Lingering Father's Day Thoughts

I didn't want to blog about Father's Day, but these last few days all I seem to think about is my daddy and it's causing me to have major writer's block. I don't know why I didn't want to write about my father. Well actually I do. There are a ton of reasons and the underlying theme is that it's a personal thing. As many of you know my dad just transitioned last year and writing about it could be cathartic or it could be like scratching a newly formed scab. The not knowing has been reason enough, at least up to now, to keep my thoughts to myself. Well anyway every time I talk about my dad and how much I love him and why I credit him for most of my hotness folk say I should write about our relationship (Right Danyel? Happy Tate?) So this is what I gots to say about me and my dad-- Cornelius "Kurt" Moore.

Because of him or should I say, road-trippin with him to Cleveland or Trenton in his silver gray Toronado Oldsmobile, I knew about green anti-freeze before I knew about Tampax Tampons. I could check the oil in his car long before I signed my first check.

Because of my father I knew as much about Miles Davis, Isaac Hayes and Lou Rawls as I did about Michael Jackson, Prince and New Edition and loved them all with equal fervor. I'll never forget the first time he played Cristo Redentor for me and my sister. We were young teenagers at the time. The sound of that mournful chorus and Donald Byrd’s trumpet would thickly flow through the four speakers in the living and dining rooms and fill our home like warm lava. My sister and I would sit back quietly absorbing it all. Today it is easily my most favorite jazz song of all time. As a matter of fact when he was at his most grave state and not conscious, I would play this song and James Brown’s "It's a Man's World." His eyes would be closed but he would squeeze my hand almost every time. Because of my dad's sensitive nature and extremely fragile state at the time, it was a family decision not to inform him of James Brown's transition. His love for James was that serious. I went to the Apollo the night of James' memorial and stood outside on behalf of my dad. Don't think I ever told him though. Yeah my dad gave my sister and I a Jedi's education in jazz and soul.

Because of him I am a sports fanatic. I know a great deal about the Knicks and the Jets and the Mets and the Yankees-- Reggie Jackson, Mookie Wilson, Darryl Strawberry, Dwight Gooden, Patrick Ewing, these dudes were fixtures in my house-- if not on the tv, then in one of our fiery conversations or in some crazy bet between him and my Aunt Ann. My dad loved them all, but the Yankees were his absolute favorite team. Dang I even had my first taste of liquor with my pops watching a Yankees game. I had to be about nine or ten. He asked me to go to the fridge and get him a beer. A cold Miller or Budweiser, of course. He opened the can, took a sip and exhaled "aaahhh." I stood there watching it all-- amused, amazed and curious. I asked to take a sip. He said okay, "but a small one." With a quickness I turned that frigid aluminum can over into my mouth and tried to take the biggest gulp ever. It was good. I wanted more, but he said not this time. I told my sister and this somehow became our little ritual—watch baseball with daddy and we’d get a sip of his beer (maybe two if the Yankees or Mets were ahead). It was funny to us and so cool that daddy would let us taste what we knew was a grown-up drink. Besides we already had moms on lock in the morning with our requests for some of her "coffee-milk" and now we had Bud on Sunday afternoons with daddy. My sister and I, twirling around my dad's chair making ourselves dizzy playing like we were drunk, had a wonderful childhood.

Because of daddy, I am a complete woman. I don't feel like I need to have a man, nor have I ever, to complete me or make me. It's certainly nice to be in a relationship, but my daddy loved his girls and gave us so much of himself that there is no void in terms of needing male validation. From the lil Valentine hearts he would give us filled with Brach chocolates on Valentine's Day to him helping me into the bath after major surgery just eight years ago he was always there with goodies, with jokes, and with a helping hand.

Yep because of him I'm better. My dad made me a better individual (my mom too). So this is why I'm hot. This is why I'm hot! Thanks daddy... you are my original hotness.



For Ayo & Lori.