you fat, lazy, beer drinking, TV watching old man

I have always been a sports fan…not fanatic, but a fan none the less. I played a lot of sports as a kid, but since high school it has mostly just been recreational skiing, swimming and stuff like that. I, as an adult, never got into any organized sport or workout/exercise routine I love watching sports; football, soccer, hockey, boxing and in the late 80s, got into watching kickboxing.

When I moved to LA from Boston, in 1994, I had not done any kind of sport or regular workout for close to a decade (what a lame ass I am.) Then, through my work, I met a woman who was the publicist for a kickboxing trainer. She asked me if I’d like her to set me up with him…to work out and train at his gym. When I asked her what his name was she said that I most likely did not now him but his name was Benny Urquidez. I was floored! Of course I knew who he was…only the greatest kickboxer in the world! Benny “The Jet” Urquidez!!! I had idolized him since I started following the sport and was mad that he had retired a handful of years earlier. I quickly said that I’d love to train with him…”Where do I sign?”

Once she brought me out to meet Benny I knew that I would be his newest, subservient little ball of clay…to mold into a super warrior…like himself. On my first day at the gym…after peeing and pooing all over myself …out of pure fear…Benny explaind a bit about his history, the gym and its rules and what he teaches. I kind of just sat there in awe. I mean this guy is a legend. He started competing in amature kickboxing competitions at 5 years old, competed around the world, held championship belts in 4 weight divisions for more than 25 years and then, after retiring, came out of retirement at the age of 42 to fight the 25 year old Japanese world title holder…and won. Benny had NEVER lost a professional fight in his life.

I, an out of shape guy in my late 20’s, was scared. I told Benny that I wanted to train as a workout…to keep in shape …and know how to kick some ass! He corrected me and said…”workout …yes, kick ass…no…but I WILL teach you how to ‘defend’ yourself.” And that is where it started. I was at the gym 3 days a week (from freakin 6:30AM to 9 AM) It went slow at first…and they were some of the hardest workouts that I could ever imagine. He would get me to that point…where the puke is right around the corner and then he’d say, “NOW we can start training.” He explained that if our bodies were tired…we would not over-think the technique…he’s knows best.

It was not long before I started noticing that I was, indeed, getting into shape and was beginning to ‘float’ around the gym…hitting the bags right…and hard while whipping through the stretching and cardio parts of the workouts. That is when he sat me down and said that he was going to include me in his Saturday morning “Breakfast Bunch.” I was quick to ask for an explanation. He said that it was just a bunch of guys that he trains…who get together on Saturday mornings to spar. SPAR….are you fucking kidding me? I about vomited all over him. But…how could I say no?

So when we all met at the gym on Saturday morning I asked Benny if he really thought that I was ready for this or not. His response to me was, “Well, we’ll see. I have to see how you react …under pressure.” What the fuck? He wants to see me get my ass kicked. Talk about the butterflies…kicking the shit out of my stomach. Then after the butterflies get done with me…this group of guys that have been training with him for years...get to have their way with me. It ended up being ok. I found my confidence and held my own…from that point on…I loved Saturday mornings.

For the next several year I worked out with him and had the pleasure of becoming very close with his family. At the gym I worked out with many other fighters (amateur and professional) as well as celebrities. As Benny is a fight choreographer and fight instructor for the movie industry, there were many days that the gym seemed to be more of a celeb-fest than a kickboxing gym. From rock stars to movie actors…they all praised and adored “Sensei.” The best day was when he told me to meet him at another location and that I’d be working out with someone else. He did not say who…just gave the address as to where to meet him. When I got there, Benny showed me in and I almost shit myself…right on the floor of…John Cusack’s private gym. Benny made the introductions …and then “Johnny” proceeded to kick my ass. I did not realize that he was 6’4” and weighed about 220 lbs. He is a big guy. Anyway…that was quite the experience.

Close to the end of my marriage…in 2003…there was so much going on that I had to stop going to the gym. I was quite sad. I was in the best shape of my life, had more self confidence than I’ve ever had …and knew that I could indeed kick some ass.

I miss Benny. I miss my workouts. I miss my fucking, rock hard abs and sub 10% body fat.

DAMN!!!!!!!! Exceeding 40 and not working out can really fuck with a guy!

Fuck you, you fat, lazy, beer drinking, TV watching old man!!!!!

Let "ME" The F Out!!

Dear (10 year old) TentCamper,

I am writing to you today to tell you that no matter how you might feel right now…things WILL change. I know that you are only in fourth grade and that people pick on you, call you names and beat you up, only because your skin is darker than theirs. You need to trust me, I have been exactly where you are right now and if you stay strong and show everyone that you are a nice, likeable boy, you will be fine.

When I was your age the same thing happened to me. I was scared to go to school most days and knew that I was going to be beat up by groups of bigger kids. The butterflies in my stomach were so bad most of the time that I threw up or just went straight into the nurse’s office to hide. I used to fight back, the best I could, but for the most part…I tried to be invisible. I did not want anyone to notice me. I stayed to myself, did not make waves and ALWAYS wanted to be alone. I was very lonely and wanted the other kids to like me…but I was too scared to take any chances.

Do you feel ‘hollow’ like I did? I hope not. It is a horrible way to feel. If you can, take only this advice; be yourself. Let everyone know just how funny, nice, cool and smart you really are. Tear down that wall that you have put up around you. Crawl out of that hole. Open your heart to others…even if you think that they won’t care. There will be no way that they won’t like you. I will tell you - that worked for me.

I was always a very kind, gentle, caring, funny, personable and sensitive child, but I never let other people know …only because I was scared of them. They never saw who I really was. Not until I was in 5th grade…that is when I let ‘ME’ out. And from that point on…not even my skin color could drag away some of the great friends that I’d made.

The last thing that I’d like to say to you…and you can believe me or not…You are going to have a great life. You are going to be important in the lives of many people and the happiness that you are going to bring them will change them forever.

My heart is with you.

TentCamper Sr.

For more great stories , check out Mama's Losin It

Racist Kids And The Chameleon - 3

The inner office reeked of a mixture of cologne, leather and pipe smoke. Standing in the doorway, now with a scared look on my face, I started towards the oversized burgundy leather couch. The principal stopped me and said, “Sit there!” pointing to a single wooden chair in the corner of the room. As I sat down, fear descended upon me.

The principal began by asking me what I had done…but he really did not care. I sat there and listened to him scold and talk down to me like I was not even worthy of being in “His” school. After leaving his office, I sat in the hall for a few minute and knew that this was going to be a battle. I put my plan into action…full force. The year started with my classroom remarks, making jokes, throwing crumpled papers at the teacher’s desk, and talking back to the teacher. I would get in trouble EVERYDAY and at least 3 times a week I would end up in the principal’s office. I knew that this was not good, but I also noticed that the other kids in the class were starting to laugh at me...whether it was something I said…or the fashion in which I was sent off to see the principal…shit…I did not care, they were actually laughing with me.

I carefully weighed the progress that I was making with the other kids against the trouble I was getting in at school and knew that I had to withstand the punishment that I got from my parents for the good of my physical safety. As the year progressed, fewer of the kids started fights with me and some actually prodded me, in class, to tell jokes and harass the teacher so that they could laugh. I was more than willing to accommodate them. There were still a few of the “tough guy” kids that wanted a piece of me and I knew that this would not end until I was able to hold my own on the playground.

I remember approaching the stairwell that led down to the lunch room one day and seeing a few of these kids standing at the landing…just waiting. I cleared my head and knew that I would have to fight them. There were three of them and I was terrified. As I got closer to them, I averted my eyes to see if I’d be able to just walk by them. That was not going to happen. They moved from leaning against the wall to blocking access to the stairs. I stood there not knowing what to do. There were people behind me and the stairwell above became crowded with kids watching this development. The three started to approach me, when from behind me, I heard a voice of another boy yell out, “one at a time!” I was in complete shock…there was someone that was standing up for me.

I quickly numbed myself, as I had learned to do over the years, balled up my fists and got into a fighting stance. The biggest of the boys moved forward. All I could see at that point was his huge fists. I knew that I would have to avoid them at all costs. The first swing came at my face. Quickly ducking, I felt his fist fly over my head. I backed up and he swung again, this time for my gut. I doubled over in pain as his fist seemed to go straight through me. Just then I told myself that if I did not beat this kid, I would really be in for it and that the plan that was working…would have been a complete waste and things would go back to the way they were. I struck out from where I was and landed a fist to his balls. (shit. I did not care about fair fighting…they never did.) He let out a yelp and went to a knee. I stood straight up and punched him square in the nose followed by the hardest kick I had ever delivered, straight to the center of his chest. The other two boys looked at each other and moved toward me. I did not know who to go after first …so I waited for them. As they approached, a boy from behind them held one of them back. I did not hesitate in my attack. I swiftly began to punch and kick this boy until his friend did not have to be restrained anymore…he just stood there and watched as I bloodied his “tough guy” friend.

A few minutes later, there was yelling from the top of the stairs. It was a teacher coming. Everyone disbursed and ran in different directions. That is...everyone except me. I just stood there with two boys in front of me, blood on there faces and blood splattered on my shoes and dripping from my hands. The teacher got to the landing and immediately grabbed me, while looking at the two kids’ injuries. Needles to say, they went to the nurse and me…off to the principal. Now, with my record with the principal…I was scared of what he might do.

The principal made me sit in his office, on that hard wooden chair for the rest of the day. I sat there, unable to say a word as he called my mother and told her about the incident. I did not know what she was saying, but his recount of what had happened was so ill-founded…the jerk wasn’t even there. I did worry about what I would say to my mother when I got home. I did not want her to make a big stink…knowing that it would only make things worse….but I was not the instigator of the fight and I wanted to be able to tell her that…but I knew that I couldn’t.

After that day, I found that my plan was indeed working. I not only had kids actually laughing WITH me but there were a few that would talk to me. Things got better from there. I still had fights here and there, was in trouble with teachers and the principal a lot…but I was making friends and the tough guys started to think twice before jumping me. Now that I had proven that I could fight.

The year was tough but I ended it with a couple pretty good friends…and a girlfriend. That was a great way to end a year in my book.

Racist Kids And The Chameleon - 2

It was never one on one and I could no longer just try to defend myself…I had to think of something to get out of the fights. Being outnumbered the way I was…I knew that I had to find another way. The fights …and hiding continued through 4th grade and that is when I finally figured that if I could not beat them, I’d have to find a way to join them. I spent that summer trying to figure out a way to make everyone like me …or at least put up with me.

Mid summer, it came to me. Now, I had 5 brothers and sisters and at home, I was a pretty funny guy and I also found that I had the ability to “change.” I could adjust my attitude and personality to fit well with the person that I was with. I spent the rest of the summer honing my chameleon-like skills…as well as my humor. It was going to be all or nothing this year. I could not continue hiding bruises, bloody nooses and fat lips on top of lying about the cuts and scrapes that I had gotten used to over the past few years.

At the arrival of the first day of 5th grade, I was waiting for the bus with my brothers and sisters. I was overrun with anxiety about the day ahead of me. With the recent years of practice I had become a pretty tough kid, but there was only so much I could do while outnumbered. I got frustrated, thinking of how I might be able to avoid the impending beatings that day. Just then, the bus pulled up. After watching my siblings hurry onto the bus and find seats with their friends, I realized that once again I would have to sit alone in the back seat.

Staring out the window, seeing a miserable little boy in the reflection in the glass, I knew that I had to change things…NOW. Hearing the laughter and fooling around in the seats in front of me made the silence and solitude of the back seat that much more intense. The 20 minute ride to school usually seemed like an eternity, but that day …it was different. By the time the bus pulled up in front of the school the reflection that I saw in the window had changed …to one resembling that of a scientist discovering the cure for a deadly disease. I had an idea and with all of the courage that I could muster…would try it today.

Making my way down the long corridor to class, I noticed the usual dirty looks, snickering and racist comments following me as I walked. I quickly took refuge in my classroom, which was empty for the moment. I sat at a desk and put more thought into the details of my plan. Smiling to myself, I was startled when the door opened again. It was Mrs. Brooks, my new teacher. As she walked in and closed the door, she looked over at me and greeted me with a smile and “good morning.” After putting her things down at her desk, she turned and asked me if everything was OK. Now I knew Mrs. Brooks from last year…she was one teacher that had always treated me fairly…and now I was going to ruin that. I, trying to hide the unfamiliar mischievous smile on my face, told her that everything was fine.

Just then, letting my eyes move back down to their normal position…staring at the front of my desk, as to not attract any unwanted attention. I watched as the other kids in the class started to file into the small classroom. All of the chatter and moving around ceased as Mrs. Brooks rose from her desk. My anxiety was high and I know that I was sweating profusely. I was lost in my own head, trying to decide when I should put my new plan into action.

I knew that my attitude change could not be too drastic – I needed this to work. After about 15 minutes, I found my first opportunity for my plan to start. After the class was done reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, the class was silent, waiting for our teacher to sit down and prepare for class. All of the sudden a fart erupted and echoed throughout the entire room. The whole class began to burst out into laughter…all except Mrs. Brooks. As the other kids in the class saw the extremely irritated look in her eyes, there were suddenly about a dozen fingers pointed directly at me.

Mrs. Brooks marched through the classroom and stood over me, with her hands on her hips. The look on her face was one of complete disgust and anger. This was a new side of her…one that I had never seen before. Her daunting presence gave off a very unfamiliar air of unemotional superiority from her…which was far different than the empathy and safety that I had felt …until now. Mrs. Brooks instructed me to stand up. As I did, she barked, “Why did you do that? It disrupted the entire class.” My planned response, an attempt to make my classmates laugh again – “I only burped…it just came out of my ass.”

Mrs. Brooks grabbed me by the back of my neck, obviously not worried about the fingernails that were working their way beneath my skin. She stormed me down the hall to the principal’s office. Upon entering the outer office, Mrs. Brooks informed the secretary that I had disrupted the class and was being vulgar and rude. On her way out the door, she glanced over her shoulder and added, I don’t want to see him in my classroom until after lunch.”

The secretary pointed to a row of hard wooden chairs across from her desk and instructed me to “sit.” She then quickly picked up her phone and whispered something …while glaring at me. Perched atop one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs, my eyes surveyed the room. There was a mixture of pictures, certificates and school rules pined to the textured walls. Until now…I had never noticed anything about this office…I had been here before, but generally stared at the floor. Time seemed to stand still, but it was really only a matter of minutes before the phone buzzed. The secretary looked at me and said, “He’ll see you now.”

Racist Kids And The Chameleon

Stemming from my adoption…I will give you a bit of a back story on me.

My natural mother is white and natural father is black (making me…an Oreo.) I was adopted in 1967, when I was 10 days old by a very loving couple (both white.) They already had one daughter and then had a miscarriage, so they decided to adopt me. Now, I can’t say how I felt then…cuz I was tiny little thing that only knew to cry, poo and eat. What I can say is that we lived in rural New Hampshire…where everything (except the leaves in the Fall) was white. Oh….but not me…I was/am more of a caramel. Anyway, life was good, at least from where I sat and in my baby world.

As I got a bit older (5 or 6), I started to experience racism…and this was even before I really knew what it was. I obviously knew that I looked different than EVERYONE…but I just thought that everyone WAS different…some pale, some pinkish, some fat, some skinny, some had black hair, some blonde, etc. I guess that I never really brought it up cuz I thought my skin was a bit darker. Boy it would be great if everyone had my 6 year old attitude. Soon after going into first grade and coming home from school with stories of people being mean and not seeing anyone else that looked anything like me, my mother sat me down for a discussion.

My mother told me that (in a longer, more descriptive way) that I was adopted and that one of my natural parents was black. At the time…I guess that was enough…now I knew why I was different. The community that we lived in was completely white. Iwas the only person of colorin the entire school at that point. My mother then told me that if people were being mean to me, that I should immediately tell my teacher or the principal. At the time…that sounded good to me, figuring that the teachers would straighten things out.

As time went on, kids were still mean and basically ignored me…unless they were picking on me. I told the teachers a few times, but the message that I got from them was, “kids this age can be mean…you have to just get used to it.”

In second and third grades, things got worse. There was more of the same nagging and kids making fun of me as well as a lot of pushing and instigating trouble. It was in third grade when I got into my first real fight. It was not what one would think of third graders, it was me trying to defend myself against several boys throwing punches and calling me “nigger.” After I thoroughly got thrashed, I did go to the principal’s office to report the fight and the boys who were responsible. The principal flipped through a book and then looked over at me before stating that there have been a lot of “reports” of trouble that included me. Then he proceeded to tell me that I would be in serious trouble if there were any more.

I knew, from that point on that the teachers and the principal would be of no help to me. I did not want to tell my parents because I knew that they would call the principal and then I would be in worse trouble. Now, looking back on this…it was some pretty intense thought for a 9 year old. After that first fight, the fights became a regular thing. I came to expect that I would spend my recess either hiding or fighting. At that point, I did not want to call on my older sister or younger brother for “back up, cuz I did not want them to have to endure what I was going through and did not want them to have to fight my battles for me. I knew that this had to be figured our by me…and me alone.

TO BE CONTINUED….