My dad, I’ve always called him, “Dub” was a bad ass.
Maybe all sons think of their fathers that way. The thing is, my dad really was. He was strong in the way that a man becomes when he works hard on the farm, cutting wood, operating heavy machinery, building barbed wire fences, and raising watermelons. If that weren’t enough, Dub ran and lifted weights regularly.
He was physically powerful but not only that.
Dub wanted to learn to fight and to do so with real skill. He sought out a student of the great martial artist, Joe Lewis and said, “teach me to fight.”
