A Tale of Many Tales

Introduction: A Letter To My Unborn Child

Before I begin, I wish to say a few words to my unborn child, whose name I haven't even thought of yet let alone met their mother. But I wish to let you know that you will always and forever be thought of. At the age of 18, I've never stopped thinking about you. Thoughts of you swimming through my head, staying afloat at the front of my mind. Mark Anthony Oliver II, your father, loves you dearly. The generation of fatherless children has been passed down since the early 1900s, jogged through to my generation, and completely hauled ass through to your generation so I feel it quite necessary to inform you of my love and care right away. During my time, fatherless children tried to beat everybody to the punch coming up with these fatherless jokes. I had a best friend by the name of Frank Grayson III, and every time I would talk about my pops he would reply, "Wow, you have a father." I remembered responding to him, quite confused, saying, "Of course, I have a father. Don't you, doesn't everybody?" He would shake his head. He informed me that what he had was a 'dad' not a 'father. "Listen here, Mark," he would say. "A father, what you have, is someone that is there for their child, understanding that their child is their responsibility and they show their kids the right paths to take. And a dad, what I have, is someone who just created you." I first met Frank in high school but I can see that he faces issues with his father missing but even through all the ups and downs he still made it to a college preparatory high school that was difficult to get into with me. What really threw me off was that they named him after his dad, due to Frank being the third. I think it's needless to say that he won't be continuing the traditional name, no Frank Grayson IV, or then again maybe there will, we'll just have to find out if Frank does want to become a father instead of just a dad. I felt bad for him, deep down he was hurt but through all of the trouble, one thing that Frank never was down about was his mother. He would tell me different stories with him and his mom, tell me how he cared and appreciated her, and how she cared about him. I sat back and realized that Frank's mother was a single woman taking care of a teenage boy by herself. The strength of his mother amazes me because she played two roles at one time. I remember seeing his mother hitting Frank as a punishment for talking back and he never talked back again. This brings me to the point that women are so strong. If you're listening young lady that means you're strong or if your listening young man then never in your entire life forget it.

Now remember you're not Frank, you're not me, you're not anybody else. You are you, and just remember I love you and you will never leave my mind. I wish to become a great man and inspire and take responsibility for my own so that's why I'm telling you my stories to help you understand. I stay up every night writing information on my stories so you can catch glimpses of reality and how it affected me. I'm going to tell you a tale of many tales that shouldn't be told. Tales that many people don't even know about, but they are life learning experiences because I love you little one and I will always think about you. I would love to end this letter with a poem I wrote, named LIGHTHOUSE:

I'm surrounded by darkness but still, I shine,
With thoughts grinding in mind,
Of going out to get mine.

My light pierces the darkness in the hope of making things change for the better,
Whether its to brighten us up through stormy weather
Or bring us, the light and dark together.

And perhaps walk hand and hand
In the middle is where I stand,
To provide light,
Spite of the lack of sunlight,
I'm a structure and strong as a house, that provides rays that make things more than all right.

A house of light,
No, it's more so a lighthouse,
Providing inspiration and light
To more and more crowds.

Blast off,
Like never seen before,
Why is this young man to cry,
Dry your eyes
You're too young what you sad for.

This is the beginning of something new,
A rebirth,
Something like a newborn birth
A man leaving the earth
Both in the same hospital,
One enters on the delivery bed,
The other leaves on their death bed,
To the light they both head.
But they bloom
To a different platform,
An older man dying
While a child is being born.

And I've decided to be reborn,
And to change and to switch,
And to grow wiser as I go,
So I can home-run every pitch.

Indeed it takes a lot outta me,
I had to learn everything quickly,
A lot bad not just me around me so I had to inspire folks to get out quick

And these super-duper thoughts
Are expressed through super duper jots, on a paper,
From a mind surrounded by a black young man with some waves and a taper.

Keep in mind this man's a go-getter,
Go figure that;
He's tryna hold a bigger stack
Than a stapler,
When it comes to some green pieces of paper

All in all, I'm my father's son and my son's father,
I was inspired to inspire,
My father spotlighted success passed down through the wire,
And lit a fire big enough to view,
So that way I can inspire my son so he can enjoy the campfire too.

                                    Sincerely,
Mark Oliver II