Looking Back

Galveston, Texas

I grew up on Galveston island with the warm sun, smells of the gulf salt, cool breeze off the seawall, open fields of wildflowers, oleander trees, stick burs, playing with all the neighborhood kids till dusk, flying kites and riding bikes up and down the streets of the west end with not a worry in the world. 

I have fun memories of the beach, playing in the sand, finding sand dollars, feeding seagulls donuts and Cheetos, learning to surf with my dad, watching my mom make surfer bead necklaces, hanging out in surf shops, watching my dad and his buddies make boards, the smell of resin and surfboard wax, my first pair of pink tights and dance lessons with tutus, twirling lessons, playing softball, roller skating, swimming lessons, going to school at Crockett and Parker Elementary. I can even remember the smell of the schools, the smells of the cafeterias, the hallways, my amiable teachers, one very stern teacher with a crooked finger, the PE exercise song “Were the Houston Oilers,” my mom as the “Avon lady,” my dad as an undercover cop, the different houses we lived in, going to church every Sunday and so much more! All memories and without a care in the world, a feeling of peace and freedom and joy. Basically and wholeheartedly, my corner of the world was safe!

These experiences were bliss; I’d do it all over again! Except at the end of my 4th grade year, we moved. 

Even though I was sad to leave the island, I was excited to see other places and experience new experiences. I was all for it because, as far as I knew, all over was paradise! I was enthusiastic, excited, and anxious to live this safe, peaceful, joyful life over the Causeway in Hitchcock, TX. 

Moving

Well, It didn’t happen, “it,” as in paradise, didn’t come with it.

My dad accepted a new promotion as Chief of Police, so off we went; after all, he had a mission, a new job in a new town, and his charge was “always vigilant.” 

Come Monday, on my first day of school, my little enthusiast self turned from excitement to sadness, confusion to disappointment, hurt to grief. These weren’t the same emotions I had known all my life. All in one day, I was treated like a hostile prisoner in a foreign country. The school I was enrolled in treated me like this: it was unforgiving, cruel, and incorrect! 

I was bullied by all the kids in my class. If I hadn’t had such a wonderful family, the outcome of my future might have been grim. I got hit with name-calling, looks, pushing, meanness in class, and mistreatment. All the while, the teacher just looked away; when she wasn’t turning a blind eye, she smiled half as if she were to say, “You had it coming.” She would smirk and laugh when I was looking at her to save me. I felt singled out… 

I don’t know too many 4th graders who have been waterboarded, but you can put me down as a 4th-grade version of waterboarding!

The first thing that came over me, my entire body, mind, heart, hairs on my head, was that I didn’t understand…I thought there had been a mistake; you got the wrong person… I want to be your friend. I’m kind, sweet, fair, fun, and reasonable! But nope! I was surrounded by children physically drowning me in the toilet.

My second thought was, “This isn’t really happening to me; it can’t be.” So, I allowed second chances, maybe they will all realize they made a terrible mistake, and we can sweep this all under the rug and just forget it ever happened.

I lost my smile, sadness took over me, and a feeling of not being welcome or wanted that. My smile is radiant; a true smile is contagious, but I couldn’t find it. This was just wrong on so many levels. In my mini-lost state, I missed the bus home that day, or did I? I just started walking; I did not really know precisely how to get to my house; I just knew where I lived. The next thing I knew, my dad, in his cop car, was trailing me. He gets out, takes my hand, puts me in the car, and drives me home. Of course, after a stern talk n too about wandering & me telling them of my awful events, I was removed from the school and enrolled in a little school just up the road called Our Lady of Lourdes.

Family In Hitchcock

When I lived there with my family, I experienced joy with them. Things like family fight night (it was really gentle and fun and a semi-intro to what will be called my beginning journey of martial arts), the family record player that magically played classical music every morning when we woke up. Our only existence of heat in the house, the wood-burning stove, our vegetable garden, and the best hamburger I’ve ever had! “Char-Burger.” It was a drive-up dive just on Hwy 6, all burgers served on white parchment paper with a twist off at the end and toothpick atop, the smell of the meat patty just off the greasy grill with all its juices on a mound of lettuce, pickles, onions, tomatoes with mustard and a bun bold enough to contain it all yet soft and an aroma that melted your mouth from the moment you pulled in off Hwy 6 until the meal was devoured. We only lived a few miles up the road from Char-burger, but waiting to get home from receiving our order seemed like a pioneer trek. I just couldn’t hardly wait. It was so delicious. Plus, the fries were thick, perfect salt, a plentiful bite full, and they gave you so much in the white paper that we kids could share 1 order. Unless we had a special treat and could order onion rings, we’d have to get a couple of those; they were EPIC!

Char-Burger was a family HIT and something to look forward to. Also, El Sombrero Mexican Restaurant. A little, tiny, square, blink your eye, and you’ve passed it simple restaurant just off Hwy 6 surrounded by trees that looked like a 1970s brick house. But that was a neat treat to have dinner there with the family. We loved the chips and simple but makes you want to guzzle salsa, enchiladas, tostadas, and beans, how they seasoned the rice, how it was all plated and hot, and the friendly family-run staff that included girls my age that later we became friends in school.

Another family favorite in Hitchcock that we experienced joy in was the Roller Rink just over the railroad tracks on the same side of the highway as Char Burger in a light yellow aluminum building. I’m sure I had a radiant smile from when we exited our Clark Griswold station wagon until our skate session was over. I was obsessed with Olivia Newton-John and pretended I was her skating like out of the movie Xanadu. 

I don’t know if these places operate to this day, but back in the early 80s, this was a joy for us, for me.

Different but the same…

I met the headmaster, Sister Mother Mary, or something. She was tall, carried a ruler, didn’t smile, was quite old, and her office was cold. She told me with no expression on her face I had nothing to worry about and that I could expect the strictest discipline. She walked me to my classroomor floated; I never saw her shoes; I was kind of scared; I never met a floating Nun before. 

I attended school here in 4th and 5th grade. I spent a lot of time in the library vs. mass. My time at recess was spent on the playground and the tetherball stand. My mom sent me to school with a Tupperware lunch container and 4 mini Tupperware cups with lids. I used to keep 10 cents in my pocket daily to get an ice cream sandwich after lunch, and I was sad when I forgot. I wore several blue uniforms and recall being cold in class often. I was shy in this school but at peace. It stopped at 6th grade, so for me to know kids in the next school, my parents took me out and placed me in Santa Fe the last month of 5th grade.

Moment of Dynamic Impact

My dad was still Chief of Police In Hitchcock. He had taken me to work with him one day.  I was sitting at his desk playing with handcuffs when he was called out of his office. I got up from the desk and walked over to the shelf, where I picked up a three-ring binder that looked like pictures were inside. I’m not sure what happened, but my dad stopped at the door and turned around, walked back over to me, put the binder down, and said you can’t look at this; go back to the chair and wait for me; just play with the handcuffs he said. 

He left the room; I was curious, so I walked over to pick up the binder, sat back down, and opened it up.

Be very cautious, friends; an image doesn’t leave you, so be careful what you choose to look at. I didn’t know what to expect; I only wanted to see pictures; after all, I had a Holly Hobby Camera!

Wolves

I was immediately caught by sadness, sorrow, anger, grief, and helplessness. These are emotions I immediately felt upon looking at these pictures. The book contained photographs of children, women, teens, and people who were physically abused AND tortured. Images of irons seared into backs, cigarette burns in arms, beaten faces, blood, broken bones, bruises, and more. The faces in the photos looked lost, helpless, nonexistent, silently calling for freedom and help! Little did I know the book was an investigation and record, but what I recall was feeling like I was in the room when the abuse took place. I was a fly on the wall, yelling for them to run, hide, block, andfight back! 

I don’t know how long my dad was out of the office or how long I was frozen, but I felt hot sheets of tears pouring down my face. I couldn’t talk; my throat locked as if frozen. 

My dad returned, stopped at the doorway, and looked at me; I turned ever so slowly back to reality. I saw tears in his eyes; he ran towards me, slid down on his knees, put me in his arms, and asked me why I looked at those pictures. With warm tears pouring down my face, I cried, “I don’t know.” But I knew right then and there that I wanted to be someone to help other people to help themselves!!

Passionate 

I couldn’t define exactly what that meant, but if I knew the analogy back then of the Sheep, Wolf, and Sheepdog, I would say that I chose to be a Sheepdog that day. To protect the sheep and confront the wolf. 

Sheep don’t know any better, can’t help themselves, or have a mentality of “it will never happen to me.” I felt a sense of wanting to guard these people, to stand up for them. Wolves prey on the sheep and wreak havoc, creating disturbance, distractions, interference, and chaos. These people are lost, they are miserable, and they are really, really good at being really, really bad. 

It doesn’t take much thought to consider how the wolf begins his or her journey. Some stay on that evil path and get worse; some can change and have the ability to be affected by outstanding leadership and positive influence.  That’s why teaching sound principles in the home, surrounding your children with outside influencers of sound, and duplicating your efforts are essential. It truly takes a village to raise a child.

Sheepdogs protect the sheep and confront the wolf. Sheepdogs are First Responders, Police, Military, great citizens, and great humans. 

I learned it’s a much better life experience to be in the parade of life than to stand by and watch it happen. I wanted to stand for something good and help others along the way.

Self Defense

I was introduced to martial arts at the age of 13. I am that 1% who never quit; been training for 34 years and counting! I am a Black Belt. I am a Sheepdog. I am a Black Belt leader. I can assure you that leaders aren’t born leaders; I know that Leaders are made and developed. They are made from life experiences and learning from their parents, teachers, and martial arts instructors. Leaders have the wisdom to surround themselves with people who lift them up and support worthy endeavors and goals. They do not allow influencers, interference, disturbance, and evil ways to distract them from doing what is right and doing the right thing. Sheepdog Leaders desire to be really good at being really, really good!

When I entered the dojo, I saw its infinite potential and how I could use martial arts as a tool with all its sound principles. I saw the progress I made personally and all its functions. I saw the benefits of health, wisdom, talent development, and being a steward to your fellow human, brother, and sister in Christ. I was also pretty good at it! Kicks, stances, punches, blocks, all of it, I loved it, still do!

Might for Right!

I have a Kanji that says “Many are called, Few are Chosen”.

I felt a deep desire to help others help themselves, be a protector, serve my family, and protect them and myself. I am one of the chosen few, I chose in. I am passionate about self-defense. 

I’ve experienced applying self-defense on numerous occasions and seasons in my journey through life. I remind myself each class why I teach and who I am when I recite this creed: “ To build true confidence through knowledge in the mind, honesty in the heart, and strength in the body.  To keep friends with one another and to build a strong, safe, and happy community. Never fight to achieve selfish ends, but to develop Might for Right!

What doesn’t kill you CAN make you stronger…

Even though being bullied didn’t end in elementary school, not all of it, as there were times in 6th, 7th, and 8th… Even as an adult, I’ve seen the wolf in action occasionally. It’s our world, and I choose to rise above it, educate it, make it better, and help others survive, defend, counter, and win (live). When life experiences direct you to take a stand, you become passionate about whatever that is. I just hope it’s something in you that can be contagious in a positive, influential way. I’ve dedicated my last 25 years to self-defense and am a Huge Advocate. It’s my thoughts and words; I will act when needed. Like my dad’s charge to be “Always Vigilant,” I am a Sheepdog with life experiences that I hope can help others with my work and mission. 

I encourage you to set your family up for success. Teach how to NOT be a bully. Learn how to stand up for yourself and your kids to stand up for themselves. Surround yourself with positive influencers and resources. Be a wildly fantastic, positively contagious person who leads by a good example, and just as I say at the end of each of my classes, I ask my students, “How do you lead?” They say, “By example, Mam’”!