Compared to the other “Occupy _________,” this one is more like “Take Up Some Space Fayetteville.” Hey, I give them credit for at least setting up camp and making a statement…


Compared to the other “Occupy _________,” this one is more like “Take Up Some Space Fayetteville.” Hey, I give them credit for at least setting up camp and making a statement…


It’s amazing how after all these years, this is the first time I actually visited Fayetteville’s only landmark — the Markethouse. Probably because back in the day it was where they sold slaves, but still. I called a couple of my people and they all not only mentioned they never visited it, but they asked why I was there.
Regardless, we took Najwa downtown Fayetteville, NC, where there was a little festival and people walking around in character to Dickens’ Scrooge. I don’t know the story like that, but did Scrooge have a slave?
When Dr. Anderson said it’s better to overfeed than underfeed an infant, well, it freed us from the anxiety of asking ourselves if we were feeding Najwa too much. So, we fed her. Sure, she has chunky cheeks, and she’s got some weight relative to her age, but she is far from having an obesity issue.
Actually, she looks like a well-fed child, a healthy one with no risk of malnutrition, a fully developed body meaning a fully developed everything else, from her heart to her bones to her brain. I’d rather spend money now on an extra jar of pureed squash than save it for medical bills later.
But of course kids are kids, and one of the kids at the babysitter likes to call her “Fatty Mama.” Doesn’t faze me. It’s kind of cute, actually. It’s said out of affection. The kids at the babysitters love Najwa. And vice versa. As soon as we walk through the door they’re all in each other’s face and so far, Najwa doesn’t have separation anxiety as we leave, engrossed with her extended family.
But as she gets older, kids will evolve into little imps. Little devils. And eventually, someone’s kid is going to say something, not kidding, but meant to be hurtful. And there may be haters. And bullies. And there’s going to be a time when she comes to me asking for advice of what to do.
The other day at work Arnold [the boss] said a high school in Fayetteville, NC, had a stripper pole at the prom after party and the students made good use of it. I didn’t know he was talking about Westover — my high school!
Fellow Wolverine Keisha sent me the link with photos and now that I have a daughter who one day might take interest in whatever I wrote back when, it’s probably not appropriate for me to post the pictures.
And you probably shouldn’t click on this link to see for yourself.
It’s been a minute since I was in my hometown, Fayetteville, NorthCak. Usually my mom comes to DC for her visits with the doctors at Walter Reed Hospital where she received her kidney transplant. But since those don’t happen as fast as Najwa’s growing, Nduku and I took a road trip for my mom’s birthday.
And I promise my mom was smiling the entire time we were there. Last time my mom saw her, Najwa slept most of the day, laid on her back most of the day and slept the rest of the day. And slept. Six months later and Najwa is one active baby. We got to my childhood home around 4 am but my mom and Najwa were acting like it was 4 in the afternoon.
Najwa’s sitting up now. Has her ears pierced. Can hold things in her hand. And knows how to let us know when she wants attention with a shriek. Which is every time we’re not giving her attention. But she sat still long enough every now and again to take a few pictures…
It’s been six months since my mom last saw Najwa. She probably thinks Najwa’s still a newborn, but at her 6-month doctor’s visit, Najwa tipped the scales at 20 pounds 12 ounces and measured 26 inches tall [or is it short?].
Not only did Najwa get four more shots [vaccinations], she got her ears pierced, and I really did try to hold it but I couldn’t stop laughing from seeing her face when the pediatrician popped that needle through her earlobe. I would’ve taken pictures but I was struggling with holding her legs down.
This weekend, though, we’re making a trip down to The ‘Ville for my mom’s birthday as I resist the urge to sneak out for the Prince concert in Greensboro. I will take pictures of grandma’s face when she sees how big our little girl is getting.
And then at the end of the year, Najwa flies for the first time as we head to Kenya for her to meet her other grandma!
So if you’ll be in Fayetteville, NC, this weekend, hit me up.
Reading about Dana’s recent misfortunes of getting scammed got my thinking about some of the scams I’ve fallen for. One in particular may not be for as much as Dana, but getting scammed even for a dollar hurts. And as a teenager $65 was big money.
Back in my more naive days just after high school, I saw this sign in front of a trailer advertising instant approvals for a new credit card coming out. In Fayetteville, NC, a business in a trailer wasn’t unusual, but that wasn’t the first sign that something was wrong.
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Several months ago I attended a book signing by Bruce Feiler. His book The Council of Dads was about to be released, and it was fitting to hear his story since we had just found out we were pregnant. The book is about how when he found out he had cancer, he started thinking about what would happen with his daughters if he were to die as far as having a father figure:
In 2008, bestselling author Feiler (Walking the Bible
) learned he had a rare, life-threatening tumor in his left leg. Fearing what his absence would do to the lives of his young daughters, Feiler asked six close friends (“Men who know my voice”) to help raise them. Feiler chronicles his battle with cancer, from diagnosis to recovery, as well as his sentimental but moving journey to recruit friends who can carry out his wish to teach his daughters to travel, dream, and live life to its fullest. Feiler’s intimate bond with his friends makes them unusually expressive and communicative (if lacking in humor), and their own biographies lend further inspirational dimensions to the story. Though his letters to friends and family can get ornate (“The Brooklyn Bridge…is looking fresh-faced and handsome overhead, its famed promenade glittering like the pot of gold at the end of a long journey to come”), it’s hard not to get swept along and cheer Feiler on as he fights for his life and his daughters.
His story got me thinking about what if something happened to me. Who would I want to serve on my “council of dads” to help provide guidance to Najwa as she journeyed this life? Naturally Mike Jackson would be one of the first “dads” I’d want Najwa to listen to. As well as Danny Byers, Devin Johnson, Desmond Carter, Chad McKelvey, CJ Cline, Jay Silva and a few others, all of whom I’ll introduce as I continue to blog. Another “dad” just became a dad himself last October — Eric Mack.

Growing up in North Carolina and being a huge NFL fan, I was glued to the tube every single Sunday. And Monday night. And an occasional Thursday and Saturday. Football was [and still is] everything. Bigger than life. The sport of kings and king of sports.
We didn’t have Comcast back then, and Cablevision [or was is Time Warner already?] didn’t have a local channel for every network. Instead, the network that aired the NFC games was based out of Washington, DC; hence every since Redskins game was aired in Fayetteville, NC. Inevitably, I became a Redskins fan. Three Super Bowls also helped. And The Hogs, The Diesel, The Smurfs, Darrel Green chasing down Tony Dorsett, Art Monk catching 106 catches [a record then], and so on and so forth.
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When Bobby Cato first sent me the link, I glanced at the site and thought it was just another club/bar/lounge that opened here in Washington, DC, and I figured I’d visit the site again later to see why Cato would send me a link to another club/bar/lounge that opened here in Washington, DC. Then the Going Out Gurus of the Washington Post did a write up, and now I see why this isn’t just another club/bar/lounge that opened here in Washington, DC.
Golf isn’t really my thing [I've yet to even swing a real golf club], but growing up in Fayetteville, NC, Putt-Putt was pretty popular [the company Putt-Putt was founded by Don Clayton, a Fayetteville, NC, native, for those who just had to know] since there was nothing else to do other than walk around Cross Creek Mall. And H Street Country Club take miniature golf and puts a local spin to it. Where else are you going to find Ben’s Chili Bowl on the first hole?
The course: Local artist Lee T. Wheeler has crafted nine holes that are as much fun to look at as they are to play. Marion Barry is recast as “The Awakening” on hole 8, breaking out of the ground. Also rising from the earth are former presidents Franklin Roosevelt, Teddy Roosevelt and Martin Van Buren on hole 5, now zombies who need to be putted around. On the walls, murals depict an alien invasion of Washington and a tidal wave of rats.
I’m not exactly sure who had the job of weighing everyone and taking their averages, but I found this site with the Top 10 Fattest Cities and they’re not talking about the hot and tempting kind of fat. They mean the “get off your fat @ss and do some jumping jacks” kind of fat.
The kind of fat you get when eating at Waffle House too many times a week [oh how I miss the Waffle House!]. And to my surprise, as I was thinking who really cares about cities like Yuma, Arizona, and Scottsbluff, Nebraska — weighing in at number nine was my hometown, Fayetteville, North Carolina.
Whenever I’m telling Lisa [my homegirl at the agency] something about someone I know, I refer to that person as my homeboy or homegirl — and all together as my people. Everyone is my homeboy or homegirl. Because everyone is either a friend or we just haven’t met yet.
It could be someone who also went to Osterholz American High School [my high school in Germany where my dad was stationed] or Westover High School in Fayetteville, NC, even if we never met. Washington Redskins fans and North Carolina A&T Aggies automatically become my people. If you’re Half-Black and Korean, we’re people. My candidates at the agency are my people. If you’re reading this — you’re my people.

This list is from the new Facebook group for me and my Fayetteville people. I can’t say I did all these, nor do I get some of them, but I’m a Fayettevillain…
- You go to or went to Cross Creek Mall “EVERY” Saturday.
- You Saw Every Movie To Come out in Theaters (cuz thats all there was to do.)
- You tied your Hoodies Up Without Zipping them up in high school.
- You Asked Your Boy To Put you on His Girl’s Cousin.
- You ran to see the fights at the fair in Middle School.
- You ate at Miyabis.
- You’ve Been to Every Smith vs. Westover game.
- You were excited when Petey Pablo first came out.
- You had a leather ID holder around your neck.
- You had scrunchie socks and tall tees.
- You’ve ever hit on your homeboy’s girl.
- You fought your homeboy and y’all were cool 20 minutes later…lmao.
- You are about to fight and your mother wants to jump in…..
- Your girl/boyfriend has been caught in the house.
- You know why the murc and shaw road are beefin and they are right next to each other. (i still dont)
- Your younger siblings are waaaaay bigger than your ass.
- You went to a sporting event just to “hop on somethin”
- You’ve ever said….”Lemme just stick the head in”
- You ever told him….”i never did that before”
- You’ve been at Super Wal-Mart After 1am With nothing to buy.
- You’ve ever called anyone “BO”
- You “LOVE” jungle juices
- You remember Hay Street was where your parents REFUSED to take you back in the day.
- You ate at Sandpiper and Vick’s, what?
- You thought all cities had pawn shops in every strip mall, right next to the gun shops
- If you didn’t go to Cross Creek Mall, the next hottest mall was the Flea Mall
- …which was next to the Sycamore $1 Theater
Years ago when my dad was stationed in Bremerhaven, Germany, I was a bit salty about having to move away from my people back home in Fayetteville, NC. I was just about to enter the 9th grade, high school, freshman year, and I was shipped out to a foreign country surrounded by a bunch of strangers in which most of them didn’t even speak English as a first language.
The years turned out to be some of the best years in my life, but as I was getting used to the idea of being in Germany of all places, I kept up with my people back home. And considering this was the era before email, we did it the old fashion way. Mike “2-3″ Jackson, who I’ve known since the 7th grade, and I wrote a few letters back and forth. Not many, but enough to know we were boys.
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Reminiscing…
Ever since leaving the place nicked Fayette’nam, I don’t find myself wanting to return anytime soon. Maybe the holidays and my mom’s birthday. But I can’t help but to remember the people of this place I still sometimes call home. Nowhere across this globe are you going to find the most mixed up medley of characters, personalities and the most insane fools ever to speak.
Fayettevillains simply have a completely different perception of life. We live in a world that exists because of men and women who kill for a living. It’s the elite of the military, the 82nd Airborne, that keeps Fayetteville on the map. Well, that and high crime concentration statistics.