very good read.
story-time:
I came home from school one day, with my right eye swollen shut. A kid, actually a friend of mine, jumped me on the way home. The school never found out what happened (this was when I was at public school, and my father felt it was something to take care of on the home front.)
My dad literally beat the crap out of me for about two days. Never told me how to block or guard, just put me in some sparring pads and had at it at me!
It was actually kind of fun and I giggled. He told me, "THAT, is your greatest defense. If you can laugh when they expect you to cry, you've already won."
That was the start of me taking self defense classes. A year later, some of the bigger boys and one's older brother were picking on one of my friends. She was cute, and played sports but didn't have an aggressive streak to save her soul. I stepped in. The one boy and his brother were the ones that beat me up the year earlier and thought me having a backbone was funny. I remember counting to 30, while being tumbled in a trashcan, which now scares me that the teachers didn't break it up yet! I ended the fight, the older brother and younger brother ended up actually in the hospital, on gurneys. That I wasn't proud of, but I tried to fight to the least extent, and taking them permanently out, was required.
My reward for sticking up for her? Well, I was expelled from school and was the start to something wonderful at St. Mary Katherine's Military Academy. My mom was profoundly distraught and if it wasn't for Fr. Seamus, and Fr. Steve (who baptised me) I think to this day my mom would be still afraid. She has never understood or condoned ANY kind of violence, let alone the kind where an eight year old puts his friend and older brother in the hospital. This is also why my family, including the priests, have kept my mom completely in the dark as to the realities of my career in the military.
The girl I protected? Still a great friend I wouldn't trade for the world.
