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I have always believed that writing is how I see. I began this space decades ago as a classroom extension; a place where pop culture, history, sport, education meet. Collide in ways that made thinking visible and unavoidable. Much has changed since then. I’ve taught across continents, coached athletes from beginners to professionals, pursued doctoral work, raised a family between multiple cultures, and spent decades inside classrooms, learning environments, watching how ideas shape people and how people shape the world. But one thing has not changed: I still write to make sense of what matters. Only An Apple A Day is a thinking space. Part reflection, part analysis, part signal. Where education, culture, leadership, identity, and performance meet. Not hot takes. Not noise. Just considered thought from someone who has lived inside the work. If you are here, you are probably someone who still believes ideas matter. Welcome | ようこそう
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Golden Showers, Bronze Baths, and Silver Linings

Some readers might see this post as my tribute to the Games of the XXX Olympiad in London. I could definitely use this as an opportunity to give my two cents from atop my soapbox. I could discuss my disgust for domestic media outlets and independent, freelance Facebook reporters who spoiled my Olympic experience with premature results before they aired “live” on primetime NBC. I could say how disappointed I was with P&G from suggesting that mothers are the only parent who deserve thanks. I could shout out (in no particular order): the feats of Michael Phelps or the awesomeness of Oscar Pistorius or the strength of Kayla Harrison or Serena Williams' C-walk at the prim and proper All England Club or Usain Bolt for shocking everyone, except himself, with his electrifying performances or the countless other amazing stories. I could even add to the commentary about "Golden" Gabby Douglas' hair - which has been the topic of debate in the black community - and explain why she should go to Howard University (even though a Spelman College alum said that as far as HBCU rankings are concerned, #1 Spelman suits Gabby better than Howard, which is nothing more than Viktoria Komova).


I could, but I won't.
This post has nothing to do with the Olympics - despite its title - and everything to do with diapers and the changing of them. From the moment I knew I was going to be a father, I couldn’t wait to change diapers. I was a little rusty. I've been out of the diaper changing game for about 14 years with my last successful one in '98 with Bryce and Davia. I was eager to see if muscle memory works with changing a diaper as it does with riding a bike. More importantly, I secretly have a thing for dirty diapers. It's like Christmas every changing; I can't wait to see what exciting presents my babies have for me. So, in our attempts to have the best Christmases, I mean, diapering experience possible, KJo and I did extensive research. There’s nothing better than a well wrapped Christmas gift and we had to choose between the "traditional" disposable approach, the "trendy" cloth-diapering phenomenon, or the "au naturale" movement (you know, where you call "773-202...boop beep boop beep LUNA" to get their signature newspaper-carpet so that baby can be uninhibited and unrestrained). "Traditional" disposals are too boring and too costly and "au naturale"is just plan nasty. Cloth-diapers - not the white handkerchief-looking things with the safety pin as I assumed - have a wide variety of designs and styles to choose from. We narrowed the field down to Bumgenius (the shell cloth design with a washable insert) and G Diapers (the shell-hybrid cloth design with a disposable, biodegradable insert). For me, G Diapers brought me back to my childhood. 

This is how we do it, all hands are in the air/
And wave them from here to there/
If you're an O.G. mack or a wanna-be player/
You see the hood's been good to me/ 
ever since I was a lower-case G/
- This is How We Do it 
Montel Jordan (’95)

Every G Diaper has a lower-case G on the back. That’s all I needed to know to make my decision. When July 21st came and both Bernard David and Kaylani were 3lbs 1oz and 4lbs 10oz respectively, they weren’t G Diaper ready. They need about a month or two to get their weight up. Until then, our G Diaper Starters Bundle will collect dust as they’ll be premie Pampers disposables. At Parenting Boot Camp (Northwestern’s NICU), the nurses taught us some diaper changing fundamentals: first, put the new diaper underneath the waiting baby; next, put the wipes at the ready, finally, commence the changing, and a special note: place the boys penis down to prevent leakage and for girls make sure that the vagina is clear of feces to prevent contamination wiping front to back. It’s that simple. The difficulty is preparing your nose, stomach, reflexes for all the antics that comes with diaper changing. All this talk about diapers reminds me of a joke:

This guy comes into a bar, walks up to the bartender. Says, "Bartender, I got me a bet for you. I'm gonna bet you $300 that I can [urinate] into that glass over there and not spill a single, solitary drop." The bartender looks. I mean, we're talking, like, this glass is like a good ten feet away. He says, "Now wait, let me get this straight. You're trying to tell me you'll bet me $300 that you can [urinate], standing over here, way over there into that glass, and not spill a single drop?" Customer looks up and says, "That's right." Bartender says, "Young man, you got a bet." The guy goes, "Okay, here we go. Here we go." Pulls out his thing. He's looking at the glass, man. He's thinking about the glass. He's thinking about the glass. Glass. He's thinking about the glass, glass. Thinking about his [penis]. [Penis], glass, [penis], glass, [penis], glass, [penis], glass, [penis], glass, [penis], glass, [penis], glass. And then, *foosh*, he lets it rip. And he [urinates] all over the place, man. He's [urinating] on the bar. He [urinating] on the stools, on the floor, on the phone, on the bartender! He's [urinating] everywhere except the [stinking] glass! Right? Okay. So, bartender, he's laughing his [butt] off. He's $300 richer. He's like, "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" [Urine] dripping off his face. "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He says, "You [stupid] idiot, man! You got it in everything except the glass! You owe me $300 [sucka]." Guy goes, "Excuse me just one-one little second." Goes in the back of the bar. In back, there's a couple of guys playing pool. He walks over to them. Comes back to the bar. Goes, "Here you go, Mr. Bartender, 300." And the bartender's like, "What the [hell] are you so happy about? You just lost $300, idiot!" The guy says, "Well, see those guys over there? I just bet them $500 a piece that I could [urinate] on your bar, [urinate] on your floor, [urinate] on your phone, and [urinate] on you, and not only would you not be mad about it, you'd be happy."
- Desperado (‘95)

The bartender had the perfect attitude and I too want to show unbridled happiness when either Kaylani or Bernard David use me as their human-diaper. I think it’s developmentally appropriate because 1) my children are able to recognize my face and voice; 2) with that recognition they have a great sense of timing with their strike; and 3) they use precision and accuracy to hit a target. 

As I watched the Olympics in the NICU family waiting room between my diaper changing duties, I pondered what role my children will play in the 2032 Olympics and beyond. Will they be participants or spectators? Will they cover, report, or document the games? In thinking about their futures, I also questioned the present: why is there not an Olympic sport for diaper changing? There are millions and millions of fathers in the world, so why hasn’t this been done already? I’m sure we can come to a consensus about the rules and regulations for the official Diaper Changing to debut at the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympics.

First, let me say I am fully aware that the term "Golden Shower" was popularized by The Boondocks (Season 1, Episode 2) and is synonymous with a certain entertainer from a certain city, both of whom will remain nameless. I want to distance myself from that individual and reclaim the term “golden showers” for fathers. Charlie & Andy - from the How to Be a Dad blog - give humor insight into the Art of Diaper Changing with Diaper Safety Tips, Skid Marks, and - my personal favorites - Diaper Loads Part I and Part II. Their illustrations gives the perils and pitfalls of diaper changing. It's these perils and pitfalls that are what make fatherhood so great; they are a father's right-of-passage. I want my trial by diaper. If Olympic athletes get rewarded for their prowess, then fathers should also be able to earn medals for the fathering prowess. When the IOC finally returns my calls, here's what I will propose for the sport of Diaper Changing:

Rule and Regulations - 
  1. a diaper - when timed for competition - can be changed in 45 seconds and fathers should be shooting for 12 diapers in an allotted time of 9 minutes 
  2. it will be Pool Play - eight groups, five fathers per group - where the top four from each group advance to the single-elimination tournament

Scoring -  
  1. Judging will be like in gymnastics where there are certain element of the diaper changing routine that must be in place
    1. use of only one baby wipe is an efficient and conservative standard. A one point deduction will be assess for each wipe used over one
    2. medals will be reward for each diaper giving a father the opportunity to earn up to 12 medals each match
    3. the father with the most medals at the end of the match, wins
  1. Medal are as follow:
    1. Completing a diaper change and getting hit with projectile urine OR anything more than five points deduction OR over 75 seconds gets a Golden Shower Medal 
    2. Completing a diaper change and having feces left on the fingers or hands/arms or even face OR between one and four points deduction OR between 46 and 74 seconds gets a Bronze Bath Medal 
    3. successfully changing a diaper with none of the above incidents under 45 seconds AND no deductions gets the coveted Silver Lining Medal.

As you can see, I really put some thought into this. Every diaper change I have been simulating match play by timing myself and trying to earn the lease amount of deductions. I've even been getting coaching tips from other fathers (little do they know they'll be my competition in 2016). I don't think it's fair that some father stoop as low as to use performance enhancers from companies like Beba Bean, who are profiting from Golden Shower Medal avoidance with products like the Pee-Pee Teepee. I refuse to use any banned aids when my origami skills are sufficient enough to make one out of baby wipes. I decided attempt a few changes with no baby wipes on Bernard David in hopes of experiencing the defeat of a Golden Shower Medal. It happened on August 5th at 6:23pm. A routine changing left me soaking and my response was an emphatic “YES!!” followed by some giggling. I was so excited. After two weeks of waiting, I finally felt like a real father. My son had unloaded on me. To be fair, he was in an isolatte, so he only peed on my hand. Nevertheless, a Gold Shower Medal is still a Gold Shower Medal. Five days later I earned my first Bronze Bath Medal. With this medal, I can honestly say I cautiously expecting to get shat on. There were a few close calls with Kaylani, who we found out is very regular with her grown-up farts. Each time she released into a waiting, open diaper. By accident, I discovered that if I slowly pushed her legs to her stomach in a bicycle motion, she’d release. On August 10th, I attempted my trick to clear her out as we embarked on our first bath and...let me put it this way: you know that frosting thing that pastry chefs use to decorate their pastries? Let’s say that icing implement was dropped on the floor and the chef happened to jump on it...yeah, that’s exactly how Kaylani’s liquid pooh squirted out on me, with the same sound. 

I’m now in training. I take diaper changing seriously and my goal is to consistently earn Silver Lining Medals from now on. When the Preliminary Diaper Games air on ESPN 8, “The Ocho” - Dick Vitale will call me a Diaper Dandy Daddy, a rookie father who is simply sensational when it come to discarding dirty diapers. In other words: like Kaylani and Bernard David after a good feeding, I’ll be the *grunts and turns red* shhhh....


*Don't forget to check out photos on Tumblr here -> B, being dad 

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Milk: The Breast is Yet to Come


There will be topics which have high frequency. This is one of those topics. Breasts. To be honest, I still giggle like my teenage students - whom of which turn a constitutional lesson into a chuckle fest when I ask, "what are some duties of the executive branch?" - when I hear certain words. Obviously, breast is one of them. So, it is my personal goal to be: relatable, but not raunchy; informative without being ignorant and insensitive; scholarly minus the sexuality; avoiding the egregious...sorry, I'll stop with the adjective alliterations. 
This whole breastfeeding experience has been very eyeopening. I have a fond appreciation for KJo's breasts, but now the pair of breasts I've known for four and a half years are the life source for Kaylani and Bernard David. My respect for hers is bordering on worship. I won't get into the details of my idolatry for two reasons: first, what occurs behind closed doors is between me and my...ahem, KJo's breasts; second, discussing belief systems and practices is a great way to lose friends.
In Postpartum, we were told that with Kaylani Lynne and Bernard David being born pre-term (34 weeks exactly), milk had not fully developed and to pump anyway to train the body. The first few pumpings, nothing. Despite what the nurses said, we both expected to see something. Concluding a pumping session with nothing made us feel, empty. Neither one of us said it; however, it was the elephant in the room: breast-milk is the universally assumed sign of motherhood. A women is suppose to produce milk for the nourishment of her offspring. If that said woman cannot...
Yeah, that's where our minds were headed and honestly, that is not the mental space parents should be in. I compare our plight for breast-milk to Hook with Robin Williams. In the movie, Peter Pan grew up. He left Neverland, he changed his name (Perer Banning), started a family, and forgot how to fly. It wasn't until Thud Butt explained to him what it takes to fly.


Thud Butt: Peter, can I talk to you? 
Peter Pan: Sure, Thud.
Thud Butt: I remember Tootles.
Peter Pan: You do?
Thud Butt: He was lost too.
Peter Pan: How could you know Tootles?
Thud Butt: He was a Lost Boy.
[Thud Butt takes out a small pouch]
Thud Butt: These are his marbles. These are his happy thoughts.
[Peter empties out the pouch of marbles into his hand and laughs]
Peter Pan: He really did lose his marbles, didn't he?
Thud Butt: [laughs] Yeah, he lost them good.
[they both laugh]
Thud Butt: Peter, you know what?
Peter Pan: What?
Thud Butt: My happy thought will help you.
Peter Pan: What's your happy thought, Thud?
Thud Butt: Mine's my mother. Do you remember your mother, 
Peter?Peter Pan: Wish I could.


Eventually, Peter Pan is able to fly because his “happy thought” was when he became a father; his “happy thought” was his son Jack. “Happy thoughts”...what a concept! Kaylani and Bernard, the look on their faces when we made eye contact the first time I held them, will always be my "happy thought". I guess I'm like Peter Banning in a way. His “happy thoughts” allowed him to fly. It was my “happy thoughts” that got the milk really flowing. Our first batch of measurable colostrum (roughly 8 mL total) came less than 48 hours after birth. Then, less than three hours later we saw a 15 mL increase per breast. I was so excited and cautious at the same time. I know every mother has to experience the heartbreak of having their hard earned pumping wasted on the floor. I didn't want the milk to be on my hands. I went three days without an incident. Then came Thursday, July 26, 2012, which happens to be KJo's birthday. She just pumped 55 mL from Ms. Right Breast for Kaylani and Bernard's noon feeding. I even safeguarded against spillage during transit with the yellow screw-on Medela caps. In NICU, I placed the bottle on the counter, took the Medela caps off and...
Those 55 mL were two feedings worth and our attempt at being ahead of Kaylani and Bernard's feeding schedule. Our efforts were ruined. It was bound to happen eventually. I'm so glad it didn't happen to me. One of the intern nurses, in her attempt to transfer from the pumping bottle to a feeding bottle, knocked it over. The three nurses tried to remain calm, but we both knew it happened. They didn't realize we saw it from beginning to end. It took them 65 seconds to tell us. Our reaction: stoic. The proverb "you can't cry over spilled milk" couldn't have been more accurate. I was upset, I can only imagine how KJo felt. She didn't show it though. What would going off on an intern do: Make her cry? Most likely. Set an example that the Murrays are not to be messed with when it comes to their milk? Maybe. Make KJo feel better? I doubt it. Let's assume the first two hold true, then we've got an emotional, unexperienced nurse handling our babies the rest of her shift. That would not give KJo peace of mind. Doing the unexpected is, unexpected. It's not the loud, obnoxious people you should worry about. It's those calm, quiet ones to watch out for. We were calm, quiet, and as teachers we tried to make her blunder a positive learning experience.
Now, there's even more pressure to produce. KJo's only duty *chuckle* consists of pumping. No time for sleeping, no time for stage fright. It's go time! Like clock-work, every three hours - 12, 3, 6, and 9 - we're pumping. I say we because this is a team effort. Plus if I don't get involved, I'll feel useless. It would be nice if I could produce milk, but unfortunately I cannot. So I assist in the milk-gathering process to feel like I contributed. There are men who would consider themselves to be "breast-men." I laugh at their chauvinism, arrogance, and self-appointed title. As for me: I'm knowledgable and informed about KJo's shield size. I assist in the assembly and breakdown of the Medela Pump In Style Breast Pump. I'm responsible for sterilization of bottles and pumping equipment. I label and store up to eight tubes of fresh milk daily. I've safely transported several hundred mLs of cargo. I'm proficient in how to use Lily Padz. If this sounds like qualities you'd find on a résumé, it should. 
Hello, my name is Bernard Murray and I am a lactation guru.


*Don't forget to check out photos on Tumblr here -> B, being dad 

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Wow...

And just like that...
my off balance, upside-down world has been corrected. My little man and my baby girl have given my life a clearer purpose/perspective. To quote one of my all-time favorite movies: "I just had a near life experience" and life is sweet. I can always count on Fight Club to give out great life tips during life's big occasions. What about this one:


Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers failed, what does that tell you about God?


I wholeheartedly agree with the first part, on the other hand, I will do everything in my power not to fail for my babies' sake. 


I just said two days ago that it would be sheer lunacy to bring children into this world where events like Aurora, Colorado happen. After last night, allow me to retract my previous statement and say this:


it would be sheer lunacy NOT to bring children into this world where events like Aurora, Colorado happen; it would be socially irresponsible to not want to teach and raise children to be socially responsible. I know I will not be "The World's Greatest Dad" and I don't want the title. I hope my children will not buy me a mug or t-shirt or picture frame that says so, for if they do I will gladly accept it with a smile knowing it will be re-gifted as a White Elephant. Parenting is not a competition. I have yet to see the "Most Outstanding Father in a Familial Setting"award. I also don't want to fall into the trap of comparing my parenting to my fathers' parenting. We are three totally different people raising totally different children in totally different eras...well, not exactly. Of course my fathers are the benchmark I will base my performance on; however, if I know them, they will want me to be a better father than they were. Just like I'll want my son to be a better father than me. With that said, I want to be the best father I have the propensity to be and then some.


I'm up for the challenge and I know I will make some mistakes (which will be multiplied by two) along the way. As a Social Scientist, I consider this fatherhood thing to be a lifelong experiment. My children - as unPC as this is to say - are my guinea pigs. I'm hoping and praying that I do not mess up too bad. I will admit that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and despite my stubbornness, I will need assistance. I won't ask often, so take it when you can get it.


*Don't forget to check out photos on Tumblr here -> B, being dad 

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