About three years ago, I put the finishing touches on my first novel entitled, Siblings to very little fan fair and even smaller sales.  However, the pride and accomplishment of putting my words to pages is still extremely fulfilling.  The result of that experience enticed me to start a blog and the TMass Chronicles was born.  I saw this blog as a method to hone and practice my craft while continuing to share with the world my thoughts and ideas.  It has been a learning process and very humbling.

That voice I’ve blogged about in the past has now convinced me that I can take up a notch and actually put together a podcast that can be interesting and entertaining.  After months of research and preparation, The TMass Chronicles Podcast went into production a few days ago.  As I put the finishing touches on the inaugural show, I couldn’t help but think of all of those people out there who are willing to freely chase their dreams.  I think of all the teachers, doctors, servicemen and women, lawyers, poets, actors, and others who have never allowed anything to divert them from their path.  Thank you for your inspiration!

I’m anticipating a launch of the show in a day or so and I’m excited to once again throw my words into the universe and see what returns.  If you enjoy my blog, I think you will really enjoy the podcast.

The TMass Chronicles Podcast is cutting edge, professionally produced, and will include a segment I call Peep This, Then Tweet This.  I’ll throw a topic on Twitter and the TMass Chronicles Facebook Fan Page and as a follower or fan you can give me  your opinion.  I’ll read your tweets or comments on the show and put you in the running to win a prize for participating.  I think it’s going to be fun to see how the world agrees or adamantly disagrees with my opinion.

One question I’ve asked myself over and over again is, “Why do this?”  The only answer I could come up with is, “Why not?”

I’m constantly coming up with ideas for the show and I want to use this medium as a way to promote the talented people in my life and make it easier for their voice to be heard through a segment I call, Unauthorized Plug.

I hope you enjoy my next venture into unchartered territory and I look forward to hearing your feedback.  Thanks for following the TMass Chronicles and thanks for helping me fulfill my passions.

God Bless.

TMass

Visit the new home of The TMass Chronicles

With anyone who has the slightest interest in politics, there comes a time when it becomes necessary to lean to the left or to the right.  To proclaim that you are “middle of the road” is nothing more than a declaration of cowardice.  Of course, there are those who are bold enough too not only lean away from the center of political neutrality, they have come to rest at a perfect ninety degree polarizing angle.  It is an extremely dangerous undertaking to become so fascinated with your own argument that is impossible to see someone else’s side.

When I first heard of the Tea Party movement I wasn’t impressed, actually I remember laughing at the thought of people taking to the streets and equating themselves to the impetus colonials who boldly stood against taxation without representation.  These people vote in elections and are unhappy with either the outcome or have lost faith in their candidate.  The colonials didn’t have that luxury.

It was obvious to me that this was nothing more than extremists with an agenda.  I believe most of them lacked the radical idea to start such a movement, but they were fed up enough to participate.  That’s how most “movements” begin.  Someone with just enough charisma and persuasiveness convinces a group of impassioned people to act and go way beyond their own comfort zone.  Whether motivated by politics, dissatisfaction with the current political climate, or even a concept as devious as race, these people have grown from a few boisterous protestors to full on culture of dissent.

This started the wheels spinning and made me think of how dangerous this Tea Party thing has the potential to become.  The irony is that most of the people who participate in Tea Party methodology are fed up and disgusted with many of the politicians that they put into office.  This seems so ridiculous to me because in this country we actually will campaign and vote for someone who we later restrain from doing the job we put them in office to do.  We elevate our candidates to a ridiculous pedestal and then scoff at their mere human qualities.  We are incredulous to the idea that men and women who run for office could be motivated by anything other than the desire to serve our every whim.  One of the many flaws in this mindset is that I doubt you could round a group of Republicans or Democrats and convince them to agree on any one concept.  So how could we possibly not understand that politics and representation is a give and take venture?

The Tea Party scares me because these people have taken to the streets and are speaking in one voice and have chosen some of the most extreme provocateurs to speak for them.  In my humble opinion, this is the equivalent of reacting to someone who has screamed, “Fire” in a theater on the opening day of a Twilight film.  You may not have heard the scream but enough people are running you become convinced that running is the right thing to do.

Don’t misunderstand, I find it fascinating that Americans have taken it upon themselves to incite their own call to action, however I must ask – to what end?  What are the Tea Party activists trying to accomplish? I’ve searched their websites and Facebook pages only to find their motivation but nothing about their desired result.  So let’s say that they get President Obama (their central target of disapproval) and other politicians they deem unworthy out of office.  Let’s say that they are able to implement strict and unyielding immigration laws.  Let’s even say that they are able to put an end to the gay marriage debate once and for all.  Finally, let’s pretend that they are able to put like-minded politicians in key positions in the Senate, Congress, and even the White House – then what?

This uneducated and ignorant political dabbler will speculate that they will turn on those decisions with the swiftness and viciousness reserved for an animal attack on the African plain.   What I’ve learned in the over three decades I’ve lived on this planet is that our society loves to build empires and then gleefully watched them as they are destroyed.  We turn the “little guy” into the multi-billion dollar conglomerate and then rally to burn it down because it’s too big.

I believe the Tea Party is going through this shift of the tides as we speak.  The funny thing is that BP Oil (another entity that has fallen victim to our disdain for other’s success) has trumped the Tea Party publicity while playing right into the hands of the party’s agenda.

So now that I’ve publicly scoffed the Tea Party movement what is my solution?  I believe that voting is more than a privilege or right – it is a responsibility that should be responsibly carried out.  We have a tendency to vote with our emotions or our impression of a shiny, expensive television commercial.  We vote because of race identification or nullification and we vote based on the label we’ve given ourselves.  If the American people would take the time to research political candidates independently without influence of an extremist who makes his money on shock value, there would be no need for the Tea Party movement.  We also have to understand that for better or worse, we are a nation that is safely and cowardly just a bit left and right of center.  To believe anything else would be just ridiculous… and scary.

Recently, I was forced to perform as the subsection, “Disciplinarian” under the broader role and responsibility of “Father.” This is a hat that although fits me quite snug, I absolutely hate wearing. It breaks my heart to discipline my kids and to be the one to teach them the life lesson of consequences. The irony is that I’m about to use the World Wide Web to discuss the nature of my son’s offense when, as a child, I loathed the fact that after not sparing the rod my mother would get on the phone and tell her girlfriend’s about it. I understand now that she wasn’t bragging about her physical prowess over me, instead she was looking for confirmation that she did the right thing because her heart was breaking.

Currently, I’m writing from a hotel room in the Midwest and my son is nestled in Southern California, living, playing, and apparently practicing skills I hope he never uses again. I received a phone call a couple of days ago that was obviously prompted by his mother. I could hear her voice in the background encouraging my son to “Tell your father” what he did. The next voice I heard was that of my oldest, Jordan trembling as he informed me that he forged his mother’s signature on a homework log that was supposed to be signed by a parent and turned in earlier that morning. I was furious! “Off with his head” was my first reaction. This is one of those situations that, as a parent, you punish out of fear more than anger; both are equally dangerous.

Hypocrite, thy name is Anthony.

So I began to verbally chastise my twelve year old on the immoral, illegal, and downright disgusting behavior he engaged in. As I spoke, I could hear his breathing quicken and I could only imagine that he was terrified of the pending consequences. I even hit him with the coveted, “I’m so disappointed in you.” What I did not tell my son was that when I was around his age I too dabbled in the art of deceit known as forgery. I remember getting a poor grade on an assignment and rather than give it to my mother for signature I practiced her difficult autograph in my room late into the night. So late, in fact, that I fell asleep with pages of evidence scattered all around me. When my mother came into my room to suggest I get in bed she reacted out of the same fear.

His mother got on the phone and we both were extremely upset. I have to say that I am very lucky because my ex-wife and I are still very much partners when it comes to raising our son. We see eye to eye on most things and respect each other enough to confront the other when we don’t. I had already handed down the punishment before she took the phone. We have been planning a camping trip for the past couple of months and I decreed that Jordan would not be able to go. The camping trip being his idea, he was devastated. His mother agreed with me that not allowing him to attend the camping trip was just. I was still reeling at the fact that he would do something so devious and asked her exactly how it all happened.

Here’s where things get sticky.

Periodically, Jordan receives a “homework log” from his math teacher that shows all of his recent assignments and the grades he received, including incompletes. The idea, of course, is to keep parents informed of their child’s progress throughout the semester. Jordan had some missing assignments, which his mother and I knew about and turning in the log was an assignment as well. Before he brought home the log to be signed, we warned him that we were not going to tolerate another missing assignment. Now I must explain that my son is the king, well let’s be honest, the prince of procrastination. The king is typing these words on to this page. He failed to get his mother’s signature and when faced with turning the log in that morning he made a decision that showed a complete and total lack of judgment. He knew that if he didn’t turn in the log he would receive another missing assignment and be punished. Because he waited so long to get a signature he signed it himself, copying his mother’s signature from another paper she had previously signed. He turned the paper in and his teacher wasn’t aware that he was handing in a forgery.

That same evening, Jordan and his mother were sitting at her kitchen table doing homework. After making her promise that she wouldn’t get mad, Jordan confessed his sin. He confessed without prompt or even the threat of getting caught. As a matter of fact, we later would learn that the teacher would not have even suspected him of a crime. Part of his punishment would be to go to school the next day and confess to his teacher as well. His mother told me that she had to look at the paper he signed again to realize that it wasn’t legit.

So here is my dilemma. The crime my son committed was wrong and needed to be dealt with severely. The character he displayed was refreshing and quite impressive. As judge and jury was I to take into consideration that his conscious wouldn’t allow him to get away with it?

At first, I stood my ground. I reasoned that just because someone has a conscious or moral obligation to himself doesn’t mean that the punishment shouldn’t fit the crime. Or does it?

I wrestled with this quite a bit. Melissa, my current wife, disagreed. She called me later that night and informed me that she was suffering from the same guilt that I was. She reminded me that Jordan knew what he did was wrong as displayed by his unsolicited confession. She also believed that if I came down too hard on him it might deter any future confessions. I might inadvertently teach him to ignore his conscious and roll the dice. So, I relented. Jordan will go on the camping trip this weekend and I thought of a more creative way to punish behavior I never want repeated. The punishment is still harsh enough to correct but lenient enough to reward his integrity.

I want my kids to understand that in life consequences are inevitable. I also want them to trust that their parents are understanding, yet firm. I only hope that this experience was enough to teach my son the lesson he was supposed to learn. I know I learn valuable lessons in patience, gratitude, and trust.

Strangely, a symptom I suffer from while traveling is vivid, Technicolor dreams that I only seem to have in hotel rooms. I’m not sure if I get a better sleep at home or I have more mental stimulation in unfamiliar places.

Before going into the specifics of the dream that prompted this entry, I would like to start with my interpretation of dreams. In his book The Interpretation of Dreams, Freud surmised that dreams were the “day residue” or a byproduct of the visual, auditory and thought stimulation of the previous day. Though this definition of dreams has been challenged by other psychology professionals, it has been a source of reference to explain the dream phenomenon.

I agree with Freud. I believe that our lives play out much like a movie. Our five senses act as camera and projector, recording and displaying the events of our lives in our minds. There are certain thoughts and feelings that we express without censure and others that we keep to ourselves. This is the stimulation that doesn’t make it pass the “director’s cut” of our lives. The cutting room floor is what feeds our dreams. I believe that order and logic are left out of this film and we just “see” rolls of tape in no specific sequence. Sometimes we get lucky and we dream in a sensible fashion. There are other times our dreams are left to individual perception. While trying to figure out my own dreams, I retrace my steps to get a more accurate explanation of the film I watched while sleeping.

Last night I dreamed of Armageddon. My first thought was to search my memories for conversations, recent television shows or movies, and anything that would bring me to the thought of the world ending. The Armageddon I dreamed of wasn’t the world but my on singular demise. In my dream, I was sitting in a classroom and was suddenly overcome with a feeling of urgency. My mind was racing and in a moment the world seemed to smear and blur right in front of me as if I was watching a videotape while fast forwarding. I dreamed in a sort of third person watching myself but my thoughts were the thoughts of the person in my dream, not the dreamer. I began to instantly think of my afterlife knowing that the end was moments away. In a flash, all the mistakes I had made throughout my actual life ran through my mind. I remember becoming overwhelmed by the guilt of pain and agony that I’ve caused. Guilt gave way to fear as I realized that I was about to die and there was nothing I could do about the next second or the years that preceded that moment. As my dream identity began to blur with the world around him, I suddenly felt a sense of complete and utter peace and tranquility.

So what was that about? I want to believe that I lack the ability to make premonitions in the dream world. For whatever reason, I believe that subconsciously I’ve been punishing myself for my past mistakes and I was sending myself a message. My dream was about the second leading up to the end of my world. What I realized was that death was not the time to contemplate life. There was nothing I could do about my demise and it was only until I accepted the inevitability of dying did I receive peace. In essence, I taught myself to atone for my mistakes and continue to live; changing only the things that I can actually change.

Is it possible to learn life lessons from ourselves? That’s up to philosophers and psychoanalysts to decide. I believe that I’ve lived long enough to avoid my past mistakes and write the script of my life everyday while enjoying the leftovers during a deep, blissful, sleep.

So what happens when a man stumbles upon a woman who is in relentless pursuit of these virtues? How am I to handle the pressure of a woman who puts God and her family before herself? That is pressure.

It’s funny; it is almost easier to love a woman who has no ambition to be pleasing in God’s or my sight. It’s easier because it provides plenty of excuses for the ambitious man with shortcomings. It had to be a simple undertaking for Adam to blame Eve for his disobedience. As a matter of fact, Adam blamed both God and Eve!

“Then the man said, ‘The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I ate.’” Genesis (3:12)

The virtuous woman gives the man no opportunity for excuses. She is not easily tempted because her focus is on what is important in her life. This puts the responsibility on the man to do the same thing.

I took the liberty to break down the Proverbs 31 wife and how my own wife ascribes to these principles. I also show how I have come short of deserving such a blessing.

A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.

But what of him? Does he bring her the same? Loving this woman of virtue who supplies physical and emotional needs is indeed a difficult task. It is as if a woman who is constantly taking provides a better backdrop for excuses for failures. Having full confidence in my wife and lacking nothing that has value gives me the freedom to pursue my dreams without fear. I have no one but myself to blame for my shortcomings. How tragic.

Though it will probably break my dear mother’s heart, I have to confess my first time was shortly after my twelfth birthday. That’s right I was twelve years old and so was she. It almost seems perverted to say this now considering I have a twelve-year-old son; luckily he seems to be more focused on sports than girls.

My first time was everything a first time should be, confusing, awkward, and terrifying. She was just as scared but we were both determined to go through with it. There was pressure from our peers because it seemed that everyone in the seventh grade was doing it. Everyone but me, but I was going to change that.

Though I had seen it done in movies and in magazines, I wasn’t exactly sure about the mechanics of the process. She was no pro either. I guess we both just assumed the other would know what to do when the time came.

We discussed it at great length before the actual act. Even speaking about the subject to her made me quiver. I remember how beautiful she was and how special our little relationship was to me. I was happy that my first time would be with my girlfriend. Back then we called it “going together.” Which was a bit of an oxymoron because we were too young to go anywhere together except class. This made privacy extremely difficult. I offered my mother’s house (sorry Mom) because she worked late and we wouldn’t be interrupted. My girlfriend suggested that we find a spot at the school where we could be alone. We were both student atheletes so we had a reason to stay at school late without alarming our parents. I would tell the football coach that I wasn’t feeling well and she would tell the volleyball coach the same. That would give us about an hour and a half of solitude from the rest of the world. We set a date. We decided Friday would be best, that way if things didn’t go well we would have the weekend to recover before seeing each other again.

There were so many questions. I had heard from the eighth graders that if we weren’t careful or if we did it too long we could accidently make a baby. I definitely didn’t want that. The people in the movies just did it. I wanted that type of boldness and fearlessness. The morning we were going to do it I woke up earlier than usual. Although there would be eight hours of school before our inaugural experience, I began to prepare. I brushed my teeth twice and used some of my mother’s mouthwash, the kind that stung when you swished it. My father was a fan of Drakkar cologne so I slapped some on my face the way he did. I wore my only Polo shirt for the special occasion and picked one of my mother’s roses to give my girlfriend at school. We saw each other in the cafeteria at breakfast and could barely make eye contact. I asked her if she wanted to call the whole thing off but she assured me that she was ready. We only shared one class together, which was homeroom, the last class of the day. Our homeroom teacher was very laid back so we had a chance to talk before the last bell. I noticed at some point she had put lip-gloss on her lips, which I very much appreciated. I also remember her eyes had a tinge of color to them that afternoon. I felt so special that she risked punishment and wore makeup for our special day.

The time had come and my stomach was turning flips. My feet felt as though I were walking through quicksand as I made my way to the school’s auditorium. She was a member of the audiovisual club. Her teacher had entrusted her to be the sole student with a key to the A/V room where the televisions and camera’s where kept. Our code was for me to knock on the door three times, pause and then knock twice more. The pass code was received and she cracked the door to ensure that our secret had not been compromised. I stepped through the door and she locked it behind me. Standing in front of her, thousands of thoughts raced through my mind. Was I supposed to grab her or let her touch me first? Should we talk before we start or just do it? How long should it take? Was she supposed to go first or was I? Even though we knew why we were there I still felt the need to ask permission before we started. I wanted to say something witty but the only thing I could make out was, “I’m nervous.” She reminded me how much I liked her by offering a comforting, “Me too.”

When we started we fumbled and stumbled until we suddenly reached a moment of bliss. In the little over a decade that I had lived to that moment, I don’t remember a more pleasurable experience. Honestly, now twenty-one years later, I can only think of a handful that could compete. It seemed to be over before it started but that didn’t make it any less incredible. Immediately after we finished I remember looking in her smoky brown eyes searching for a semblance of approval and satisfaction. Like most men, I worried that despite my efforts the encounter was anticlimactic for her. She smiled. It was the most salacious smile I had or will ever witness. Her smile whispered to me that everything was okay and that she had no regrets. Also, still keeping in true form of my gender, I immediately wondered when and if we could do it again. I remained silent because at that moment, I was beyond content.

Throughout my life I would repeat the enjoyable act I shared with my first girlfriend with many more including, of course, my wife. A gentleman would never rate the quality of present or past women in his life but I can say the overall experience of my “first” will remain memorable. I’ve gotten better over the years and have managed to add a few tricks and treats to my repertoire. Though my wife proudly serves as my only judge she has mentioned an improvement over the years.

I’ve always found it a bit of a dangerous undertaking to reminisce too deeply about the past. However, every once in a while, I like to close my eyes and travel back to that A/V closet and privately enjoy the exhilaration of my first kiss.