When David was just five years of age, I bought him a pair of boxing gloves. In fact, I bought one pair for David and one pair for the boy across the street. I got them together and let them box. The boy punched David in the nose; David wanted to quit, but I wouldn't let him. I was going to teach him how to defend himself, how to be a man- physically a man, emotionally a man, mentally a man, and spiritually a man. He learned to fight until now he can protect his sisters.

One day when David was about nine I looked out through the upstairs window and saw him across the street straddling a little fellow and beating him up. He was hitting him right in the face until blood was coming. I ran down the stairs, out the door, across the street and pulled him off. "Son, what in the world are you doing?" I said.

He looked up with quivering lips and with anger in his eyes said, "Dad, he was calling my sister (Linda) a dirty name."

I said, "Then get back on him and let him have it!" When I walked away he was back on him again beating him up. God pity this weak-kneed generation which stands for nothing, fight for nothing, and dies for nothing.