Chris Master

Five minutes with the Lifetime melodrama du jour, and I recall a dear former friend. I love to watch these type shows, to see how the various male leads are portrayed.

Most of the time, the male is portrayed as emotionally weak, as compared to their mate. As far as I'm concerned, that is an acceptable starting point, and a far sight better than the way men represent in advertising.

There was one advertisement recently, that just left me baffled. It was a cartoon format; logic dictates the use of animation, when boundaries of reality must be stretched. The product was some type of cereal, I believe.

The ad is viewed from a 'fly-on-the wall' perspective, of a young family's kitchen. I don't recall what function the mother performed. The daughter was consuming the product, at the kitchen table. Her father (presumably!) was preparing for work.

Well this guy was one hapless schlep! His act of preparing to leave the house, to go to work, was met with utter disaster. I believe the denouement involved his necktie (hmmm!) getting caught in the toaster, having the dog chase the cat through the kitchen, snagging his necktie, dragging the schlep across the table, out the window, and straight onto the bumper of a passing delivery truck!

All the while, the little princess is oblivious to his presence, let alone his malady. As the door closes with a thud!, she half-turns and shrugs, as if to say, 'did I hear something?'

The last time I heard from Chris, was shortly after Tupac got ventilated. I remember, because he called me, at my 33rd St apartment, and I kept calling him Tupac, then Sixpac. We discussed his older brother; I attended his brother's wedding, and deeply admired the fella.

We discussed my future. We spent more time discussing my potential contributions to the world, than he spent even considering his own. I don't recall discussing Mariah, or her mother, Christelle. Mariah is the name of Christopher's first born. She was conceived, while I was Chris' reluctant housemate.

Before she was born, Christopher warned me, that, she better not have an enormous big toe, or war would be declared. When she was born, and he was satisfied that all her toes did indeed belong to him, he offered me the sacred duty of being her Godfather.

I remember when they christened her, while she was still a baby. We all met at a beautiful Catholic church, and conferred the endless spirit upon her soul. I always took my responsibilty very seriously, even though, at the time, I considered myself a fallen-away Christian.

The last time I saw Mariah, was at her fourth birthday party. I remember her mom, Christelle, had her hair pulled back out of her eyes, and I had never seen her look so grown up. I think she might have been a little nervous, too, because I remember her trepidation at going forward to play with the other children, at the Chuck E. Cheese.

Too bad for me, that I spent the entire time playing foosball. Had I known, that that would be the last time I would ever see her, well, then I probably would have spent a little more time talking to her.

Instead, about two months later, her father, Christopher, telephoned me for the last time. In my heart, I knew that I could not take one more second of abuse from him. Even at the expense of a relationship with my Goddaughter.

The abuse came 24/7. The abuse even came when he was too lazy to personally dish it out. He bought this insult box, that would spew out a pre-recorded string of epithets, whenever the user pressed the button. While watching TV, he would flick the switch, and laugh as the little box told me to "go to hell" or "fuck off."

Too bad for everybody. July 29th would have been her quinceanera. I am doubtful that her daddy is even still alive. He had been battling an addiction to crystal since high school. Christopher is another child of divorce, and he repeated that pattern on his family, by taking a mistress before his son was even born.

Compared to Chris, I had it easy. Christopher always came back to a very painful story, that I reference as a low point for him. When his parents were divorcing, the issue of child custody reared, and a novel approach was tried.

Instead of the judge deciding, based on the facts at hand, someone thought it would be a good idea, to ask the children, who they would prefer to live with.

The basic fault with that approach, is that children are not the world's decision makers. They aren't equipped to deal with nuance, as so many adult issues seem to be infused with.

He was made to sit in a courtroom, and address the judge. He was asked the question, and responded, that we would rather live with his mother. Nice! Saddle a child with an emotional debt that they cannot understand, let alone deal with.

Very professional, very classy move, judge.