Blog
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68 Questions with Rhobb Jr.
Watch Rhobb Hunter Jr., Havana Mix Cigar Bar CoFounder located in Memphis, breeze through 68 Questions.
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Review on the Sony FX6
How lucky we are to receive this awesome camera as students at Full Sail University DCBS program students -
Running Through Memphis
”RUNNING MEMPHIS”
I’M TRAINING TO BE A GOODER FRIEND, GOODER DAD AND A GOODER SIGNIFICANT OTHER I CAN BERUNNING THROUGH MEMPHIS
Every week, I take one Memphis story—sometimes inspired by local headlines, sometimes by the streets I walk myself—and ask what it reveals about fatherhood, creativity, entrepreneurship, faith, and the people who call this city home.
This week, the story isn’t from the news.
It’s mine.
A few weeks ago, I completed a 52-mile ultramarathon through the city I love.
Around mile 37, nine hours into the run, Memphis became almost unrecognizable.
The city was quiet in a way that only Memphis can be before sunrise. Porch lights glowed against the darkness. The birds hadn’t started singing yet. The streets that usually carried so much noise had settled into stillness.
By then, my legs had stopped asking questions. They were on autopilot.
My mind, though, had finally gotten quiet enough to ask one.
What if I trained for my relationships the way I trained for this race?
What kind of friend would I become?
What kind of father?
What kind of significant other?
Would those relationships become strong enough to carry themselves through difficult seasons the way my body carried me through mile after mile?
As I looked around, I saw people running beside me. People I spend time with every week. We train together. We eat together. We laugh together. We fill up group chats. We take road trips. Somewhere along the way, we stopped becoming just runners and became a community.
Then I remembered a conversation with one of my children.
They said, “You took a trip with your friends… but you didn’t come see me.”
I answered without thinking.
“I planned that months ago.”
The phone got quiet.
Then I got quiet.
Because even while I was saying it, I knew it wasn’t a good answer.
The truth was, I had planned months ahead for my friends.
I hadn’t planned months ahead for my child.
That realization hurt more than mile 37 ever did.
Training for an ultramarathon forced me to confront something else.
My ego.
I’ve spent much of my life believing strength meant carrying everything alone. Asking for help felt like weakness.
An ultramarathon doesn’t care about your ego.
You need people.
You need someone handing you water.
Someone checking on you.
Someone reminding you to eat.
Someone encouraging you when your mind wants to quit before your body does.
Relationships work the same way.
They don’t survive because we love each other.
They survive because we keep training.
Preparing for this race taught me that if I wanted to reach the finish line, I had to put my ego on the shelf. I had to ask for help. I had to trust people enough to let them show up for me.
And maybe that’s what’s been missing in some of my relationships.
Ego has cost me friendships.
Ego has strained family relationships.
Sometimes the fear of failing a race made me more disciplined than the fear of failing the people I love.
That realization has stayed with me.
Because I don’t usually think about relationships the way I think about goals.
Maybe I should.
What if friendships required scheduled workouts?
What if fatherhood required recovery days?
What if forgiveness looked like physical therapy?
What if marriages needed hydration before they reached exhaustion?
What if showing up wasn’t something we hoped would happen?
What if it was something we trained for?
Lately, I’ve realized some of the most important parts of my life haven’t been getting enough training hours.
There have been moments when I’ve wanted to quit.
Marriage.
Fatherhood.
Friendships.
Then I think back to race day.
My running community showed up.
Not because they had to.
Because we’d spent months building something together.
Training wasn’t just preparing us for 52 miles.
It was preparing us for one another.
That realization left me with another hard question.
Most of the people who showed up for me weren’t family.
What does that say about me?
Maybe it says I’ve spent more time training my heart with my running community than I’ve spent training it with the people I love most.
If that’s true…
Then maybe it can change.
Maybe relationships don’t grow simply because time passes.
Maybe they grow because we keep putting in the miles.
This is Noah.
I’m still training to be a gooder friend, a gooder dad, and a gooder significant other.
Until next time…
I’ll holla.
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What’s a time you followed your gut and it turned out to be exactly right?
I had just graduated high school three months prior. I had no plans. Working a minimum wage job and a child on the way. I had no clue how I was going to manage all of this.
One day my friend came by, said he was heading to the Air Force Recruitment Office. My gut told me to catch a ride with him and see what happens. Took the Asvab at the Navy office down the walk way.
20 years later I retired from the Navy.
…and that choice is still paying dividends.
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still trying to…
Find my space.
Im in a weird space. I can’t figure out if I’m ahead of schedule, behind schedule or right on time. I really don’t know. When I look at my peers and others in my craft it seems like I’m ahead, then…all of a sudden it doesn’t.
A young traveler looks puzzled as she tries to find her train track at a busy station. -
How I Use Dead Space in This Scene to Tell Who/What Drake Senior is Dealing With
In this bench scene, I used dead space intentionally to show what words can’t. Drake Senior isn’t just sitting with his Ex-girl friend-Natalie; he’s sitting with everything that shaped him.
Using dead space to say what this character isn’t. The space around them has confined them, Specifically pointing to Drake Sr. representing the silence that has boxed him in.
Look at how much room is given to the trees and darkness behind him. That space represents
history, pride, disappointment, responsibility—the kind of things that build up over a lifetime. I framed them small in a big world on purpose. It shows that even in moments of connection, he’s still carrying more than he can say out loud.
Drake sitting alone off center showing his loneliness. Dead space in a frame isn’t empty. It’s pressure.
It’s unspoken thoughts. It’s everything a man like Drake Senior has to deal with and still show up anyway.
When your subject is off center you can show that the world is in distress. -
Black Fatherhood stories need More SILENCE!
Think about the Black fathers you remember in movies. Often, they are portrayed as loud, perpetuating the stereotype that a Black male father knows nothing but fear and struggle. This depiction reflects the past. Our new generation of Black fathers needs to embrace a different approach—being present, yet quiet. This silence doesn’t equate to weakness; rather, it signifies strength, understanding, and control. I still grapple with this, especially as I approach 52. I notice how it affects my relationships beyond my connection with my children. Sometimes, I feel like they love me out of obligation rather than genuine affection. While I know they care for me, it seems influenced by what they’ve learned in school, on TV, and during Father’s Day celebrations. Loving your father is often viewed as a default, woven into our daily lives as a fundamental aspect of being human. It’s similar to the American Dream—an ideal to aspire to and achieve. Loving your dad is what most people do. Or, at least, that’s what I believed. Unfortunately, Black fathers sometimes struggle to navigate this expectation, facing profound challenges and consequences as a result.
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Why ‘Two Dead Drakes’ Isn’t Really About Death
The death of the ego, along with the emotional death and the release from generational trauma, creates a profound opportunity for healing. What emerges from this transformative process is a nurturing space where reconciliation, love, and meaningful relationships can flourish… relationships filled with positivity and understanding.
Two Dead Drakes (Tone Piece)
This is a poignant scene that serves as a prequel to Drake Sr.’s journey to meet his son, Drake Jr. Struggling to muster both the courage and a compelling reason to reconnect, he remains oblique about the depth of their estrangement. In this moment, he shares a heartfelt conversation with his ex, Natalie, who gently encourages him to take the brave step of reaching out to his son.
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More self care
What details of your life could you pay more attention to?
A little bit more self care and being satisfied with where I am today.
