First, let’s all say Happy Birthday to my sister, Tayari. As most of you know, she’s put out a couple of good books in the last year. So if you wanna say happy birthday to her, click here and cop one of those books. Or, just go to her blog and tell her Happy Birthday. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.
Moving on, I still haven’t gotten around to talking about my Thanksgiving. Was a lot more fun than I could have expected. That’s not to say I didn’t expect to have fun; instead, it was just more of a blast then expected.

The trip was one of the first time my brother and I have gotten to hang out as we’re both grown folks. He’s about thirteen years older than me, so it lends itself to an interesting big brother/little brother dynamic. I revel in being the little brother, I’ll admit. People that know me are fuckin’ tired of hearing stories about my brother, tired of me talking about the advice my brother has given me, and all that fun stuff.
Well, those folks just have to deal. Rolling with me means listening to lots of funny stories, and most of them come from him. Rolling with him also means dealing with my different philosophies on the world, most of which were formed by soaking up game from him. That’s just how it goes.
But for the first time, we kicked it as two grown people. Where I usually see him when he’s in my city for business, I saw him when I was in his city for business. I had a couple of big meetings–sorry, no details right now–and I wound up telling him how I handled things. For one of the first times, he listened with very little to add on how I could have handled the situations better. That, my friends, is a serious milestone for me. Definitely a rite of passage. Almost brings a tear to my eyes…almost.
But that part was really fun. Met his new lady friend, and she turned out to be a winner. Between that, good business, and generally hanging with the brother, I couldn’t ask for anything more.
The holiday itself started with a touch football game in Nyack, NY. Don’t ask me where that is because I don’t know. Somewhere where lots of white people live.
But the game itself has a cool story. They call it the Turkey Bowl, and it’s been played for twenty-five consecutive years. I didn’t realize how dead serious it was when I got out there, but the Turkey Bowl plays no games. I’m here to say that your intrepid Baba did get an interception, which is a big deal for first-time players, from what I hear. Granted, only one pass was even thrown in my direction on offense, but such is the life of a Turkey Bowl rookie.
Oh well, I’ll get mine next year. Yeah, I’ll probably be back next year. Hear that, Mumba? You too, Paul. I’ll be runnin’ routes to get in training.
Anyhoo, here’s the picture of the post-Bowl trip to Fitzpatrick’s, some bar that I’d probably not attend otherwise. Very West Virginia. And that’s not quite meant in a good way. And no, I’m not trying to look hard in this picture. I just don’t smile much. So, that means that I’m just always hard.
Ummm, let’s find a different way to phrase that. Eh, do with it what you will.