Previously Known As Chopperpapa.com

I had a golden childhood in several respects. But one in particular was having both sets of grand parents until I was thirty. I know of very few others who can claim speed dial to that kind of wisdom for so long.  My grandfathers were vastly different men in both personality and accomplishments. My paternal grandfather served in WWII on the USS Alvin C Cockrell, worked in a plant making speedboats, and lived a very reserved existence. My other grandfather was his polar opposite, which might explain why they weren’t very close. With a meager elementary education, fifth grade at best, he was arguably the wealthiest man on Yellow Creek Road, sought after far and wide for his hunting expertise, and quick to tell any number of hunting or horse stories. By comparison, think Jerry Clower.  ** Like most grandkids, I never truly appreciated their presence or perspective until they were gone. Nonetheless, I did possess just enough humility to accumulate a few nuggets of wisdom from them before I

There’s been only two times in my life where I felt like a rock star. Those times when everybody loves you, has all eyes on you and hangs on your every word.  The first was in the 6th grade when I won the Charlotte Elementary School Stomper Pull-Off (click the link if you need a reminder) after my mother surprised me with a silver, snub-nosed Peterbilt Stomper 4X4 that yanked its entire weight in nails, screws, and washers on a make-shift sled. On that day, obviously not being able to see me in the next row over in Mrs. Heath’s class any other time, Tammy Moneypenny finally talked to me.   The other was my wedding day.  ** The culmination of nine-months preparation replete with two open bars, DJ, 5-course meal, and a hundred or so of our closest friends and family was the stage for the event. The last addition to these nuptials was a lone photographer whose duty it was to get the bride and groom in as many photos as possible without earning the label paparazzi.  Little could our photog

I had driven through the neighborhood countless times, it was less than a ½ mile from where we lived and made for a dreamy alternative to the busy commerce laden street that was our standard route to the grocery store, pizza parlor, or dry cleaners.  “If I could live in a house like that, I’d finally have made it!” If I thought that once I thought it a thousand times passing by this particular home. It had a traditional feel with a wonderfully graded lot, which meant it sat slightly higher than its surrounding neighbors like Mount St. Helen among foothills. The yard was perfectly manicured with seasonal flowers and shrubbery which would have given any royal garden a run for its money. And its three-car garage simply validated my attitude that it encapsulated the pinnacle of the American dream. And much like Ralphie Parker staring at that Red Rider BB Gun in Goldblatt’s store window, I had lofty ambitions of having a dream of my own.    Little could I have imagined in just a few short y

Earlier this year I wrote article entitled, Would you let you date your daughter? It turned out to be one of those proverbially stakes in the ground for any father to a daughter.  The title of the piece put forward a simple but powerful concept, would my actions and behaviors as a man, husband, and father still be as acceptable if it was my daughter’s boyfriend, fiancé, or spouse who was doing them instead of me? When looked at through the lens of this question it puts an entirely different spin on how fathers should perceive their conduct and live their lives.  As the dad to a 10-year-old girl I am growing more and more anxious about the boys she will eventually encounter and the man she will one day fall in love with and hopefully marry. I wonder about the kind of person he will be, what character and standards will he have, and how will he view her as a woman and possible mother. I also question the example I am setting for her right now.  How are the behaviors she sees in me influe

I wasn’t always such a nice guy. There was a season of my life where I would lie and manipulate to get what I wanted. I was calculating and exact; like a master of deception I knew what to do, what to say, and how to say it. I would promise to call – and wouldn’t. I said I really cared - but I didn’t. I’d act excited the next morning – but I wasn’t. Shamefully women represented for me a means to an end and as soon as the mission was complete, the victory achieved, and the thrill gone – so where they.  I wish I could admit that this behavior happened during a time when games and dishonor could be blamed on youthful self-centeredness – but that too would be a lie. The fact of the matter, this narcissism occurred not so long ago when I knew better and had a very important reason to act so – I was a father to a daughter.  As I think back at my actions in those days I am appalled at the hypocrisy. Here I was, this father to a beautiful little girl, engaging in a lifestyle that I would have

I’ve held senior leadership positions within corporate America for over a decade. I’ve led and worked through countless others to get projects completed or goals achieved and from all of the experience I’ve learned one essential truth regarding people – I can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do. I don’t believe I can give a group of associates a pep talk that will suddenly cause them to run through brick walls, nor do I buy into popular notions of how I can directly ‘motivate’ anyone.  From my many failures I’ve come to realize it doesn’t matter how much I beg, bribe, plead, or prod, unless that person decides to act – on his or her own – I can’t change the mind. But when I stop to think about it why would I want to? If I must coerce and cajole another person to do a job how much passion and commitment will there be and how good of a job will they do?  ** Down the street from the Queen lives an eleven-year-old girl. On the surface she looks the part of any classic American

Parenting isn’t easy. Anyone saying otherwise has never been one  - or at least a good one. When I became divorced in ’05 my children were 10 and 18 months old –young by any standard. I can still remember the trepidation that first weekend alone with them. Would I be able to do this on my own?   That first year was frequently agonizing and consistently chaotic. It’s sad to say but early on I regularly dreaded those Friday afternoons and Sunday night couldn’t get here fast enough. This single parenting thing wasn’t something I signed up for and without a local support network I was doing it on my own. The simple act of going out to eat, the three of us, was such a production with diaper bags, strollers and bottles it became grueling at best.   There were lots of times when I wanted nothing more than to unload them both, head south, and never look back. My entire life had been turned upside down and not only was it taxing it was seriously cramping my re-emerging social life.  Who in thei

  It’s kept me awake more nights than one, and for a good reason. Research suggests the average age boys are introduced to pornography is eleven, as in tuck-me-into-bed-daddy eleven. ‘Average’ also points to the shocking reality that many are coming across porn at even younger ages. My fears are further heightened due to my own documented struggles. I’ve been where the porn path leads; it’s not a beautiful place.   There’s no manual on how best to discuss this with our sons. And depending on where you look there is an outright contradiction if such conversations are even necessary. Many absurdly claim that porn is a healthy way for young boys to discover and grow in their sexuality. Furthermore, those same ‘experts’ believe that to criticize or condemn pornography only promotes future sexual repression in adulthood. That to throw a negative spin on porn only results in harmful guilt and shame. Yet given our overall cultural addiction to sex, and the documented effects persistent porn u

Language is important. What we say about a thing says as much about us as it does the thing. Take relationships and particularly cheating. Those with little tolerance describe it with that Old Testament word, ‘adultery.’ Others with less conviction may use, ‘affair.’ The watered-down terms ‘infidelity’ or ‘extramarital relationship’ have become popular for the more progressive.  This same phenomenon can be said for countless areas of life. How we refer to families is no exception.  There are many labels for the family created when one or both spouses bring children into a new marriage. ‘Stepfamily’ remains most common. ‘Blended family’ gets regular airplay. There is also ‘jigsaw family’, ‘non-nuclear family’, and ‘bonus family.’ Yet for those living it every day, these names may not seem appropriate. ‘Stepfamily’ makes it seem a step down-from something better. ‘Jigsaw’ is too closely associated with a horror movie. ‘Bonus’ seems overly Pinterest. ‘Non-Nuclear’ is candidly weird.  The

No question finds its way to my inbox more than about dating divorced dads. In most cases, they are from women never married or with children who have fallen for a divorced father. Their cries for help, an if you read them you’d agree, are for me to explain these men’s confusing and frustrating behaviors - why they act how they do in the relationship. Yet, I’ve noticed each answer (and I do answer every email) has a familiar ring to a much more fundamental question:  “How can I know this guy is ready for a relationship?”. It’s a fair and relevant question. It’s not easy to know only by looking. So, in hopes of helping others, I’ve listed four things women should pay the most attention. I’ve also included what you may want to do in response.   The Clock – This is what I call ‘table stakes,' meaning, for any woman this should be a deal killer. Divorce is a gut wrenching, life wrecking event. Regardless of how bad the marriage, how long he slept in the spare bedroom, and how happy he

It continues to amaze me just how few women realize the power they hold over romantic relationships. I’m convinced that if they did, and they used that influence honestly, sincerely, and to its full potential, overnight we would see a drop in the number of broken hearts and broken dreams. And truthfully, we'd likely see better men in the world.  I was again reminded of this by an email from a reader.  She begins,  My boyfriend and I have been dating for almost a year now. He and his ex are separated (they were never married but cohabited for about 3-4 years) but they co-parent their 2 little boys, 3 and 4 years old. He takes a very active role in his children's lives. Although he lives in his own apartment now, he shares an amicable relationship with his ex and he will often go over in the morning and evenings after work to see his children. I have met his kids, and we get along quite well, but I imagine that in their innocence, they see me as another adult who plays with them.

Most parents rank the 'sex talk' about equal to public speaking on the list of things most dreaded in life. Few moments are more unsettling - for the parent and the child. But adding porn to that discussion brings a new 'ick' to the conversation. So much that the majority of parents simply avoid the whole thing.  I have written openly about my prior experiences with pornography from that very first Playboy Magazine at seven through my nearly decade struggle with addiction in my thirties. I have also written about how that history became the motivation to talk with my own kids about sex, and pornography, beginning when they were still very young, for some parents probably too young.  I was no less terrified the first time I brought it up when they were early in elementary school. But I knew then that sex was not a 'talk', but instead it was a 'conversation' lasting many years. With no need to rush I felt I could gently ease into it. I started by first exp

What still amazes me most about divorce is how two people, once committing to love, honor, and cherish each other till death do part, almost overnight wishes to see that qualifier become a reality. Well, maybe not technically dead, but at least out of the way, vanished, or forgotten. This can be especially true when the complications of co-parenting are involved. For the better part of the last thirteen years as a divorced father, I have often felt my place is to keep quiet and the checks coming. It was usually the case we were more adversaries than teammates.  One of the deadly characteristics of co-parenting, not talked about nearly enough, is this combativeness on account of the unspoken competition between divorced parents. An ongoing struggle for the affections of their children. It can manifest itself in countless ways from gift giving to vacations, where each parent lives or even the type of house; and all for the purpose of one-upping the other parent, to believe one parent is