Fatherless: ...The Movement Is On

Contents

PREFACE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

PREFACE

My passion is toward fathers and their relationships with their children. It is also vitally important to me that fathers reestablish their position of authority and leadership in the home and in society. Fatherhood is a position that is ordained by God!

The family structure has drastically deteriorated in our society. Society as a whole has gotten comfortable with emasculating men—especially black men. What we need is a reality check. The family unit is out of order. God’s order for the family is this: God, Christ, man, woman, and children. Fathers play a role more significant than just paying bills. God designed fathers to be the provider, priest, and prophet in the home and the protector of the family.

As an African American man, it is my deepest heartfelt desire to see the black family unit restored to its natural prominence. Many men have been silenced and discouraged from fighting for their parental rights with in the court system. Our legal system is set up for mothers to have their way, while the rights of fathers are pushed aside. The Fatherless Project is a movement that is designed to encourage fathers who have become discouraged from fighting with an abusive system that refuses to respect them for who they are: fathers.

The Fatherless Project is a faith-based endeavor that consists of a mentoring program for the fatherless. It provides counseling for children in estranged relationships with their fathers. It establishes a comfortable atmosphere for fathers to openly discuss their pain and frustration over not being able to see their children in an open forum without their masculinity being challenged. It offers counseling for broken marriages and broken relationships. My primary focus is to see fathers built up, relationships restored, families healed, and God getting the glory.

It was brought to my attention that 70 percent of African American children do not have their fathers presently living in the same household or participating in their lives. This is an alarming statistic. I wonder just how much of that percentage was imposed by the system and/or the mothers of these children.

There are thousands of broken relationships out there. This book is about my story. What are you going to do about yours? It is 2011—let’s not talk about it; let’s be about it.

Children’s children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers (Proverbs: 17:6).

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are so many wonderful people who have played a part in making this book become a reality—so many names, in fact, that I dare not list them all for fear I might leave someone out. So I will begin by thanking God for giving me the strength and the passion to forge through the most agonizing season of my life and still be able to finish writing this book. I am extremely blessed to have so many loving family members, friends, and coworkers who have encouraged and inspired me along the way. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, your laughter, your prayers, and your words of encouragement.

There are, however, a few names that demand mention.

My editor, Mrs. Johnel Cooper, has worked feverishly for the past year and a half to complete this project. Along with her daily duties of being a wife, she made time to visit her 105-year-old grandmother in a nursing home. She also managed to pick up her granddaughter (my daughter Johnel) from the bus stop, check her homework, take her to dance classes and soccer practice, and still find time to work on my book. Periodically the contents of the story became overwhelming, but she stayed the course and completed the job.

Mrs. Cooper, affectionately known as Mama, I am eternally grateful for your commitment to this book. I love you, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for dedicating your time, energy, and resources to doing your very best. Although I pressed you to complete this book, you took your time and committed to excellence. For this I am eternally grateful. I pray that this book becomes a best seller so that I can bless your socks off. Once again, I say thank you.

To my mother, Alice F. Mitchell: In order for me to thoroughly express my true feelings of how much I love you and what you mean to me, I would need an additional book. You have been my rock, my comforter, confidant, and friend. You are the one person I can always rely on. You have taught me to be loving, kind, compassionate, and respectful. You have also taught me to be a fighter. And in that fight, losing is not an option.

Thank you for coaching me through the toughest fight of my life. Words cannot express how much your support meant to me during the three-year trial. You never missed one court appearance. There were days when I didn’t want you to come because of the toll it was taking on you physically, but you hung in there, and we fought together. I pray that God will give you strength, good health, and longevity so we can see what God has planned for this book and how it is going to impact the lives of the readers.

To my father, Ralph E. Brown: It is every child’s wish to grow up with both father and mother under the same roof. Although that was not my experience, I was blessed to have benefited from having two homes. I had an opportunity to share my life with both of my parents.

I want to thank both of you for not being selfish and for agreeing to share me instead of fighting over me. I want to publicly thank you for not walking away. You committed yourself to serving me as my father, provider, friend, and pastor. Thank you for teaching me how to become a man. You didn’t just talk it; you walked it. You are the most disciplined man I know. You taught me how to be not only a man but also a gentleman. You taught me how to trust in God. You taught me the importance of having order in my life, because order produces peace.

Although things didn’t work out between you and Mom, I thank you for showing my brothers and me how a husband is supposed to treat his wife and how to dwell with her for a lifetime. Your commitment to one woman for forty years is truly worthy of recognition. Thank you for praying for me, for skillfully navigating me through God’s Word, and for finding the right Scriptures for me to meditate on in order to get through some very tough times. I love you.

To my stepmother Odessa: Thank you for showing me how much you love my father. Thank you for your friendship, your love, and your kindness. I appreciated living in a spotless home that was filled with love, peace, and good food. Thank you for always having a kind word of encouragement. Being a step-parent is not easy. I want to thank you for standing in the gap. I will never forget who was my loudest cheerleader in the gym at my basketball games. Those embarrassing moments still make me smile. Thank you. I love you.

To my dear Nana, the most thoughtful grandmother on the planet: Nana, I love you with all my heart. I miss our tea-and-snack time at midnight—the way we would sit and talk when I should have been in bed because I had to go to school in the morning. I appreciate your wisdom and encouragement. You never allowed your age to stop you from doing anything. At ninety-plus years old, you’re still going strong. May God continue to bless you with longevity.

To my pastor, Dr. Keith Pettus: You have been one of my most influential spiritual mentors, a father in the gospel, and a true friend. I am thankful for your keen wisdom. Tenacious optimism combined with humor is what got me through an agonizing and tumultuous time. I am uncertain if even you know how much you have impacted my life. You continuously provoked me to think, to pray, and to spend more time in God’s word.

To Steven DePass: You have been a cousin, big brother, and best friend all wrapped in one. You are always concerned about me. The history that we share is second to none. We have laughs that will last us a lifetime. Thank you for making me laugh when I was too angry to smile. Thank you for being such an important part of my life. You did a fantastic job on my website. I love you.

To Ketwan Pettus, son of Dr. Keith Pettus, and my dear friend: I thank you from the bottom of my heart for designing my cover and giving it the look that I so desired. I love it. I must let it be known that not only did you share in my vision, but you also volunteered your service and expertise without a fee to make sure that my vision came to pass. Again I say thank you. I love you.

To my photographer and coworker Lenny Yearwood: Lenny, it was eighteen years ago that you and I graduated from the academy together. And today you are responsible for photographs that were used to create this cover. I told you exactly what I wanted, and you made it happen. You are officially my photographer. I love you.

These last three gentlemen mentioned are gifted in their crafts. It is my prayer that this book will be a springboard in launching their careers beyond their imaginations. Again I say thank you. May God continue to bless you.

Chapter One

The Wedding

Lisa and I were married on February 22, 1992, at a beautiful catering hall in Lindenhurst, Long Island. The hall was filled with 150 of our relatives and close friends. The most important part of the day was that Michelle, our daughter, was in the wedding. Lisa and her mom thought Michelle was too young to be in the wedding. At the time, she was one and a half years old.

I made it perfectly clear that if Michelle was not in the wedding, I would not be in it either. After all, I was only getting married for my daughter’s sake.

Needless to say, Michelle was our flower girl, and what a beautiful flower girl she was, in a white princess gown trimmed with a rose-scalloped hem. Alex Johnson Jr. escorted Michelle. He is the son of a very good friend of mine, Alex Johnson Sr. Alex Jr. was a very handsome two-year-old ring bearer and a little gentleman. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, white shirt, and bow tie.

The only flaw in the wedding was that Michelle’s hair was not fixed for the occasion. She wore her hair in an Afro puff with a powder-blue scrunchie tied around it to hold it in place. We had expected Lisa’s cousin to comb Michelle’s hair into a fancy style appropriate for a flower girl, but that had not happened.

The catering hall was electrifying. Everyone was in position, waiting with anticipation and watching for the bride to come.

My cousin Troy was my best man. While he and I were standing at the altar, I started thinking about the huge decision I was about to make. In my mind, the room became silent; everyone was moving in slow motion. I could hear my heart beating, and my throat became extremely dry. Several thoughts were running through my mind.

What on earth are you doing? Why are you doing this? You don’t want to marry her! She can’t be trusted! And you are not in love with her! My wife is supposed to be my soul mate and my completion.

Then came the opposing thoughts.

Yeah, but you’re doing this for Michelle, not for you!

The voice of reason spoke. Well, shouldn’t you be happy too?

The parental voice responded. It’s not about you. It’s about your child now!

I was torn in my decision. Both of the voices made perfect sense to me. I was standing in front of all these people—my mother, my father, my stepmother, my youngest brother Titus, and my Nana—who had come up from Florida to attend the wedding. My younger brother Keith was one of the groomsmen. My heart and mind were begging me to leave immediately, that very moment. But what would I say to all of these people? In my head, I practiced a little speech:

I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I must apologize, but there will not be a wedding today.

I knew this would be very disappointing to many people. Again, the voice came.

They are not the ones who are marrying Lisa. You are!

I had wrestled with these thoughts for months prior to making this decision, and apparently I still had not decided. I had not gotten fitted for the tuxedo until two days before the wedding.

Suddenly Troy interrupted my thoughts.

Dean, are you all right? You don’t look too good, cuz! Are you sure you want to do this?

It was as though he was reading my mind. Troy was totally opposed to my decision, but he had said he would stand with me. That he did. He asked again, Are you sure you want to do this? Listen, man, I have a bottle of Jack Daniels in my trunk. You and I could go to the beach, get drunk, and forget about all of this. You down?

I thought to myself, Is it that obvious? Wow. Can anyone else tell what I’m thinking by looking at me? It must be written all over my face.

I looked at Troy and said, Yeah, man. Go get the car.

Troy smiled and answered, That’s a bet.

Just as Troy turned to walk away, we heard the congregation simultaneously sigh, Ahhh… Troy and I turned around and saw my baby girl at the back of the room waiting to walk down the aisle. I quickly grabbed Troy by the arm and said, Wait, I can’t leave yet.

We watched Michelle and Alex Jr. slowly walk down the aisle, dropping rose petals. She was so beautiful, and they looked adorable together. Tears began to stream down my face. I thought, This is why I’m here. This is why I invited my family and friends.

As Michelle approached me, I bent down, picked her up, and gave her a big hug and some kisses. I looked into her little brown eyes and said, Baby, you look so beautiful. I am so proud of you. This isn’t for me, but Daddy’s going to do it just for you.

I hugged and kissed her again and put her down. Shortly after that, Lisa came down the aisle. She looked beautiful as well. As we stood side-by-side, I could not separate my true feelings. It was as though I was performing for a live audience. I really wished that I could rid myself of the negative feelings I had about Lisa and just be happy. But I couldn’t! Not only did I not trust her, but I also despised her for plotting her pregnancy. She was such a liar!

Somehow I was able to get through the day with a smile on my face. My concern was for what was going to happen tomorrow.

It was a classy and well-organized wedding. Alex Sr. was my DJ, and I had hired two of my good friends, jazz artists, Darren Mills and Larry Christian to play the saxophone and the piano. They blew the audience away; people had tears in their eyes as they listened and enjoyed the music. Their performance put the finishing touches on the wedding. The food was great, and everybody partied like there was no tomorrow.

When the time came for Lisa to dance with her father, I danced with my mother, who cried through the entire song. She respected my decision to be there for Michelle. However, she was sad because she knew that I was unhappy. And we all know that every mother wants her children to be happily married.

It was five o’clock and the reception was coming to an end. We walked around to each table, greeting all of our guests and collecting envelopes. We thanked each and every one for coming and showing their love and support. At the end of the wedding, all of the guests expressed their happiness for us. Several relatives expressed to us that this was the best wedding they had ever attended. I was thinking, I wish I could say the same. It’s too bad I married the wrong person for what I thought was the right reason.

In hindsight, when I think about the decision I made to marry Lisa, I realize that it was unfair to her as well. She needed to be with someone who was in love with her, someone who genuinely wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and not just because they shared a child.

My thoughts made amends. Well, we’re married now. I’ll try to make it work, although my heart is not in it.

We went on a cruise to the Bahamas for one week. It was my first cruise, and we took Disney’s Big Red Boat. I was excited about the trip, and I really tried to have a good time. However, there is nothing worse than feeling trapped on your honeymoon. I was on a beautiful island in the Caribbean with someone I did not want to be with. We even argued part of the time.

The cruise itself was awesome, and the food was fantastic. After the cruise, it was time to go home and do life. I was happy to go home and see Michelle. I had missed her immensely.

The boat docked in Cape Canaveral, and we drove to Lisa’s parents’ house in Winter Springs, Florida. At that time, Lisa and Michelle were living with Lisa’s parents in Florida. I stayed for a few extra days to spend time with Michelle. Lisa and Michelle would be returning to New York to live in two weeks.

By the time they returned to New York, Lisa had spent most of the money that we had received as wedding gifts. I was livid. How could she squander $3,200 in two weeks, knowing that we needed something to put away in case of an emergency? The money had been earmarked to go into a joint savings account when she came home.

Before they returned to New York I had purchased a 1987 Buick Riviera at an auction in the Bronx. The engine had died on Lisa’s previous car, so I’d bought the Buick in order for her to get around with Michelle.

Lisa, Michelle, and I lived in North Babylon in Long Island, New York, with her brother and his wife. It was the house she had grown up in—a high-ranch style. My brother-in-law and his wife lived upstairs, and we lived downstairs. Their parents had left them the house when they retired and moved to Florida.

It was wonderful to see Michelle every day in the morning and at night. I worked the evening shift, 3:00 to 11:00 p.m., at the Brooklyn Correctional Facility (BCF) in downtown Brooklyn.

It took me approximately an hour to an hour and a half to reach home. By the time I arrived, everyone should have been asleep. I would pull into the driveway, and my headlights would shine into Michelle’s window. I imagine the combination of my headlights and the sound of the engine woke her up from a deep sleep.

I would try to enter the house as quietly as possible. However, as soon as I locked the door and put my bag down, Michelle would run down the hallway and leap into my arms. She would say that magical word that every father loves to hear.

Daddy!

I would swing her around in my arms and kiss her all over her little face. No matter how bad my day might have been at work, once I reached home and heard my baby say that special word, it made everything all right. Daddy! That has to be the greatest feeling in the world.

I would tell her to go to bed while I took a shower. She would say, Nope, I’m gonna wait right here. Then she would take the remote control, turn on the television, and watch it until I came out of the bathroom.

The first two months of this life were tolerable. After an argument in the month of April, I moved out for a few days. My mother convinced me to go back and at least give the marriage a try. Although I went back, my spirit was not at peace. I knew it wouldn’t work.

By June I was beginning to get very frustrated. Lisa was a compulsive liar, and all we did was argue. She did not want to work, and she spent all the money that we were supposed to save.

After her cousin helped her to get a job at Kennedy Airport, Lisa finally went to work, earning six dollars an hour. The last job she’d had in New York was as an assistant manager for a spring water company.

I asked her, Why would you take a job making six dollars an hour when we just got married and have a child to raise?

Her answer to me was, Well, I figured I could give back to my parents now by letting them fly for free.

My instant reply to her was, Are you out of your mind? Your parents are retired, and they live in Florida. We are just starting a family, and you want us to buy a house. What kind of house do you expect us to buy with you making six dollars an hour? You’re qualified to do much better than that.

Even with my constant intervention, it had taken her a long time to get motivated enough to go back to work. Then she’d settled for a mediocre job!

It was as if the plans we had made for our future were not important to her. There was only so much of this foolishness that I could take. As much as I wanted to be there for Michelle, I just could not do this any longer. I felt trapped.

I slowly started slipping into depression. If I stayed, I’d be miserable. If I left, I’d be miserable too, because I would miss my daughter. But I had to find peace.

The same year we were married, one of my coworkers died