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  • Men healing – Round 2

    • June 26, 2025
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    • July 2, 2023

    Leaders going bad!

    It only takes one person to make a real stand and bring about change within a system. It has been,...
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    • February 6, 2024

    The Plastic Spoon!

    I know all about being born with a plastic spoon. A plastic spoon might be found in the trash because,...
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    Remembering my friend

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Wakime Hauser's Blog

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HAM AVE

About a decade ago while visiting my older sister in Greenwich Ct, I took…

Wakime Hauser May 8, 2023
Life Style

MAKE or BREAK

Habits can make or break a person’s life! We develop habits that are essential…

Wakime Hauser May 1, 2023
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DUSTY!

I was raised around dogs my entire life. I also was afraid of all…

Wakime Hauser April 23, 2023
Life Style

Monkey see, monkey do!

When I was a kid the adults would use the phrase “monkey see monkey…

Wakime Hauser April 17, 2023
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  • Uncategorized
  • May 25, 2024

Promise- introduction

This book emerges from the depths of a broken man’s soul. While I am still a “WORK IN PROGRESS,” each year finds me better than the last—a repeating cycle for well over a decade. Life broke me down, and I failed to recognize the cracks that could have been my escape, leaving me trapped in a cycle of excuses and blame. This destructive process became easy, though its outcomes were harsh. I wished for change rather than working for it. As a middle-aged man, I finally became self-aware of my position in life and the true reasons for it. The realization hit hard: it was all ME, ME, ME! I made a solemn PROMISE to myself—one that would change my life. This promise started with taking better care of myself. It began with a simple act: moving my body daily, first thing in the morning. This one small task transformed my world in countless ways. Now, over a decade later, I am ready to share my story with the world, believing that my journey can help others change their lives too. Although I am not done, I feel as though I have just begun. This book is a testament to,...
  • Uncategorized
  • June 15, 2024

The little loud ROCK 🪨

While in Vermont, my friend Alexx and I were driving up a gravel road toward our lodging.. The tranquility of the late afternoon view was abruptly interrupted when a high-pitched, agonizing screech emanated from our car. Almost instinctively, we knew something was wrong with the brakes. The car became increasingly annoying with the unsettling noise growing louder, we had no choice but to pull over and investigate. It was around 5 pm on a Friday evening, and the likelihood of finding a mechanic available at this hour was slim. We passed by a small auto repair shop that looked like it was closing for the day. Desperate, we decided to stop and ask for help. The shop’s employees, two white men who were clearly preparing to lock up, listened attentively as we explained our predicament. Despite the late hour and their apparent readiness to go home, these men did not hesitate. They could have easily turned us away, citing their closing time. Instead, they offered to take a look at our car. Their kindness and willingness to assist us were unexpected and helpful. The mechanics quickly got to work, first jacking up the car and then removing the tire to,...
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  • March 5, 2025

Walnut

&lt My grandmother’s house always puts a smile on my face. It was the most beautiful apartment in the world to me as a child, even though it was tucked inside the roughest projects in Mount Vernon, New York. Five towering ten-story brick buildings, stacked side by side, looming over a few tight acres of land. Off-street parking. A handful of basketball courts where the nets rarely lasted, and a playground that saw more fights than laughter some days. Outsiders feared these projects. They whispered about them like a forbidden place, a war zone. But for me, it was home. My second home. And I was never afraid. My grandmother’s apartment was a two-bedroom fortress with more locks than the U.S. Treasury. The sound of her unlocking the door was a ritual—a metallic symphony of bolts sliding, deadlocks clicking, chains rattling. And before you ever stepped inside, she cracked the door open just enough to peer through the chain, scanning to make sure you weren’t bringing unexpected company. That was normal to me. So normal that I never thought twice about it until I moved out of the city and realized not everyone lived behind layers of steel and suspicion.,...
  • Life Style
  • August 30, 2024

Men Matter

Growing up to this day I am faced with one consistent question. What is your nationality? I have been asked if I was Jamaican, Dominican, Mixed black and white, Puerto Rican and mixed Puerto Rican and black to name a few. I was always told that I was black. I believed this most of my young life. I recall in 5th or 6th grade doing a family tree. My father directed me to my grandfather and he gave me a history dating back to the early 1800’s. This information was accompanied with stories. I really felt like I knew my father’s side of the family. As a child we had family reunions and I would meet relatives from all over the United States. My great aunt’s and uncles would display so much pride in their heritage. My Grandfather was from the south and experienced racism in a different way then I did as a kid and adult. He was not fond of white folk, but always informed me that my family had white blood. It was not very clear to me the source of the white blood but I understood it as a woman had kids and may have even,...
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  • January 27, 2025

Birthday wish #52

A few weeks ago I proudly made it to age 52. Birthdays have always been a reflective time for me, a moment to pause and take stock of where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m heading. At 52 years old, my birthday wishes no longer resemble the ones I made as a child or even as a young man. The things I used to dream about seem like echoes of a different person—a person who didn’t yet understand the weight and beauty of self-discovery. Now, my wishes have evolved into something deeper, something more profound: I wish for me to be the best version of myself. When I was a kid, my birthday wishes were simple and sweet. I’d blow out the candles on my cake, grinning from ear to ear, and hope for the latest toys that caught my eye. Action figures, bikes, and the like were treasures that lit up my world. Life was about adventure back then, about the joy of play and the endless possibilities of what could be. My young self couldn’t have imagined the complexities and challenges that adulthood would bring, but that innocence was its own kind of magic. As I,...
Recent Posts
  • Men healing – Round 2

    • June 26, 2025
  • 2

    Shades of a Man (Podcast)

    • May 30, 2025
  • Growth takes time!

    • May 14, 2025
  • Men’s deserve to heal

    • April 25, 2025
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