The Daily Grind Video
(My deceased biological father Joe McCray and my mother Mavis Jackson back in the day)

During the last month of 2009, I took the time to reflect on what successes I have had and what mistakes I have endured or still enduring. Yet out of all of the moments I have had, nothing touches me more nor brings tears to my eyes than the moment I found out who my biological father is.

Or should I say was….it depends on how you look at it. Pause….sigh……it’s hard to blog about this.

Ok, I can do this.

If you have been following me closely this year on Global Grind, my blog, Facebook or Twitter, you read as I embarked upon a hard journey starting back on September 4, the 31st anniversary of my birth. I publicly made a decision to find out who my true biological father is/was. I didn’t really know how to do it so I reached out to people and they helped me map it out. (You know who you are)

But Allah (God) maneuvered things in such a way that I got some information within three days. I grew up thinking that a certain man, Earl Rideaux, was my father because my mother thought so too. However in the dawn of this now passing decade, in 2001, my mother shared with me she didn’t really know who the father was because she was in between relationships. So it was either the living Earl Rideaux or the deceased Joe McCray.

Whoa. I didn’t take it too well. I went mute on the subject. I never discussed it further with her. Matter of fact, my pent up anger of “I don’t need him anyway” attitude served as my mental refuge…my closet…my cover.

Or even my excuse not to want to know the truth. Dang, why she didn’t tell me after all these years? I didn’t have a need to dwell on that. I moved on.

I thought I did.

Well in 2009 I could no longer suppress it. I was tired of sitting and getting watery eyes as I watched fathers with their sons. I was tired of acting like this wasn’t impacting me. I was tired of seeing a movie wherein a father unites with his son and tears flow inside of me.

Real men don’t cry, right? Real men don’t show hurt feelings, right? Man, please. That doesn’t strip you of your manhood. I had to learn that.

So, with a strong prayer and my mother’s permission I went public with my intentions right here on The article struck a nerve across all races, classes and creeds. I needed the support network just in case my “I don’t need him anyway” attitude got the best of me again.

Then it happened so fast.

On September 7, I found myself meeting the daughters of Earl Rideaux for the first time. They believed I was their long lost big brother and they had heard so much about me. I wanted to be their brother. Then a week later on September 13,<a href='

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