Why I care. Why I fight.
Long ago when I was a youngster, I was witness to something evil. Something Illegal. Something that was a cancer to my generation.
As a 12-year-old, I witnessed a drug transaction taking place, and I saw it strictly by accident, randomly, except that the people involved saw me as well.
I was 12 years old. And my dad was a Sergeant with the police department. Now, some people would have likely have chosen the safer option of saying nothing, doing nothing, and hoping for the best. But self-preservation wasn’t on my mind that day.
The quantity of product being distributed in the bathroom of a Junior High School told me that saying nothing could lead to someone getting hooked on drugs. And knowing as I did that dealers tend to lack quality controls, someone could easily end up hospitalized or worse.
My course of action? I relayed what I had seen to the very strict but fair vice principal. I then got back to my class.
Later that same day, I was brutally beaten by a group of 5 gang members ranging from 18 to 25 in age. Again, I was one 12-year-old. I figured if it was your garden-variety beating, perhaps someone would come to my aid.
But this wasn’t a garden-variety beating at all. This was people who intended to do me severe harm. When I saw a switchblade and brass knuckles I realized I had to be my own rescuer. Bloodied and bleeding on the ground, they were about to come back at me for round 2.
I spotted a rock, about the size of a baseball within my reach. I could conceal it in my palm. I then waited for Brass Knuckles dude to take his first swing. I ducked. He missed. I didn’t.
I then wielded the rock in a very threatening manner, I must have looked like a mess, but I had just knocked out the biggest one of them. Cold-cocked him. I screamed “Who wants to take a bite out of this rock before I cram it down your throat??!!”
About that time, a driver in a station wagon saw my predicament, and stopped. She seemed like a 35- or 40-year old, probably a mother of fellow students. The rest of the gang members scattered like birds. She asked me if I needed a ride home, and I told her I was OK. I then walked a few blocks to my house.
I hadn’t had a chance to call my dad who was working that day to tell him what happened. But my oldest brother took a keen interest in the events of that day. by the time evening rolled around, my brother and some of his friends were out walking around farther from home.
They were then confronted by the gang, plus several more of their gang buddies, wielding lead pipes, brass knuckles and switchblades. My brother led his friends running toward the home of a family friend(also a cop’s house) where they sought refuge.
I’d love to be able to say that gangs were a rarity in my hometown, but sadly there were many others I became aware of over time. And around the country, the problem is much worse. So much worse.
So when people might wonder why I have chosen to stand up and fight evil in our nation, be it social ills, government corruption or what-have-you, I don’t see any problem ever being solved without we the citizens empowering ourselves, and collecting ourselves with resolve and with conviction to protect our homes, our families, our neighborhoods and our communities.
So now, as I look at the embarrassingly stupid bottom-feeders who just voted for Pelosi, Maxine Waters and a tassel of other radical leftists, unless this nation breaks the trend by learning from it’s grave mistakes, I figure we all must be stronger and more visible in taking back our streets from the hooligans in places like California. and Illegal Immigration is a real threat. The drug cartels are more easily concealed by waves of illegals crossing the border.
That is not rhetoric. It is pure FACT.
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