As I was growing up, my father and I were inseparable. Every spare moment he had, I was by his side. He shared with me countless times about loving to box since his first fight, at the Haskell Indian Institute, when he was 14. He fought a man from the Kansas City Athletic Club who was 31.
In fact, as I look back, no matter if his nose was broken and it was several times, not only did he love to fight, he really enjoyed every moment of that part of his life. And I must say, I really enjoyed that part of my life, as well!
He also liked a street fight in his day, as I did. There were even a few times when we went to visit our relatives at Standing Rock that he and his Tahansi's, settled some scores in Mobridge, South Dakota. They didn't tolerate prejudice in any form.
Some years before he went to the Other Side Camp I returned home to visit him and my mom. These were very precious times when we spent hours visiting about every dimension of life, including how his funeral would be conducted.
This trip there was a different look in his eyes, softness, and gentleness radiating from him, I had never seen or sensed before. He looked deep into my soul and said, "Son, if I had my life to live over again, I would never participate in a Sport whose purpose was to hurt another Human Being." It has taken me awhile, but today I feel the same way! #FWII
