With my very beloved Tanksi Faith. Her beloved father, Henry, taught my father to box when they lived together in White Swan, on the Missouri River, Yankton Sioux Reservation, before it was covered up by the Fort Randall Dam.
My father became the Pacific Coast University and College Lightweight Champion when he attended Oregon State and the All-Service Light Championship of the Caribbean Command held at the former Clayton Military Base, Panama Canal Zone. My father fought over 200 boxing matches, including professional ones under names like Flash Gordon and the Kansas City Express.
Without his brother Henry's mentorship, he would not have been able to fight his way out of his intergenerational pain. Boxing was how he got his rage and anger out, and he had a lot. Without boxing, the love and strength of my mother, and his Spiritual Faith, I believe he would have died at a young age.
Before he went to the Other Side Camo, he told me, "Son, if I had to do it over again, I would never participate in a sport whose purpose was to hurt another human being! "
I did not understand at the time as I was taught to fight from as early as I could remember. My father first put his boxing gloves on me when I was three.
The first "Smoker" I fought in Hermiston, Oregon, I was about 6 or 7. I was terrified, but I wanted to please my father, who was in my corner, cheering me on. My big challenge was that I was very near-sighted and could not see well.
Then contact lenses saved me when I was 12. I went from 20/400 vision to 20/20. It was like entering a new world. After that, I did my best to "settle up," as my father taught me, with those who liked to tease me and call me "four eyes" and the older white boy who sexually abused me.
Growing up with parents who attended Indian Boarding Schools, etc., by the time I was 12 and started playing Jr Hi Football and wrestling when I was 14, I wanted to hurt my opponents as much as possible. It was my way of getting my hatred, rage, and hurt out, like my father.
The only exceptions were Joe Hoptowit, Yakima, and Vernon Six Killer, Pawnee. I eased off in both matches.
When I first started wrestling, I was so much into it that I could barely remember the match after it was over. I would literally black out during most of the match.
My motto was the more challenging, the better, as my father always told me, "Son, you are only going to be a good wrestler or pole vaulter by competing against the best!"
At 78 winters, I feel the same as my beloved father about sports, whose purpose is to hurt another Human Being. I still have some healing to do, especially when someone hurts my loved ones. I have also learned that we grow spiritually through our tests and difficulties.
If I did not find a spiritual path in 1967, I would have been dead a long time ago, but once you understand that the hurt of one is the hurt of all, you begin to understand that rage, revenge, and anger, as well as the underlying fear, takes you nowhere but down.
My rage, anger, and need for revenge took me down to the bottom of the bottom. On the other hand, in 1967, I began to understand that love, faith, forgiveness, and faith in our Creator take us up. This does not mean you do not have some severe tests when you walk the Red Road. We do!
That is why one of my favorite teachings is," Do you think you say you believe and will not be tested?" And we all have our tests and difficulties. They come with the "Dinner of Life!"