#PrayforTrey

Trey Erwin is a normal kid in high school. However his world has been flipped upside as he has been diagnosed with severe onset of cancer. The doctors said it could be as little as 3 months before his death.

However Trey decided to fight this thing. And fight it he is.

This short video is about Trey, his fight with cancer, his faith and his amazing ability to rally people around that “more” in life.

I had a random chance to be in this video. I don’t pray, but I will #prayfortrey.

Follow Trey on Twitter at @treyerwin13 

Also follow the talented Josh Maze on twitter as well, who made this touching video.

-B  

The Four

A Few days ago I released the following series of tweets. After sending out these tweets the idea of these four friendships have stayed with me.

It might sound juvenile to post this on twitter, to send out a plea to friendships that have been lost. It sounds a bit desperate if we all want to be honest. However it is completely and utterly true. 

I name these friendships simply The Four. They are like great characters in my life story. They take up entire chapters of my life. These characters have formed some of the most formative years of my life. However also they each have been the source of some of my darkest wounds.

Each one of The Four are completely different, however have a simliar theme to the friendship. One is a friend from the early stages of my life, one is through my early adulthood and even two are from my near past. Each mark a very significant turn in my life. 

At one point or another I was glued to the side of each. We spent every waking moment with each other. Sleep overs, concerts, games, parties, events, movies.. you name it I was with these people. I called them my best friends. We talked about a crazy future. We talked about being each other weddings. We talked about living in the same neighborhoods.

However somewhere along the lines of life things changed. The Four, who at different points of my life were rocks, found their way away from my life. Some I pushed away. Some broke the friendships. Others fell away because of the natural disaster of life. 

Thinking back, many things went through my head. I wondered if it was all my fault. I put pressure on myself to question my intentions with each friendship. I wonder where it went all wrong.

In this world of social media, I find myself to the Four’s Facebooks wondering what could of been. I find myself seeing pictures of graduations, concerts and weddings that I should have been in attendance. My heart aches as each event feels robbed from my mind. 

My young mind seemed to think, as many do, that we were meant to stick by our sides forever.

Sometimes in life we want it to be that simple. We want it to be like a sitcom. We want to find our posse and remain with them forever. However life isn’t so easy. People move schools. People fall in love with others. People fight. People lose friendships.

I may be too much of an idealist. Maybe I hold onto things too long. Maybe I think life is too hard on us at times, and wish it were easier. But I still think of those friends everyday. I wish it was different and we were still close.

I think the Four will always be in my thoughts and my mind. Even as I write this, one texted me, which makes me smile every time.

The Four shaped me and I will never regret the fights, laughs, struggles and joy of the friendships. And I will continue looking for friends just like them.    

Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is today. A day to celebrate Mothers and what they bring to life. You know you, the day you wear your mom’s favorite shirt, even if it looks hideous on you, or eat your veggies with a smile on your face, because well, your mother would love it. The day where your mom is right, no matter how wrong she is. The excuse “It is Mother’s Day” trumps all when it comes to a Mom’s Day argument.

Since it is Mother’s day I thought I would write a bit about my mom. Now my mom seems to be just like a normal mom. She makes me meals from time to time. Says I love you before I go to bed, even gets on me when I don’t check in at night (I am 24 years old so I think my mom has missed the last 8 years when I grew up. To her credit, I still live under her house and raid her fridge at a given notice.) However, all these things are a big rouse to the greater world.

My mom is one of a kind. She is the weirdest/funniest/bubbliest/hardest working/stubborn/crazy mom ever. And I love every second of it. I will share a few stories that bring this all together, don’t you worry. 

I remember when I was maybe 10 or 11 and my mom challenged me to a football match in the back yard. At the time I thought I was the once great running back Terrell Davis of the Denver Broncos so I was ready for the challenge. As we went outside she threw the ball to me and I ran toward her, ready to pull my best Madden move on her. I planted my foot like I saw on TV and spun, however as I did my mom’s finger got caught in my jersey. I heard a yelp out of my mom and realize this was not good. I had broken my mom’s finger. Over the next few weeks she wore are splint around her finger to help it heal. To this day, if you talk about broken bones my mom will proudly say, “I would have never broken a bone in my body if it was not for my son!” Talk about holding something over one’s head. 

Another story. My mom used to work for the church we attended in Memphis. She was great at her job, but one small problem… it was a job. So when summer rolled around I had nothing to do but cause trouble. I think my mom pictured me stealing a motocycle and picking up hookers at age 13 because what she did to solve her problem I will never forget. She decided to sign me up for a summer day care program called Sportscare. Now that is all good and well until I started my summer adventure at Sportscare. I walked in and was by far was the oldest camper there that summer. What made it worse? The kids who were there for free as pre-counselors were kids my age at my school. So I spent on incredibly embarrassing summer being bossed around by kids at my school like I was the other kids who maxed out at age 10. I still hate that place.

One a bit close to the present. I recently cut my hair. Its not a huge deal I suppose, but I always remember my mom’s plea of me cutting my hair in high school. Let me explain. I was like every kid in high school and let my hair grow and grow and grow and grow to an unkempt monster. My mom would always want me to have a short cut that look a bit more put together, as most moms do. So recently I cut my hair so it will look nice and slick down for a professional feel, or just make me look like I shower more that once a week. My mom’s response to the haircut? “I wish it was longer and a little messy!” There are moms for you ladies and gentlemen.

My mom and I have not always seen eye to eye. To be honest we have different views on everything from politics to faith to HGTV programs. We may not totally agree on the stance of tattoos, alcohol or fashion, but that will never damage our relationships.

Throughout the millions of things my mom and I disagree on, there is one thing that no one can take away. That is that she is my mom and I am her son. She fought like hell to show strength through divorce. She broke herself physically, mentally and spiritually to make sure her children had every chance to succeed. She may beat herself up for not being stricter or cooler but my mom is one hell of a mom.

She taught both my sister and I how to be independent and world changers. She let us be us and tried to pont us in the right direction. And when we decided to ignore her and get burned… she was right there to give us a hug and help us through the mistakes. My mother has been a rock for which has allowed me to become a man of great faith and ambition. The craving to see a new world was built on the love of my mother. I will be forever grateful for that.   

So Mother’s day is a day of rejoicing a beautiful and powerful woman in my life.

For many today is a hard day. People who have lost their mothers way too soon to death, abandonment or an array of other reasons. There is the saying “Nothing can break a Mothers bond.” I believe that.  So, as much as we want it to be, today is not just another Sunday. It is a day to mourn your mom. It is a day to remember you mom. It is a day to celebrate your mom. 

Have a great Mother’s Day

ps. Mom I love you! And I am glad you are my number 1 fan. 

-Ben

Caine’s Arcade

Meet Caine. Caine is a 9 year old who loves arcades. He loves arcades so much that he decided to create one with cardboard boxes and imagination. Caine is someone who created something beautiful, and I think we all can do that too. I watched this video and cried. 

Do something new.

-b

Friendship

Friends. Friends are a part of all of our lives. Friends are there in times of joy, times of sadness and times of dispair. Some people seem to make friends walking into Target while others have a small core of friends. 

I like to think of myself as a person with a solid group of friends. I tend to laugh at my counsel of friends who I call in times of need, because honestly, they are all over the map. 

Like this one friend, Brett, who is 36, has three kids but still carves out time to grab a beer with me as much as possible. We like to drive around like 16 year old punks and listening to music and catching a flick at the 2 dollar discount theater. He bugs me ‘cause I am single… and I bug him ‘cause he is old. 

I have this other friend, named Sarah, who crashed into my house in the 6th grade and forced herself into my life, however to this day we remain close. We have seen zits, boyfriends, girlfriends, high school, fights, breakups, college and even a marriage and a kid pop out and yet we still talk as if its those early middle school days.

Then my best friend from high school, Josh, who actually… we never really hung out in high school. One of the first adventures of our friendship was on graduation night and being creepy older kids playing laser tage. To this day, whenever we meet up its like a day has not passed. 

My friend Diana has been around, well it seems like forever. I took her under my wing in high school and she literally never left my side till I had to kick her out on her own. Diana is younger than me but has taught me things well past her age. She is wise and caring, gracious and forgiving. She is that friend whom I have hated/loved/adored/missed throughout my life, and I am grateful her her lasting friendship. She can probably tell you what I am thinking… without even seeing me. I have seen her grow up and become a beautiful wife and even more beautiful soul. Friends like that don’t grow on trees. 

I would not have survived four and a half years of college without my friend Patrick. He saw me at my highs, lows and everything between. He was the friend who let me sleep off heartbreaks of girls and the times I had a little too much to drink. He was the hometown kid in Abilene; showing this weird Tennessean the ropes of a small town in Texas. He has stood by my side and will always have my back. I believe in him when he doesn’t believe in himself, and he believes in me when I don’t believe in myself. A friendship that will last the strains of this hard life. 

Then there are my friends like William. I have known William for just about 4 months, however his impact on my life is not measurable. Even though our friendship is short in the terms of time, it is deep rooted and well established.  

Just looking at friendships they come in all shapes and sizes. Young or old. Long time friends or new found friends. I have not mentioned friendships that have been lost. Friends whom I have broken ties with, or lost along the journey of this old cold road that we call life. I still have thoughts of those friendships. I take personally the friendships that are no longer there, and wonder if they ever think of me. I wonder if they long to be friends again. 

Friendship is a powerful thing. I mean, these crazy complex relationships are really the support beams of life. They get us through our struggles, and remind us at our victories.

Do not forget the power of friendships. Friends will come and go. It’s life and for some reason that is how it works. But the continual love of friendship will bring us all close to living a life worth… well, living. 

I am blessed to have beautiful people in my life who have shaped me into the man I am. I hope they continue to mold me into someone who will continue to impact the world. I need them to.

So tell your friends you love them as much as you can. Remember to smile and give them hugs, and be the best friend that you can be. You never know how your friendship will mold people to reach the unexpected tomorrow. 

-B

Mission 29.2

 I remember vividly in 8th grade being in gym class and the teacher telling us that it was time for our Physical Fitness Test. This included the Dreaded Mile Run, four laps around the outside field would complete one mile. The goal was simple: an 8-minute mile. 

As the whole class started off as a big group of cattle, you had those few that shot off from the rest of the class like a bullet. Then there were others who bunched together as a clan that would work together to get through the torture of the event. Then there where those few who huffed and puffed and were lightyears behind everyone else.

You guessed it, that is where your’s truly would find himself… every time.

I remember vividly the burning feeling in my chest as made my way around half way of my first lap. I remember the second lap not seeming as bad, and thinking I was almost at the end. I remember the third lap was like needle being shoved in my calves, chest and lungs. I remember the fourth lap thinking to myself that I was going to die right then and there. Yes ladies and gentlemen, that was ONE MILE. 

Fast forward some ten years later as I sat at my first marathon. Several of my friend would begin a 26.21875 miles adventure. As I watched my friends pass the finish lines I was taken back to the Dread Mile of 8th grade. I remembered the pain in the chest, and the horrible feelings in my legs. Then I tried to imagined that times 26, and I almost collapsed. But my friend’s joy and pride for completing such a magnificent accomplishment was seeping from their pores (along with liters of sweat). I remember being so proud of them.

Many of my friends love the feeling of running. They run and run and run. It is a release to them. They run 5k, 10k or marathons just for the feeling of athletic accomplishment. I know friends who run 10-15 a year. My friend Justin even ran the Boston Marathon he loved running so long. I remember talking to him about his craziness for running and he just said, “It puts me in a different place, its my getaway.” 

Running does this for people. But what if it could do more? 

In 2008, an adventurous American named Martha Walker found herself in Ouanaminthe, Haiti working with local orphans in the area. Seeing the children of Haiti’s lack to an education first hand Walker had to do something about it. She knew that the way these kids would find a way out of the situations would start with a good education. 

But she did not know how to help? But she did know one thing, she loved to run. So she organized the first every marathon in Quanaminthe with the proceeds going to help education in the city. Using the unique distance of 29.2 the marathon was so successful that it has become an annual event. Over the two races that have been held, over 27,000 dollars have been raise for education needs of Haiti. 

Now a non-profit, Mission 29.2 organizes these unique 29.2 mile races to help developing countries with educational material. MIssion 29.3 puts in this way: “To support the educational needs of children within developing communities around the world, using organized 29.2-mile runs to inspire personal achievement and increase community awareness for the cause.”

So maybe you like to run like many of my friends. Maybe it is a release for you. Maybe it is a physical accomplishment. Maybe its a way to shed some pounds. Or maybe its your passion. If you are a runner looking to make a difference, Mission 29.2 is made for you. There are lots of ways to get involved. One: like them of facebook here. Two: sign up for one of their runs for education. Three: tell others about the need for education around the world. 

And if you are like me and relate to the guy in this video, dust off your tennis shoes and go for a good jog, and get ready for a 29.2 mission to get kids the education they desperately need. 

Be sure to check out their website at www.mission292.com

-B

White Power(less)

I am as white as people come. I fit the stereotype of white person perfectly. I grew up in a middle class American home. I lived in the beloved suburbs and attended a nice public high school (although at times I claim it was the hood, it was no where near such a claim). My parents both have solid jobs and a well income. I drink Starbucks. I shop at Target. I enjoy hip hop, but have absolutely no rhythm or flow. I wear a new pair of clean clothes most days. 

But the seeds are much deeper than that. My family name, Fulfer, dates back to England in which it means “muddy bridge.” My name dates back to the Middle Ages, to the England of kingdoms. Kingdoms that ruled over peasants and enslaved many others across their lands (watch Game of Thrones if you have not yet, I pictured my family being like those sweet clans). 

I have not researched it but I am sure my family’s history dates all the way back to the Caucasian Mountains where white people were formed. I am that white. 

And now I found myself being a white American; the wealthiest group of people in the wealthiest country in the world. 

In the shortest amount of words I want to walk you through where I have come from. Where “my people” have come from. Whites have been the cause of some of the most horrible things in human history. From Roman rule, where the oppression of groups across all of Europe, throughout North Africa and even into West Asia, throughout the Christainity Holy Wars, in which white western powers killed thousands in the name of God and power, white people have changed the course of history. 

As powers grew in the 1550s, a nearly 400 year oppression throughout the world in what is known as Colonialism. Powers such a France, Belgium and most importantly to this story, England began stretching across the globe grabbing other countries to abuse their resources, lands and people for selfish reasons. Excuses have been passed down such as evangelism, humanitarianism, and democracy, however the real reason is money, power and control. 

Then as America was formed, we built this nation on the backs of slaves. We took every advantage of Native Americans and the land that we inhabited. We called great victories for freedom without thinking those who we oppressed. And we built a power through this oppression.

I saw white skinned people, just like me, ban together in Germany and kill over 6 million Jews, naming themselves the “Saviors of the White Race.”

We have called this the “Land of the Free” however we oppressed those who did not fall in the lines of whites. At various times we, the powerful white Americans, pushed away black people, Japanese people, Middle Eastern people and Latino people. However our arrogance is not just for race. We have been brutal against gays, Islamic neighbors, Jews citizens and anyone who just didn’t act like us. I have seen white people place white hoods over their heads and use violence to save the white man. I have seen white people create corporations that take advantage of everyday people. I have seen the greed of white America to keep everything for ourselves and not help others who are in need. I have seen white people say “Those people do not deserve what we have.” 

Looking back through the history of white people I can see how brutal we have been. And I am here to take full responsibility. 

I want to apologize to those abused. I am sorry for taking advantage of those in need for personal gain. I am sorry for those affected by the greed throughout history. I am deeply pained to be part of the problem. I am so sorry for those useless deaths in the name of power, greed and control. I am sorry for turning our backs on other humans.

Now I also want to say that I am here trying to change things. I am a white man who wants to care about others. I am a white person who does not claim to those of hate. I am trying to help, not be a part of the problem.

I will fail. I will screw up in my attempt for justice and peace. But I will never stop trying to change how white people act. I will be a voice for change in a history littered of hate. I will be the change. 

Thank you. 

Ben

Kony 2012

I have stayed away from speaking or writing about Kony 2012 for the past month. Since i have not been writing publicly, discussions among my friends have continued on the bold step made by Invisible Children (IC). 

For those who have not heard about Kony 2012 let me give you a brief summary. On March 5th, Invisible Children, an organization spawn by three American adventure filmmakers, released a video in the attempt to make Joseph Kony, a warlord of the Lords Resistance Army, so famous that he would be brought to justice. 

In the world of social media, this 30 minute short film exploded across the world. In two weeks 100 million people saw the film, began to talk about the film, and critique the film. I was one of those 100 million. The film is shocking, riveting and simple. 

Over the last month much debate has broke about Kony 2012. Some good. Some bad. I believe all fair. I will write on what I believe on the matter. This is my opinion. I firmly believe that there are no clear cut right or wrong answers.

The first time I sat down and examined the film for myself, I was like many Americans. My passions were aroused. I wanted to band together and simply stop the murder Joseph Kony. I watch as friends of friends posted on their facebook/twitter/email/tumblr/journals/foreheads a link to the film. The response was staggering. I was shocked to see people who did not even know what it was tweeting #Kony2012. I was shocked that such a short film could cause an explosion in what is perceived the most selfish nation in the world. I was proud of my underbelly American culture. I was proud of Invisible. 

As the weeks past the critics came out. Many of them criticizes Invisible Children’s finances, or vowed that IC was out for fame. I shook those statements off for what they are. 

Until I ran across this beautifully written article by Teju Cole. In the article he touched on the White Savior Industry Complex. In a way, Cole had powerful statements to social justice causes in America. He spoke from a place where Americans to use charity as a way to appease a sense of heroism. He spoke of our complex to save, without thinking of those we are attempting to save. He speaks for those humans, just like Americans, for their intelligence and work. He speaks about how America seems to care about doing justice yet we are embraced in an injustice war.

And I found myself agreeing with Cole.

I will touch on in the coming days of my view of being a white American, however I want to say Cole is right. We need to be there for the people of the world, not just because we can, or to be the hero; but because they are humans, as we are humans. Just as we are beautifully made, so are they. Many times they are even better people than myself. 

However, I know the heart of IC. They are well aware that the issue of Joseph Kony and the LRA is vastly complex. The issue cannot be put down in 20-30 minutes. But this is step one of hundreds to see peace in the region. To mobilize millions to bring one small piece of the puzzle to justice is huge accomplishment.

I am not a fan America violence to end this. I am a fan of justice. However the realist in me say that humans are flawed. And somehow we will mess this up. But when does that have to stop us from see justice. 

Being a white American, with ancestors that go back to England during an oppressive time its hard for me to stomach that I have gotten all the breaks. That is why I admire Kony 2012. That is why I support Kony2012. Because in the end, it breaks my selfishness and allows me to get out of my palace. It allows me to realize the world isn’t made for me and me alone. 

The reason I support Kony 2012 is because friends of my who could not give a shit about Africans now care. 

And I hope that amazing people like Teju Cole push me to be better, and better and better. And I hope he pushes Kony 2012 and the amazing people at Invisible Children to adapt to the concerns of the people of the Great Lakes Region. 

Because at the end of the day, it is their freedom, their lives that we are working for.

Thank you.

-B

Humbled.

My friend text me the other day asking why there is a lack of posts lately. I had no great reason. To be completely truthful I just lost my inspiration. 

My writing for so long was about being proud to do what you love. I was writing from a part of my soul. I was writing about people using their passions to change the world. I was writing about the world being small and our ability to impact it with our talents.

However I was began to be wrapped up in myself. I began to doubt my talents and the effect on the world I was making. I began to lose my humility, and began to think I was better, or had the answers. I was trying to simplify life. I was trying to make life easy. 

Then my life hit a road block. I think we all have these moments. Something that in the long run is a small speed bump, but we treat it like Mt. Kilimanjaro in our lives. My road block put me on my ass.

Maybe it was I was 24 living with my parents. Maybe it was that I was unemployed and I could not support myself. Maybe it was because I was living in a city with very few friends. Maybe it was feeling like all my other friends were making the impact I longed to do. Maybe it was self hate towards how lazy I was becoming. Maybe it was the fact that I cannot run two weeks in a row. 

Whatever it may be I lost my inspiration. I mean, I didn’t just lose my inspiration, but it fell through the fucking floor. Social justice movements I used to emerse in myself in made me roll my eyes. Peace seemed like a thing for dreams. Love seemed like magic. 

I climbed into a hole and lost myself. 

I realized in that moment that the things I have been doing were for me. I was being selfish about my status and what social justice did for me. 

What I needed to be was humbled. Humbled that I lived a life with very few needs. I live in a life with, and there are those who live life without. I began to look back on my time in Africa and remembering the faces of those who lived without. My friend Bou in Togo, who always walked around with a smile. Or my friend in downtown Memphis, Michael Sylvester Tucker, who is a homeless man that lives with the hope of a better tomorrow. I think of families getting by on what I make in a week. I think of the love of my parents for me. I think of friends who have been in my life. I think of friends who have lost parents/sisters/fathers/brothers, and how I have all of mine. 

My life is a life full of blessings and hope. I longed to be humbled. Not to be the rockstar social justice kid. Not be the top of the top. Not be number 1 but be number 101. 

My walk to humility is still going. However I am ready to pick up the pen (or tickle the keyboard) again. I am ready to share some of the journeys I have in my life. 

If you are reading this I am very honored to have you walking along with me. You all have been given some talents. Trust me, I don’t know mine still, but continue to search for what makes you, because that is enough. 

humbly.

-b

Wonder If She is Thinking of Me

I wonder about my mystery girl a bit

I wonder if I have seen her face. I have wonder if I have said her name. I wonder if I already know her or If she is yet to be found. I wonder if I have seen her in passing.

Will she be kind? Will she love me for me? Will it be love at first sight? 

Will I be man enough to approach her? Will I be man enough to say, “I love you.” 

Will I take her breath away? Will she love being around me? I wonder her thoughts on politics, development and pizza.

I wonder what she smells like. I wonder if her kiss beats other kisses. I wonder if our hands fit together perfectly. 

I wonder what her favorite song is. I wonder what color she wears to make herself feel pretty. I wonder if she smokes, and I wonder if she will wear dresses around the house.

I wonder if she will think I am funny. I want to know what flowers will make her happy, or how much chocolate I have to buy her to let me back in the house.

I wonder if she will pull my butt out of bed to work out, or just let me make her breakfast in bed? Or if she even likes breakfast. 

Will give her foot rubs and brush her hair? 

I wonder how she loves.

I want to know the song we will decide on to dance to on our wedding. I wonder what she will be wearing the first time I lay eyes on her.

I wonder if I will love her till I die. I wonder if we will have kids or just live in a downtown loft. I wonder if I will roll my eyes with the shit she buys and laugh when she asked me if she looks fat. 

Will she be like my mom?

Will I be like my dad? 

 I wonder what she is doing right now, maybe playing Scramble… who knows? Wherever my girl is, I wonder if she is dreaming of a better tomorrow. 

Wherever she is I wonder if she is thinking of me. I bet she is. I bet she is incredible and will make this world better, make her better and make me better. I can’t wait to meet you mystery girl. And I will find you, when the time comes.

-b