Previously Known As Chopperpapa.com

My Aunt Lucille was the most sophisticated woman in our family. She was my grandmother’s youngest sister and her entire life seemed one big cosmopolitan adventure. The many years she spent in Atlanta coupled while remaining unencumbered by children only added to an already formidable metropolitan mystique. Her husband Uncle Kenny was known best for his Caribbean complexion, not because of his lineage but due to the countless hours spent each summer sunbathing in his back yard swaddled by the sounds of The Carpenters and Bee Gees emanating from his Sunbeam AM/FM radio. A visit to their home always felt like a vacation. Green PVC corrugated panels covered the roof of their suburban back patio from which the emerald hue gave off a tropical flavor that to a ten-year-old must surely have been what Miami or Bermuda was like.   Several years after my uncle’s death, of skin cancer coincidentally, Aunt Cile began spending time with another man. Rumor had it that she would have married Warren at

In this, the most debilitating economic crisis since the Great Depression, there is one occupation that remains as robust and profitable as ever – the Hero.  At no time since Pagan Rome and Julius Caesar is there more profound worship of the mere human. There is no place we can turn, no sport, industry, or amusement where one if not several within their ranks has not been escalated to the status of the holy divine.  They have been turned into modern day prophets and we are their congregation listening as they minister from the sacred scripture of their accomplishments. Yet the price paid to receive such reverence and adulation is cheap by historical standards, it costs no tears or blood and can be bargained for with little more than beating analyst’s estimates, winning a Super Bowl, or starring in a video. **  It’s been said, and I have to believe, that you can tell everything you need to know about someone in how the answer this question,  “What sort of people do you admire most?”   I

If you’re a single or divorced dad I feel your pain. I’ve been one for seven years and have experienced every emotion you are or will go through. I know what it’s like to have a piece of your soul ripped away every Sunday evening, I’ve had the desire to take out a professional hit on my ex-wife, and I understand feeling like you are getting the raw end of the deal.   Being a single father means we may never have a traditional relationship with our children, we may not always be there to tuck them in or be able to band-aide every scrape but that doesn’t mean we can’t be any less than an extraordinary influence in their lives. Regardless of what media or culture says fathers are important and your kids need you whether you’re with their mother or not.  When I got divorced I didn’t get a manual or have a go-to person for help; my family was hours away, which meant I was on my own. As such, I’ve made almost every conceivable mistake a dad can from introducing the girlfriend early to horren