Culpable: (adj) deserving blame or censure; blameworthy.
I was born in a hospital in Columbus, Ohio.
Honestly, the single incident didn’t do a whole lot for me except provide me life.
I was born again in a little church and got baptized.
It felt good for a while, but then I discovered that I had to keep going and scrounge out some purpose.
When I was eighteen years of age, I wrote my first musical number.
It felt mighty good to be creative. It was rewarding on that first composition and continues to be so. But it’s not the highlight of my life.
I saw sons born into my household and sons who came through my front door.
They were all amazing, but they didn’t provide the backbone and meaning for my journey.
I really became a human being the day I allowed myself to be culpable for my actions and I was not afraid to admit the wrongs I engineered.
Before that day, I avoided confrontations—even lied, cheated and rewrote history to prove I was not at fault.
This dodging of responsibility occasionally made me the “Bad Dad,” a mediocre workman, an insufficient artist, an unpredictable lover and a horrible Christian.
My life began when I was prepared to admit where I screwed up.
Any human who is not willing to be culpable for his or her own actions is not only obnoxious but dangerous to the whole tribe.