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LovePrints. My family. My life. My smile.



Leaving behind good. Actively enhancing the future. Leaving your good in others.

I never knew that I had “the look”. I did not understand my hands. I took my smile for granted. I never thought about dancing. I never chased a baseball. If fell naturally to me. I certainly had no idea why.

I have looked in the mirror every day of my life and never understood what I was seeing. Its like looking at a work of art as paint is added, rather than seeing the finished art in its glory. I did not understand the colors. I lived them, but I did not know why they were chosen. I noticed when the colors were splashed about. I was there for the mistakes, and present when great strokes met the canvas. I never understood the artist. I had no idea what his life was about. I did not know if he painted in the city, the country, or on a mountain top. I did not know his love, or his pain. I did not know what he looked like. I simply knew there was an artist with a work in progress. I did not know what the end piece would look like, but I knew that It would make more sense if I knew who he was.

I recently found the face of the artist. I can look into his eyes and see what he was working from. I can see some of his other masterful work, and I can understand his successes and failures. I can now see more of what he saw. I never will get to ask him what he saw or how he felt. I can imagine more clearly now. I recognize that now because I have his eyes.

I can now look at his work more completely. I can not change the strokes to canvas, but I can understand them. I can see his hands, and they are so much like mine. I can see the strength in them, and the gentle touch. I can see his hand movements and placement, and they are familiar. I can stare at his hands as I have often stared at mine. They are mine. They are my daughters. They are my grandsons. They are ours.

I will never see him move. That is a loss that may be a deep as any. I will never get to know his laugh, nor will I get to see his smile up close. But, I have the mirror, and that seems to explain a lot. I can imagine his movements through his other art, and it makes me smile just typing this. I got to hear stories of how the family moves, and it makes perfect sense. Naturally, they move like I do.

The smile in the mirror is important. He gave it to all his children. It is unique. It has power. It has light. It has purpose. I see it in their faces, and I see it in the mirror. I see comfort, balance, and confidence. I know the smile. I know the grin. Something good is coming.

I never chased baseball. I never pursued it. It just was in me. It called. It often shouted. It gave. It taught. It celebrated. It cheered. It never failed me. I never chased a baseball. It fell naturally to me. I understand that now. I was meant to catch it.

I stop in front of the mirror now. The art that I have seen before has more meaning, more value. The mirror has not changed. The information has. I know the artist. I know his work. I know why.

Now, I know why.

Posted in Weekly LovePrints
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LovePrints. Best friends. Roommates. Cousins.

LovePrints. Leaving an impact of love on another. Covering another in love.

My family. My life. My goodness.

Pardon me in advance. I am tying this while tears flow down my face. I want to honor this by doing this in one sitting and unedited. That’s how important this is.

Before I knew to ask questions about who I was or who my family was, I was left to trust my instincts and trust those people around me who I shared common likes and interests with. Some people were easily chosen. The fit was strong. The bond was deep. The love was natural.

In some neighborhoods, friends call one another “family”. Proximity in where we lived, shared life conditions, common interest in the things closest to us, and a general like of one another. “Cuz” or “brother” “sis” or “auntie”, often the names were used to notify themselves and others of their place in the priority of life, and always as a sign of love for the other.

In my case, I had a community of brothers, cousins, sisters, etc., all based on love. Love of  time spent, love of shared events, and love of where we were from and who we were with. I can roll out a list of brothers and cousins, both real and implied. I am blessed with some wonderful people in my life that I have shared great times, hard times, good times, and the best of times. Some are teammates, classmates, roommates, and life mates.

In one case, he was all of those things.

We met in elementary school, Charles Drew Elementary. We lived five streets away from each other, and immediately hit it off as friends. We ran the blacktop at free time, often found ourselves as teammates in little league after we were bused to different schools at age 9. We became teammates when I saw him walking home from baseball practice, and I asked myself why I wasn’t playing with him. The next season, I tried out for his team, and we began a 3 year run as teammates. We played football on the same teams, but basketball split us up. Even while going to different (rival) schools, we managed to stay connected. His mom, dad, and older brother would pick us up from practice some days, which led to meals at his house. Even when we reached junior and senior high school, we stayed connected. We would find ways to hang out with each other, often ending at parties at the houses of respective friends from both of our schools (sometimes ending in rivalry fights where sides had to be chosen, and we usually ended up in the middle as peace-brokers). We played against each other in baseball, which was unique in that not all people of color played baseball in high school. We even met on the football field as during a game between Wakefield and Washington-Lee. At Wakefield, he had already found his calling to serve and heal, was one of the trainers during games. I got injured on a kick return, and who came jogging out to check me out? HIM! “Oh, its just Dee, he will be okay” as he loudly laughed and jogged off the field without putting a hand on me. We went and had a soda post game and laughed about it all night. (Until one of the previously mentioned fights broke out)

Off to college, and after, we began our respective bachelors lives of dancing in clubs and attending every party within 30 miles. We decided since we spent so much time together that we might as well be roomies, so we grabbed a third musketeer and found a place that was affectionately known as the “Animal House”. We threw some ridiculous parties and believed that we had the best dance club in Northern Virginia in our living room every weekend.

We played ball together, we began our coaching careers together, and we both found love and moved on late in our 20’s. I got to stand next to him at his wedding. I moved to Charlotte to host a tv show, and at one point, he moved to Charlotte to work with me and some of my other life brothers. We had a great time in Carolina.

As my ancestry and family journey took place, an odd, wonderful thing happened. As ancestry works, it brings you all DNA relatives who have taken the test. Ancestry can also estimate how close of a relation they are, which side of the family they are on, and any shared relatives. This was vital to my investigation of who my father was. We were looking for close relatives on my father’s side.

BINGO! We got one! And thankfully, they were on Facebook. I scanned through his pictures (read FB stalk) and came across a name that I knew. A picture that I knew. It was my friends’ mom. I reached out, and thankfully, he was kind and open enough to give me information.

Weeks later, after several DNA tests, online searches, phone conversations, and snail mail, the Ancestry folks told me that my friend, the one who was a teammate, a running mate, a classmate, a party mate, a road dog, a business mate, a life mate, and forever friend, was my FIRST COUSIN.

LovePrints is leaving your loving imprint on those around you, those you care about. Loveprints is leaving someone covered in love. LovePrints is often leaving love in places that you did not even think needed it. Andre is one of the most valued and loved people in my entire existence. There is now another reason why.

My friend is a constant LovePrint in action. Almost 50-years. My father did that too.

Isn’t life funny?


Posted in Testimonials and Stories
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LovePrints. My name. My father. My family. My life.



Leaving more love behind than existed before you. Covering someone in love. Creating a thing of love for others. Being the add to for any situation. Cause elevation by your actions.

My name. My father. My family. My life.

That took a lot to type. This takes a lot to type. My eyes water at the very thought of typing this. Sharing this is mandatory, but difficult. It is a conversation about something so great and grand that I can’t possible capture its questions and answers in one sitting. I can’t possible tell the story of this and get to the truths and non-truths, so I am going to try and keep this simple. I am going to try and keep this plain. First of all, thank you to my wife. She made this happen. Thank you, ancestry and its investigators. Thank you, family.

My name is Pearson. It was given to me by my mother. Wrap your brain around that. A name was given to me. I accepted it as truth. I accepted it as everything. I would take this truth into the world as an absolute. I would be called by it for all of my days, and almost importantly, I answered to it. I would carry the Pearson name around as an introduction detail, a statement of who I was, a description of my history, and the crown of my actions on this planet. Pearson. It speaks volumes. It tells of origin and age, it tells of belonging and possession, it tells of all people that share that name.

What if I was wrong? What if my mother was wrong? What if I was given a name that did not belong to me? What if that name was a lie? What if that name simply wasn’t true? What if the name wasn’t mine?

What happened is a common tale in this land or ours. A name is given and accepted. None of us were around to choose our name. None of us had a say so. We were stuck with what was given. In some parts of our country, history has dictated that those names can never be right. They can never be true. They are given names rather than the actual name of your people. Your actual people. Those you share DNA with. Those who come from where you come from. Those who come from who you come from. Some of us have no way of knowing our name. This country made sure of that.

What if the truth is never told? What if secrets took priority over truth? What if science was ignored until it can’t be ignored any longer?

My father. He should give me his name. My mother should make sure of that. He should make sure of that. He made me. He chose for me to be here. None of us chose to be here. Someone else did that for us. I was not around to know why he didn’t. I was not around to know why he didn’t. I can be upset. I can be mad. I can be bitter. I choose to be present. I am here.

My family. They re a gift. They are a blessing. More common strands of life, more common strands of experiences and shared moments. More common strands of love wrapped up in love tied up with love. None of us chose one another. We just exist for each other whether we know it or not.

My life. Each day is an opportunity. Each day has knowledge. Each day has lessons. Each day feeds me. Each day informs, forms, and recreates me. Each thing purposeful. Each thing a victory. I am a puzzle of 365 pieces, 55 years long, each one its own picture but a part of a whole bigger picture.

I have spent time recently trying to answer questions that I did not know need answering. I have found out that I was missing people who I never knew existed. I have recognized holes in me that I had no idea existed that already had perfect pieces to put in place. I had love to give and get while believing that I had given and gotten all of the love I could possible manage. My heart has been filled my blood and love, even after I thought I had lived with a heart full of blood and love all along. I have found faces that match mine, smiles that match mine, hearts that beat like mine, and lives that were perfectly imperfect like mine. I have found souls like mine, and more importantly, love like mine.

I have been given more people to love. I have been given more people to love me. I have connected dots that were invisible to me, dots that evaded me, dots that were my dots, waiting to be seen, waiting to be connected. I have been blessed with good, beautiful people.

I recognized that my name is whatever I decide to answer to. I realized that my father created me. I accept that my life is so much better than I could ever dream, even when it was always better than I could ever dream. I am standing proudly in my space. I am loved. I am love. That’s who I am.

I have several families. Some chosen. Some by experience. Some by DNA. All by love. What an amazing world we live in.

I went to sleep one day with 3 brothers and 4 sisters. I woke up with more of each. I could not be any prouder. I now know why my name is, what my name is, who my father is, and what my life means.

I don’t know about you, but I am going to sit here and applaud the universe. I am going to thank God. I am going to praise this life of mine. I am going to celebrate this added love in my life. I am going to celebrate each day with them.

Call me whatever name you want. They call me family. They call me brother, uncle, and cousin. I will answer because its true, and its love.

Covered in love. That’s a LovePrint.

Posted in Weekly LovePrints
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