Mickey Z follows my substack too & wrote this stack & it touched me, I wanted to share; why? because he showed us why having a father (often villified) & in your life is CRITICAL for a young child,

boy or girl as a father is critical to the shaping of girl child’s mind! yet a father is vital to a young boy becoming a man & Mickey Z is fortunate & his story is touching, beautiful & please support

Post-Woke

My father has always had my back (& still does)

In the beginning… I shared a fourth-floor tenement apartment with my parents, older sister, and a fair amount of roaches. My grandfather was on the third floor (and my uncle once lived with him). I had an aunt on the fifth floor. In a building right around the corner, another aunt lived with her daughter (I’ll call her J…
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2 days ago · 13 likes · 5 comments · Mickey Z.

Fathers are hated and villified yet has equal roles in the home and life of the children. We must regain that regard for our dads and mainstream him again in the home. He is vital, central, key, core, always was and no EFF in feminist groups, no women groups, no antifa groups, no BLM groups, no leftist democrat or even republican twisted sick people officials, no governments, no woke morons, no sick twisted groups, no LBGTQRSPPRMT groups can relegate him.
Long live dads!

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‘In the beginning…
I shared a fourth-floor tenement apartment with my parents, older sister, and a fair amount of roaches. My grandfather was on the third floor (and my uncle once lived with him). I had an aunt on the fifth floor. In a building right around the corner, another aunt lived with her daughter (I’ll call her J).
One evening, when I was 14 years old, I headed out after dinner to meet with my hooligan friends. I just reached my corner when I noticed that my cousin J was getting teased and bothered by Frankie, a Puerto Rican kid who lived in her building.

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me (Matthew 25:40).

Frankie was a little younger than me but was thicker and bigger. I strolled over and aggressively told him to stop. Frankie charged me. I nailed him with a left to the face and used my right arm to get him in a headlock. He let loose with a torrent of vulgar insults so, with him still in the headlock, I aimed his head at the window of a parked car.
The collision of flesh and glass resulted in him backing off in a daze with his nose bloodied. Unbeknownst to me, someone had told Frankie’s father and when I looked up, I saw this grown-ass man moving toward me — wielding a baseball bat.

No weapon formed against me shall prosper (Isaiah 54:17).

I evaded him and took off toward the local schoolyard to find my crew.
Unbeknownst to Frankie’s father, my aunt was watching the whole thing from her window. She had called my mother with word that a grown-ass man was threatening me with a baseball bat.

My Dad (lower right) with his crew back in the day.

As I’ve told you, my father was a federal agent who carried a .357 Magnum. But his strength consisted of far more than just a position or weapon. Simply put, no one ever stood up to him. In turn, if anyone crossed me, they’d have to answer to him — as was the case that evening.
When my Dad turned the corner, Frankie’s father grabbed his son and they were soon barricaded in their apartment. My father didn’t bother to pursue them.

The wicked will fall into their own nets, while I pass by in safety (Psalm 141:10).

Meanwhile, I had found two of my closest friends (both of them also 14). We were on our way back to my block to team up against Frankie’s father but all we saw was my Dad standing outside, still angry.
He demanded an explanation so I shared the same story I told you above. Having to be a “parent” at that moment, he ordered me to go upstairs. I tried to counter but he would have none of it. I shrugged to my friends and trudged up four flights of stairs.

What the enemy meant for my harm, you will turn into my advantage (Genesis 50:30).

My Mom was still on the phone with my aunt as I told her what happened. That’s when I heard about Frankie’s father — even though he was carrying a bat — running for the hills. She and I had a good chuckle over that.
In the name of not rewarding aggression, my Mom was trying not to show that was she proud of me and my Dad. But I could tell.

You are my vindicator; you take what is wrong and make it right. I never need to take matters into my own hands (Psalm 7:6). 

My father entered the apartment and I rushed over to plead my case. He held his hand up to silence me and said, “I know, I know. It wasn’t your fault. You can go out and be with your friends. But please, just for tonight, can you stay out of trouble?”
I thanked him, took off, and caught up with my friends. For the record, we did not stay out of trouble that night.

Having a Dad like mine gave me a profound peace of mind. He always had my back. Everyone knew it and nobody tested him.

Though I am surrounded by troubles, you will bring me safely through them (Psalm 138:7).

As my Dad aged, got sick, and eventually passed, I tried to rely solely on myself until something from all those years of Catholic school came back to me:
I’ve always had a heavenly Father who has my back. If anyone is foolish enough to mess with me, they will answer to Him. Whenever I feel as if I am surrounded by troubles, I pray: “Father, please father me.”

Your yoke is easy and your burden is light. And I will find rest unto my soul (Matthew 11:29-30).

Thanks, Dad…’

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Author: Dr. Paul Alexander