.:: The StrongBrain Collective ::.

From the day that I was born, David W. ? a.k.a. ?Pop? ? Chapman gave me his unwavering love and diligent attention.

From the day he taught me to aim my urine stream into the toilet instead of just ?letting it go?, Pop Chapman always showed me the proper path.

From the day he handed me a Playboy and a box of tissues and said, ?Here?s your sex talk, son. Have at it,? Pop Chapman has always had my best interests at heart.

From the day that I went on my first high school camping trip post-introduction-to-beer and I was oddly warned of the dangers of hunting rabbits while intoxicated, Pop Chapman has always laid bare his concern for my well-being.

From the day that I decided to stop going to my manual labor construction job and nary a negative word was uttered, Pop Chapman has always respected my decisions.

From the day he convinced me that a sky blue Ford Taurus, since referred to as the ?Grandma-mobile? by Tiffany, was a cool car for a 21-year old bachelor on the prowl, Pop Chapman has always provided premium advice.

From the day that I was struggling in college and needed to take a break, Pop Chapman always demonstrated true support.

From the day that his father passed away and he requested that I scatter the ashes for reasons only he kept, Pop Chapman has always taught me selflessness.

Selflessness.

Pop allowed me to be the primary driver of a Saab Turbo as he struggled to get to work in a VW bug that had no heat. I was hitting 60 in 5.5 at the same time he couldn?t feel the steering wheel through two sets of mittens.

Selflessness.

Pop helped me stay in San Diego by paying my exorbitant rent four months in a row, explaining that he and mom had just refinanced the house and they had the money. Because of that, I was still in town to meet Julie, my girlfriend.

Selflessness.

--

While Pop Chapman?s attitude towards the family he loves has always remained unflappable, it can never be said that this amazing attribute was not at times, well, a tad abundant, euphemistically speaking. He?s really only ever wanted the best for his wife and children, but at what cost?!

When Kassie was in the third grade and the yearly science fair was approaching, she asked Pop for assistance in drawing the human eye. When she turned in an eye that could have appeared in science textbooks, the teacher had to call him and request that his future ?parental involvement? be less involved!

And I am the proud winner of consecutive Pinewood Racecar derbies. My cars absolutely annihilated the competition because I had a secret weapon: ?Pop Chapman?! When some noise was drifting up from the basement one morning ? much too early I might add ? and I asked Mom to reveal the source, she replied, ?Your father?s winning you another Derby championship.? Excellent!!

Don?t ask Tiffany about Halloween costumes because she?ll tell you about the time she needed a skull and crossbones drawn onto her arm, and quickly, too, as her entourage was waiting. When she went to Pop to ask, he refused to draw it. Refused, that is, until he headed to the basement to build a wooden stencil that could be used to paint a rendition that even Blackbeard could respect.

You know, in another life, this story could be tragic. A daughter that can?t draw an eyeball to exact specifications. A son that can?t build wooden racecars. And a second daughter that probably didn?t even get the Blackbeard reference.

However, that?s not nearly the point. Kassie has no desire to draw eyeballs. I can always learn to woodwork and build boxcar racers for my son. And Tiffany still probably doesn?t know who Blackbeard was, nor does she care.

Instead, without even trying ? or knowing, probably ? Pop Chapman revealed to us all how far he was willing to go and the energy he was willing to expend all in order to make us happy. That?s it. No more, no less. His great reward was not trophies or gold stars from Kassie?s third grade teacher; rather, it was -- and always has been -- the smile on all our faces.

And I don?t think I realized that until just now.

We are all successful, relatively well-adjusted as society describes that to be, in positive, life-affirming relationships, and we all care immensely for each other and our loved ones. Cheesy as it may sound, Julie considers my best qualities to be my generosity and empathy. I learned those from Pop Chapman, so thank you! I would have also enjoyed larger biceps and a more fluid jumpshot, but I?ll make do with what I got.

--

Pop Chapman is an idiosyncratic fellow, layered atop a bald-head of eccentricity. Sure, everyone farts and blames the dog. But he farts and blames the cat.

Everyone makes sloppy noises when they chew, but he hums, too, sometimes so profanely that people literally have to clear the room in order to maintain their sanity.

Everyone likes messing with people?s minds from time to time, like watering a flower and telling the rose it?s rain, but if you?ve ever witnessed Pop Chapman relentlessly wave at oncoming traffic to see if they wave back, you know what I mean. Mom and I would be embarrassed as Tiffany, Kassie and Pop would be dying of laughter just imagining the driver of the other car racking their brain to discern the identity of the friendly mustached fellow in the 1985 blue Volvo. In retrospect, it?s actually pretty damn funny. I?ll probably do that when I have kids, and I can?t decide if that?s endearing or scary as all hell.

Lastly, did you know Pop Chapman is famous around Tiverton? And powerful, too. He is solely responsible for the literal alteration of people?s sleep habits around town. No, he is not Carrie or Donnie Darko, he just drives so damn slow that people for miles around actually wake up 30 minutes earlier so that they can be guaranteed never to be caught behind the guy inexplicably driving 35 in a 40 zone on an 8-mile stretch of one-lane road with few passing opportunities. I had friends ask what the point of the speedometer in his truck going past 50 miles per hour. I cowered in shame and vowed to one day drive way too fast and reckless. I have kept that promise.

And so have Kassie and Tiffany, but they?re too scared to tell you, Pop Chapman! So I?m baring it all! I?m telling you that Kassie purchases furniture without your consent and then tells you it was a must buy item on clearance! I?m telling you that Mom is secretly astounded that you allowed her to purchase a vase at J.C. Penny because it wasn?t found at the dump or created in the basement. I?m telling you that Tiffany is dying to tell everyone how you can?t shop on your own and don?t even know your own pants size. Or she probably has told everyone, anyway. But did she mention that because you don?t know your own pants size that you mistakenly purchased a belt three sizes too big and every time you had to piss, the belt would flop into the urine stream? Mom says that she demanded to know why you were stealing furtive sniffs of your belt! Dude, that?s gross!

But if that?s the worst of the ?bare all?, then the Chapman family made out like bandits. We have a father and a husband that cares for himself, but only until someone requires his wisdom, or his sympathy, or his router, or his bandsaw, or his shoulder, or his humor, or his helping hand ? or just him, And then he ceases to think about himself and becomes entrenched in the loved one?s issue at hand, like a tick, sucking all the bad ju-ju away and leaving just the smiles he has always desired us to have in the first place.

That is selflessness. We all love you David W. ?Pop? Chapman. Here?s to 50 years ? and perhaps just a couple more so that you can hurry up and bequeath to me those tools in the basement?!