One of the first people to take a real interest in helping me develop as a martial artist and human being is Chris Pedrick Sensei. I met Chris when I was a very young, arrogant karate “wanna be.” Pedrick Sensei was and still is a formidable human; his powerful six foot and something frame, huge forearms and just the right amount of nastiness gave him, among other things, devastating striking power. Was I intimidated the first time I met him? Hell yes. And when you’re immature and arrogant as I was back then, you have something to prove. I had something to prove. Chris was my Goliath; I figured if I had the guts to spar with that guy, I could take anybody. But you tend to make stupid mistakes when you set out to prove something and I sure did. Though we were wearing pads and groin protection, my general lack of skill mixed with fear and anger led me to do the only thing I could to score a hit; I kicked him in the groin. Not once, but twice. The first time, he merely pushed me back and said calmly but sternly, “Don’t kick my groin.” The fact that he wasn’t physically phased should have been enough, but when we started sparring again I panicked and did it a second time. He repeated the same words, a little louder, and then proceeded to hit the top of my head with tetsui, aka “hammer fist.” My knees buckled, I saw stars and I had to take a “time out.” Tough love.
That wasn’t the first time that Chris had to teach me a lesson about martial arts as well as about humanity. A couple years later I was in charge of teaching the self-defense class our school offered. The people who attended those classes were generally “weekend warriors.” They were not part of the rough jujitsu classes, nor were they a part of the knuckle draggers like me who participated in “Friday Night Fight Night” every week. I should have understood this the day I accidentally caused one of the older ladies in that class to have a concussion. And I called the first person who came to mind; Chris Pedrick. He was there in a flash and took over the situation like a seasoned professional. Within minutes the EMTs were there and thankfully the woman was ok, but Chris let me have it, big time. He yelled at me for demonstrating such a lack of responsibility. I felt terrible for the injury I caused as well as for letting my teacher down and I remember walking around Colorado Springs aimlessly the rest of the afternoon. When I didn’t know what else to do, I called the first person who came to mind; Chris Pedrick. The same man who yelled at me several hours earlier, comforted me and told me that we all make mistakes and that I needed to learn from this one. I’ve carried that experience now for almost 40 years. Little did he know at the time, but Chris’s example of sternness and compassion was foundational in my learning how to be a father.
My experiences in the military and in martial arts were pivotal in my early years as a father. I knew very early on that I wanted my kids to grow up with a sense of strength, confidence and humility. And I am very much a “nurture” over “nature” kind of guy. I think a lot of this stuff about kids being born a certain way is a bunch of crap. We are all products of the environment we grow up in, even if that environment makes you want to grow up and live a totally different life. Knowing this, and with the example I had from guys like Chris, I raised my kids in a very disciplined home. A military home. And now when the three of us are together, we laugh at the times I sent their friends home for saying innocuous words like, “nards” or “nads” or “balls.” They remind me that while other kids had normal pillow fights, they were taught how to use their pillows like an actual weapon because, you know, that’s what you do. They tell others with pride that while some families didn’t necessarily stop and face the direction of the flag during the sound of “Retreat” on base, we always did. Our conversations typically revolve around the same themes; discipline, martial arts, trampoline wars, mud ball fights, and their mom.
Love is an investment. And while the nature of that love is different among friends, parents and children, husband and wife, you have to be willing to give a piece of yourself. Your time, your attention, your emotion, etc. Some times, you have to make a judgement call and take a risk that may alienate you from the people you love most. That’s what tough love is. There were times when they disappointed me and times when I let them down. Moments when I used a little too much discipline and they, perhaps, didn’t quite show enough. Terri and I thankfully taught them to think for themselves, to follow their own faith or none at all. We didn’t want clones; we wanted happy kids, confident in the fact that we loved them no matter what. No matter what they did or didn’t do, who they married or what kind of job they had. We invested ourselves into them. We didn’t look the other way when they made mistakes, but instead taught them how their actions or inaction affected other people. Something that Chris demonstrated to me more than once.
And what happens when you grow children up with tough love? They become tough adults, not just physically, but emotionally and albeit, spiritually. The investment you make in them comes back to you 10 fold, not unlike what happens in the story of Job, if you are familiar. Love has to be tough if it is to be sustained, especially in a world that seems to pride itself on money, looks and gratification.
Tough love lasts through tough times, through happy times and through sad times. It is present when a child has to be taught consequences. It abounds when we gather around a backyard fire or a Christmas Tree. It is the courage of a friend to acknowledge that you need a course correction. It pulls you through when you have to tell your kids that their mom is gone. It is the unbreakable bond that holds us together.
Tough love is the only way to love.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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