If you have to knock somebody down...Chance and the Bully

Sorry I've been gone for a while...

Each member of my family; my wife, my daughters, and my son, are my heroes. Each of them have done things so out of the ordinary, and/or beyond the call of duty, that they continually lift my spirits...and give me stories to tell.

The world would be a better place if we never had to fight to protect ourselves or those who can't defend themselves...of course, the world would be a better place if I looked like Denzel Washington or Brad Pitt and had Bill Gates' money...but that's not happening either. We are required to fight sometimes...which brings me to my story...

My son Chance is a wonderful young man. Great son, brother, friend, you name it. He's the best. Good natured and kind...he has always looked out for others. This story goes back to when Chance was in kindergarten.

Chance would come home every day from school and go straight to the bathroom...where he would pee for about five minutes. (the boy has my bladder) Cherish and I got concerned when he told us he couldn't go at school. We took him to a urologist, but he checked out fine. One day, a few weeks later, Chance finally told me why he couldn't go at school. There was a boy in his class who waited in the bathroom for the other boys. He was literally twice their size, and would push, hit, or kick them if they went in.

I went to the school to meet with the Principal. I was shocked to find out that the Principal was completely aware of the problem...and so was the entire staff. This boy (who was two or three years older than the others in the class) had also assaulted the teacher, kicking her in the stomach while she was pregnant. I couldn't believe he was still in the school.

The mother apparently knew how to "play the system." She threatened lawsuits at every turn. The boy had already been kicked out of more than one school, and now the district had backed down. He was supposed to be supervised by an adult attendant at all times, but the mother protested...and won. Now, everyone was afraid of this boy.

I told the principal that if the district wouldn't let him do his job, I would take care of the problem myself...and, to quell his fears, I didn't mean going after this boy myself. I told him that I was going to teach Chance how to take care of himself...and that I better not hear one word about it if Chance fought back.

Chance and I went for a walk that night. I told him about a circumstance in my own life growing up...and the advice my father had given me.

Walk away from any fight you can...but if the other person won't let you walk away...then you knock them on their ass...and don't let them get up. Every time they try to get back up...you knock them down again.

Chance looked at me a little dubiously. This boy was literally twice his size. Chance had seen the boy kick and hit his teacher...two other teachers...and the principal...all with impunity.

But I was his Dad...and I told him he could do it.

There was quite a commotion at school the next day when I went to pick Chance up. A group of boys from Chance's class ran to meet me at the door.

Chance kicked his ass, Mr. Blake...Chance really laid him out...Chance beat him up good...

The boys were very excited, to say the least. Chance came walking out of the Principal's office a minute later...followed by the boy and his parents. Obviously, the boy's parents had been called...and I hadn't. I wasn't sure what to make out of that. The Principal brought Chance over to me.

Is Chance in trouble?

No. Not at all...

Good.

I don't think I've ever seen a more perplexed, confused look on some one's face in my whole life, than was on the face of that boy. He kept staring back at Chance as his parents were dragging him out of the school, like Chance was an alien with eight eyes, five legs...and purple. Just bewildered.

I asked Chance what happened...

I just did what you told me to daddy...am I in trouble?

Not one bit stud...not one bit.

The principal called me later that afternoon. This was the story he gathered from the boys who were in the bathroom.

Afternoon recess. All of the boys are supposed to wash their hands before going back to class. All of them are outside of the bathroom...because they know the bully is waiting for them inside. No one moves. Finally, Chance hunkers down his shoulders and marches in. The rest of the boys follow...waiting to see Chance get beat up.

Chance goes to the sink and starts to wash. The bully comes over and taunts him. Chance just keeps washing. The bully pushes him.

Don't do that again.

Oh yeah? What you gonna do about it?

Don't do it.

The bully laughs as he pushes Chance away from the sink. Chance takes both hands, steps forward, and puts them square in the bully's chest...just like I taught him. The bully goes down...a surprised look on his face. He starts to get up...and Chance knocks him down again. Apparently, from all of the boys' stories, this happened at least five or six times. Finally, the bully just sat there...stupefied.

One of the boys had run to the Principal's office when it all started. The principal told me he ran as fast as he could to get there, fearing for Chance's safety. He was pleasantly surprised to find Chance standing over the bully...yelling at him to try and get up again.

The bully never came back to the school. The parents transferred him to another district. I felt bad for the kid...but not bad enough to have my son be afraid to go to school.

Sometimes, your only choice is between being intimidated...and being the intimidator. Not a hard choice, as far as I'm concerned...especially for my wife and children.

I'd like to tell you that Chance became a hero at school after that...but that's not how life works. All of those boys, many of whom were bigger than Chance, were embarrassed to see someone else take a stand. You see, as long as no one does...then no one is really a coward...but as soon as someone stands up for what is right...the majority who have stood back have no excuse. The telling moment was when the bully pushed Chance...and no one came to Chance's aide. There were at least fifteen other boys watching. Three of the boys were almost as big as the bully. Any group of three or four of the boys could have put a stop to it...but, just like adults, no one wanted to risk getting hurt.

Chance has taken other stands since then that have cost him...cost him a lot. He has stood up for a friend...and then have his teacher try and screw him over...and the friend turn his back on him.

Still...he always tries to do what is right...knowing that it will probably cost him. That is the truest test of courage...and character.

A father could never ask for a better son...

Hopes and Dreams

There are many things that we hope and dream about as we grow up...

What we would like to do...where we would like to live...who we would like to marry...

I was lucky enough to marry the woman of my dreams...

I'm still working at what I want to do, and hoping for a good outcome...

I still dream of living in Hawaii someday soon...

But...my wife and I share our ultimate dreams together...

And that is for our children...

That they may be happy...and have the opportunity to chase their dreams...

Our daughter Lacy is about to finish her first year of college at AMDA(see my links)...

She has done so well, that she has earned additional scholarships for next year...

Most importantly to her mother and I, however...

She is becoming...

She is becoming all that she has hoped to be...

But...

She has always been what every parent dreams of...

The best daughter in the world...

She comes home next week...

And I can't wait to see her...

Tu Padre Te Amo Bene Sai...Bene Sai...

The maze of memories...CLINT WALKER and CHEYENNE

I was flipping the channels a few weeks back and heard the start of this...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4h9rUNf64cw

Suddenly I was a very young boy, sneaking out of my bed to do something I knew was very, very wrong.

We bought our first "Big" TV in 1960 when I was four. The old TV was put in my bedroom, with one caveat: don't watch it after bedtime.

I still remember that old TV set. It was about four feet tall and three feet wide. The screen was maybe nine inches or so across. There must have been a dozen knobs across the front, but the only ones that I think worked were off/on-volume and the vertical/horizontal controls. The small antenna was on top, and you had to turn it to try and get a picture. I needed a small stool to reach it.

My bedtime was seven o'clock back then. All of the good shows started after that, of course...so I would wait...as patiently as a four year old can, for my parents to think I was asleep. Then I would pull the small foot stool out from under my bed(carefully hidden behind a stuffed animal), turn the TV on, and adjust the antenna to get the best picture I could. It was magic.

I had a few shows that I loved. Disney, of course. The Flintstones. Alfred Hitchcock(yes, I've always been bent). Red Skelton. Bonanza. Have Gun Will Travel( Richard Boone was soooooo cool...and talk about another iconic theme song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZzY6KZuLUo ) Maverick( another great theme song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_DQC3iaWbg&feature=related )And of course, Cheyenne.

Clint Walker brought something unique to the screen...and to a four year old boy. He was larger than life(6,6" tall with a 46" chest and a 32" waist), and ruggedly handsome. But there was something else. He made me feel safe. I liked Paladin, but I always thought that he might shoot me as well as the bad guys. Not Clint Walker. There was something in his eyes that made me feel that I would never have to worry about that from him. That soothing, deep baritone voice conveyed assurance. That's a very nice thing when your four years old.

That was almost fifty years ago. Fifty...wow...

And yet, at the sound of that music...

I'm four years old again...sneaking out of my bed to the TV.

Music is an amazing thing. What it does to your memory is even more amazing.

I've always believed that teaching, especially the most difficult topics, should be done to music. Why? Music is a key to memory. Don't believe me? Recite the pledge of Allegiance. Get through without stumbling? OK...now try the Gettysburg Address. Any luck? Probably not.

Now, turn on your radio(or your computer's music) to what for you is an "oldies" station. Depending on your age, that could mean songs anywhere from the forties to the nineties. Now listen for a while. Eventually, a song will come on that you haven't heard in forever...and you'll remember most, if not all, of the lyrics.

Why does music have such an impact on us? Not just on our memories, but on our emotions? I think it has to do with the harmonics of the human body, and the way sounds resonate within those harmonics. Our bodies are bio-machines that run on chemically generated electrical impulses. Harmonics have a huge impact on, and interaction with, electrical impulses.

But enough technical talk...I didn't start this blog for that...

My miner's flashlight is lit. I pull the covers back...oh, so slowly. The coarseness of my father's Navy blanket scratches my skin...almost like sandpaper. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and look down...the drop seems enormous. I will myself over the side, praying the sound of my feet hitting the floor won't give me away. I freeze, like a statue, at the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. The 91 freeway hasn't been built yet, so the night is still...except for the crickets. The sound recedes, and I creep softly to the TV. The light from the small screen pierces the darkness. I adjusted the antenna earlier, because I knew what I wanted to watch tonight. The sound is on so low, I can barely hear it. Then, it begins...

Cheyenne, Cheyenne where will you be camping tonight? Lonely man, Cheyenne, will your heart stay free and light? Dream, Cheyenne, of a girl you may never love Move along, Cheyenne like the restless clouds up above.

The sound carries me away...

The wind that blows, that comes and goes, has been your only home. But will the wild wind one day cease and you'll no longer roam?

I'm on a mesa, overlooking the mission school, in my mind...

Move along, Cheyenne, next pasture's always so green. Driftin' on, Cheyenne don't forget the things you have seen, And when you will settle down where will it be? Cheyenne... Cheyenne!

And now I'm back there again...a small boy...full of hopes...fears...dreams...

Now...think of your own memories...close your eyes and drift back...

Where will you be camping tonight?

SIGNS OF THE APOCALYPSE

Flipping the channels this morning...Rick Warren, author of the Purpose(porpoise) driven life, Obama's new pastor(pimp) is on Fox news...giving his Easter service...

Really? A news channel broadcasting a man who prostitutes scripture for his own gain?
A man who teaches that you have to choose God, because he didn't choose you?
You have to choose to be a part of God's family?

Really?

Did you choose your family, or were you born into it?

What does Jesus tell Nicodemus in John chapter three?

You must be born from above(the proper translation of the Greek word, Ano)

So...just exactly what the heck did you have to do with your physical birth?

Nothing...you were just along for the ride...same with your spiritual birth...

What we choose, is what we're going to do as a member of His family, and when...

Not very empowering, which is why no one popular is teaching it today...

Very humbling...but liberating...

God does the heavy lifting...

You don't have to Find Jesus...He isn't lost...

You don't have to Accept Him...He doesn't need your blessing...

You don't have to help Him get His work done...He's pretty good at it...

I had planned an Easter blog on the actual days of Pascha...the Last supper on Tuesday...Crucifixion on Wednesday...rising from the dead Saturday night...should have done it...I do it every year...

Now I see this blasphemous opportunist teaching people that God needs them to accept Him, so they can change the world the way He wants it to be...and it's on a cable news channel...

So, here's my question for you...

Do you believe in an Omnipotent God...or an impotent one?

My God doesn't need my help...in fact, when I try and help, I'm just in the road and make the work harder for Him...

But He lets me try...because he loves me...of course, this doesn't jibe with most Pastors today...

I will always remember having this discussion with a Pastor many years ago...his response?

"...that's fine for someone like you, Chris...I consider myself, however, a fine instrument for God's service...He needs me for His work..."

Any God who "needs" me to get the job done...is a God who would be too inept to ever save me...

Have a nice Pascha(Easter)