Previously Known As Chopperpapa.com

Anthropologists calculate the institution of marriage, or something you and I would recognize as such, to date back almost 5000 years. The earliest known marriage certificate, in this case a marriage contract, involving one woman and one man occurred in 2350 BC in Mesopotamia, or modern day Iraq. Over the ensuring centuries marriage evolved, influenced by culture and religion - especially Christianity -  to eventually become what you and I know it as today. Marriage was officially added as one of the seven sacraments of the Catholic Church in the 12th century forever placing it among the most sacred of undertakings. There’s no denying that matrimony between a man and woman is a cornerstone human civilization.  Yet with five millennia of historic precedent to support the idea of life long marriage between two people why is the noise about its necessity and future louder now than ever before? Is there any remaining rationale for marriage or are we just kidding ourselves? Has mar...

If there is one relationship flaw virtually ever man gets tagged with it’s how he doesn’t talk. And by talk I don’t mean a discussion of golf handicaps, the stock market, or Sports Illustrated swimsuit models. I’m referring to revelations of his inner workings, what’s going on within that masculine mind of his, what he’s really thinking.  I’m not quite sure if every human male is inflicted with this malady or just the stars of sitcoms and feature length relationship dramas but evidence abounds that men keep their emotional cards close to the chest.  And in almost two decades, which involved several committed relationships including marriage, I must admit I’m as guilty of this unseemly personality trait as the next Joe.  But in that time I’ve come to understand, through my own experiences and talking with and listening to other men, what I believe are the handful of reasons why so many of us men almost seem allergic to opening up with the women in our lives.  I don’t ...

The phenomenon of Fifty Shakes of Grey baffles me. Critics claim the writing is insipid likened more to the musings of a teenage schoolgirl than an author whose pen has garnered international fame. Yet the books’ success is undeniable and has sent publishers of a genre historically reserved for middle-aged single women with too many cats scrambling to repackage former ‘romance’ classics, and hopeful EL James’s furiously pounding the keyboard - no pun intended.    Why I give an iota about the novels I can’t say for sure, maybe it’s their meteoric success or why a storyline that seems to epitomize what women throughout history have fought hard to overcome. What I can state emphatically is that I haven’t read the books - entirely. How the first two installments landed in my possession at all is definitive proof a higher power, and while most men would have left them on the dining room table I was intent on deciphering what makes them irresistible to so many. Desiring to learn wha...

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. ...

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 wei...

T he day my divorce became final was anything but cause for celebration, except that I could finally let my attorney go milk someone else for phone calls and ‘office supplies.' There was relief that I could now get on with my life and not have parts of it used against me in a court of law. I was obviously thankful the thing was behind me; once I had reached the tipping point in trying to keep our marriage together, once I had accepted that she was moving on with her life and with someone new, I set loose a hurricane of energy preparing for my own future. It was sixty days of sheer chaos that left me exhausted and frazzled.  But mostly I was sad, that day became a funeral of sorts. Something had died and was now laid to rest. Dreams and hopes given birth years before had been lowered into the grave. That day was and will remain, a testimony to two people’s failure, of promises never to be kept.      There were many emotions that afternoon, but none worthy of pictures....

  My father never offered his advice about girls, though I understand he was moderately popular with them; and after thirty years of marriage you think he’d have something valuable to say. He never spoke about the secret of his marital success or how to make relationships work. He never shared how a woman’s character and integrity are more important than her personality or the color of her hair. He never counseled me to look through her eyes to what hides behind them, and he didn’t caution that in this world there are ordinary girls and girls of a different kind - or how to tell the difference.  His neglect would plague me for more than twenty years.  My impression of women and relationships, for most of my adult life, can be summarized like this; if she was marginally alcoholic, somewhat trampy, overly desperate, and was just attractive enough to bolster my ego I believe she had sufficient criteria for a girlfriend, and if she stayed faithful maybe even a wife. But I wou...