next call I got was that he had died. I didn’t know it then but that was the last time I would ever hear his voice. He died of a heart

attack a few days later. My anger turned to tears and I cried for him. I realized that I truly missed him all of those years. The little that I know about him lives on in my heart.

DADDY

Eugene McKee met my mama in the early winter of 1985. My mama had four kids already and another one swelling in her belly. By the time David was born in January 1986, Eugene had become ‘daddy.’

We were told to believe in the Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, but I knew better. One Christmas eve, while mama and daddy where out finishing up the last of their shopping, I went into their bedroom to watch TV. As I laid on the floor and watched, I noticed a white plastic bag sticking out of the side of the closet. It does not take much to raise my curiosity, and the sight of this bag was too much. I took a butter knife and pried open the door. Then, an avalanche of toys fell down on me. I called for my brothers, they rushed into the room and we enjoyed Christmas early!!

I knew daddy was Santa, the tooth fairy, my protector, and provider. We all knew it. That realization that day was validation, proof that this man loved us. Where did all that love come from for five children that technically were not his? He had two more kids with my mama and he loved them no more than he loved us.

My daddy worked 18 hour shifts some days to provide for his large family and he gave us a very comfortable life. Eugene McKee paid for our education knowing it would give us an advantage at success. Eugene McKee taught us valuable life lessons in confidence, self-esteem, respect, and discipline through his example of how he was as a man.

When I got old enough to understand the huge responsibility that my daddy carried on his shoulders for maintaining his family, my love for him grew with every second he spent away from us while at work. One day I got into a fight at school. My mama was at a doctor’s appointment so daddy had to take time off from work to come get me. Once home, daddy left me to myself. I was used to my daddy hollering at me when I did something silly but this silence was new. It made me think about my actions and then I understood how my behavior was affecting the whole family.

After a while, Daddy called me into his room and talked to me. I was wishing that he just gave me a spanking and got it over with. "What’s your problem?" he said. The question stumped me. I did not think that I had a problem, it was the other child’s fault not mine. Daddy explained to me the importance of being held accountable for my actions and of the responsibility that I have of being his son. "You can't be cutting up causing me to leave from work, you ain’t old enough to pay the bills." daddy said. Daddy’s conversation with me that day went deeper than any whoopin’; it healed me.

Eugene was not the one to spare the rod, but he would listen and take his children’s sides when he knew we were right. Eugene defended us like the lion he is. He risked his life and health for his family. I remember one time, someone robbed daddy for his wallet. Daddy took my big brothers with him and they stayed out all night until they came back with the wallet.

One day, some boys in our neighbor hood thought that it would be clever to set a garbage can on fire under our kitchen window. Daddy knew he had to set those boys straight. I was too small to be of any real help to daddy and my older brothers in the fight, but he gave me a pair of pliers and asked me to watch his back. This gesture filled me with love and admiration for this man that put his life in my hands. I had never felt real pride in myself until that moment. In a way, I still believe that I am still responsible for "watching his back."

Despite the valuable life-lessons he taught me so many years ago, I managed to swerve from the path that my daddy placed me on. He fought tooth and nail to set me straight. The thoughts daddy placed in my heart were seeds that I’m still learning to let bloom.

Somebody told me that my daddy passed. Fool!! Daddy is larger than the fragile flesh and cancer that consumed it!! Daddy is a man. A real man, he is my champion, my adept that still leads and guides me to this day and all the days to come. Every chance I had I told him that I loved him and thanked him for everything he’s done for me. Today, I continue to strive to manifest my appreciation of him in my actions. Because of Eugene, I honor the daddies all over the world.

My2Centz