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Category Archives: manhood

thoughts on manhood

Henry Sylvester Bobo is my late paternal grandfather.  To say, I adored and respected this man would be a gross understatement. I miss this man. When I think of him, and that’s often, I smile. He taught me much (and he still teaches me posthumously).  I observed him up close and personal and from a far (we stayed in Kansas City, MO; he and my grandmother lived in Kansas City, KS). I am people watcher. I am an observer (credit my engineering training and laboratory days). Watching and observing grandpa was a joy to me and a preoccupation of mine. What did I observe and/or learn from this honorable and illustrious man?

First, he taught me that it’s okay to have an imagination. My granddad was wildly creative.  His imagination manifested itself in the beautiful works he did with bricks, concrete and stone. He built fireplaces, patios, and walls.  He was an entrepreneur: a self-employed brickmason! And he was good. His imagination was evident with his “home made shoes.” Long story, but those shoes, they were a sight to behold!

Second, he was a tender, affectionate and gentle man. He was the first African-American man to say to me, “I love you.” The first man. Although I struggle to say those three words, I still remember my dear grandpa saying those words to me; I was a teenager I believe.

Third, he showed me husbandry.  He was not a perfect man (I am certain his kids would attest to that); however, from what I observed, he was a good husband to the late Willa Mae, his dear love and the former high kicking majorette at Sumner High School.  Theirs was the true Camelot marriage in my mind. I vividly remember my grandpa, the doting husband, would respond to Willa Mae’s inquiries by saying “yes, baby.” When she became a vulnerable and ‘weak lamb’ – when she grew ill and struggled with dementia – she would ask the same question repeatedly and yet, he would respond patiently, “yes, baby.”  When she was hospitalized, he stayed in the hospital room with her by sleeping on an uncomfortable couch. He loved his wife, Willa Mae.  When Willa Mae died, they had been married 67 years – yes, count them, 67 years!

Fourth, he was a man of few words. In a world where so many are talking and making unintelligible ‘blah, blah, blah’ noise, for him to be a man of few words was/is refreshing to me.

Fifth, he was not a TV watcher (or I don’t remember him being a TV watcher); he loved to ‘pittle’ in the yard.  I am not sure what he was always doing in the backyard, but he would be doing something; he would be pittling. Maybe that’s where I get my restlessness and my tendency to pittle.  Let’s just say that he was industrious and that his work ethnic was quite remarkable.

Sixth, he and my late grandmother, loved ‘fancy’ cars (at least they were fancy to me).  They loved the Ford Thunderbird, for example.  Once upon a time they had a convertible Thunderbird. Today, I have a convertible Ford Mustang. Yes, they influenced me with their flare for fashion and their taste, their eclecticism, their class and dignity and their adventure for cars.

Seventh, he served in WWII aboard a Navy Ship and while he did not talk about it, I am certain he suffered many indignities from his fellow white ship men.  He suffered indignities state side too as he lived during the overtly racist and insidious Jim Crow days. Yet, when I saw him, his head was proudly and confidently held up…he did not walk around like someone beat down.

Eighth, he was a brilliant man.  He invented several contractions (I regret not helping him getting some of these things patented).  He was truly a scholar-athlete in high school – lettering in football and basketball. Unbeknownst to me was his nickname in high school – ‘Betty Boop’; ironically, my daughter Briana, her nickname was ‘Betty Boop’.

Ninth, even as he got older, he was still fit…maybe because he pittled, maybe because of his work ethic.  He had a ‘six pack’ for all the years I known him.

Tenth, he was a Christian man. He taught Sunday School and sometimes he would walk to church (maybe another reason why he was fit); while we, my brother and grandmother and me, were typically and fashionably tardy. And as we came into Stranger’s Rest Baptist Church through the side door and took our normal spot, grandpa would smile and shake his head not in a condemning way but admirably toward his Willa Mae. You can tell he admired his beautiful and always fashionably stylish wife.

What a fine specimen of a man was Henry Sylvester Bobo!

I like KU Men’s Basketball.  That makes sense as I am a proud alumnus; I graduated from KU in December 1982 with a Bachelor of Science in Electrical Engineering.  Something happened earlier this week involving Brannen Greene in a game between KU and their in state revival, K-State (Kansas State University). Greene dunks the basketball with 2 seconds left in the game. Clearly, this was unsportsman-like and un-classy as the score was already 75 to 59 (Greene’s dunk made the final score 77 to 59 in KU’s favor).  That was a knuckleheaded mistake by a guy who has committed other ill-advised decisions while at KU.  Earlier in the season, Greene was suspended for several games for some offense (I don’t know the details).  Coach Bill Self apologized to the K-State faithful during the post-game interview on behalf of Greene.  Now, that’s a classy move on behalf of Self who has led the Jayhawks to eleven straight Big 12 regular season championships, 2 NCAA Final Four appearances, and the 2008 NCAA championship during his 13 seasons as head coach.

I do not know Bill Self personally – however, I have heard Bill Self speak on several occasions and I have taken a picture with Self. (See picture here: http://tinyurl.com/z4zsujx.). Self seems like a really nice dude. Yet, what was not nice or classy was Self’s comments about Greene during the post-game interview. According to this link, http://deadspin.com/bill-self-calls-out-his-player-for-dick-move-a-dunk-1757049897, Self calls out Greene for making a “dick move” (referring to Greene’s ill-advised, unsportsman-like dunk with 2 seconds remaining in the game). A “dick move” – are you kidding me?!

Sure, Greene is still maturing; however, rules are rules.  And rules are a good thing; otherwise there would be chaos and pandemonium. Self is right to correct Greene as correction facilitates the maturation process.  However, for Self to refer to Greene’s indiscretion as a “dick move” on national TV is immature and unclassy.  We all say things that we regret – because to do so is human. However, should Self offer another apology for his inappropriate comments? Or do people like Self get a pass because of his impressive resume as the KU Basketball Coach? Or maybe because of our moral relativistic culture, maybe what Self said was not objectionable to many? Perhaps, I am the only one with the hang up?

Many African-American churches in the urban core are filled; filled with more women than men. I am not surprised at this because many moms are single parents and men have abandoned and abdicated their roles.  And many sermonic messages are ‘slanted’ and appeal to women; thus, men conclude, “he (the preacher) is not speaking to me, so why attend?” Is this ‘feminization of churches’ true of other non-African-American churches or contexts? At many colleges, the female students outnumber the male students on average 2 to 1 (this was certainly the case at Lindenwood University, St. Charles, MO where I formerly taught). I know quite a few men are incarcerated; many men enlist into the armed services.  Yet, there seems to be a shortage of men.  Am I the only one to observe this? Is there a shortage of men? Are women having more female babies versus male babies? Have men sequestered themselves away to hide behind computer screens?  Could it be that men are so mesmerized with pornography that they have opted out of society? Or maybe being enthralled with video games is the culprit for what appears to be ‘a virtual no show of men folk’ in our society? Perhaps, they are socially awkward and have removed themselves from society, making occasional cameo appearances, so says psychologist Philip Zimbardo (listen to http://www.ted.com/talks/zimchallenge?language=en).  Again, I ask, where are the men?

Real men cry!  I often hear men who cry spontaneously or ‘out of the blue’ say things like this, “Sorry, that’s my feminine side.” Or, “Sorry, I got a little emotional.” Both these statements are apologetic in nature.  I ask, ‘why are men apologizing for something that is quite human’? We have often heard this phrase, “to err is human.” Or, to make an error, is what it means to be human. Similarly, we can write, “to cry is human.” Or, to cry is what it means to be human. Yet, too often men take their cues of masculinity or manhood from their stoic dads or from super-macho men who grace the ‘big screen’ in Hollywood.  Some cues from Hollywood or other ‘media outlets’ (such as magazines, athletics, etc.) are good but this notion that it is wrong to cry as a man is dead wrong.  Men, like women, were made with tear ducts.  And tears are meant to flow in these ducts! Yet sadly, men are discouraged from crying as though crying is a foreign idea.  As a consequence, men fail to use their allotment of tears.  Consider this from Pat Conroy of Beach Music, “American men are allotted just as many tears as American women. But because we are forbidden to shed them, we die long before women do, with our hearts exploding or our blood pressure rising or our livers eaten away by alcohol because that lake of grief inside us has no outlet. We, men, die because our faces were not watered enough.” Men, it is okay to have ‘watered faces.’  I have been privileged to officiate the weddings of two former students and on both occasions the groom cried real tears when he saw his bride for the first time adorned in her beautiful wedding dress. My kids and wife will gladly and proudly say this about me: “Dad cries at church, dad cries during movies that feature tender father/son moments and he does not apologize for crying.”  Luke Brad Bobo’s face has been watered many, many times.  I will the end the same way I began: Real men cry!