to help those who need the help to be their best self.

My son is thinking of making a podcast of an interview with Ralph. The two really connected.

Not to brag, but I'd like to think I helped my boy prepare for this ..... twice when I've growled, "I'm okay, leave me alone!" other family members have called him, and he's carried me out to his vehicle, taken me to the ER, and waited patiently while I was having emergency surgery.

NYS Golden Gloves champion -- light heavyweight, cruiserweight, and heavyweight. Since hanging up the gloves, he runs these crazy 32-mile races. He thinks he's funny when he comes here, puts 120 lbs of weight on his back, and sprints around my (large) lawn, yelling, "C'mon old man! I'll get you in shape!"

Are the races challenging in any other way? Timing, obstacles, tricky areas? Just curious.
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Now, I have total respect for runners a d race walkers! For a bunch of years I'd go down to the entrance of Central Park right near the end of the of race to cheer on the very last part.

Obstacles, sometimes some swimming, and running up dirt paths in the rain. He always comes in at or near first in his age group and overall. It's curious, because when he boxed, he did most of his conditioning on these fancy gym machines, rather than doing his roadwork on the old dirt roads that my brother & I did long ago when we boxed.

I'm just glad that he doesn't box any more. And not only because he was too much like my brother -- get hit in a fight, and defense was out the door. "That didn't hurt" doesn't matter to the judges. My brother took more punches in 87 fights than I did in 329. But all the old fighters of my generation agreed that my boy was the hardest puncher this region ever produced. Even in sparring .... the last session before the finals one year, he was sparring his cousin, who won the super heavyweight title three days later. He dropped his cousin with body shots a couple times, and I had to stop it early. The top promoter of amateur boxing in upstate NY used to joke about how many guys came up with excuses not to fight him.

It's not that he won every fight. In his last loss, which was in the finals of the gloves one year, he was ahead on all three judges' cards. But he got clipped -- hard -- and I can tell everything I need to know by a fighter's legs. Despite my cousin assisting me in the corner yelling, "What the fuck are you doing?" I got up and threw in the towel. Much of the crowd booed me. My son was furious. But 30 minutes later, he could not remember what had happened. One punch can do real damage. I wanted him to hang it up then, but the next year he talked me into one more tournament, which he won with no problem. After that, his son was born, and the entire focus of his life changed.

Equally unsettling was when my 105 lb daughter started boxing in Boston. Yikes! And she was good, but I wasn't happy. She thought I would be, in part because she competed out of the last gym that Rubin visited. She said she wanted to make me proud. I said that I was proud that her employment in Boston included working in a law office on immigration, teaching part-time at the college, and working for the state attorney general. I wasn't impressed with that boxing club's trainer, and when I would see my daughter and a few of her teammates, I would show them things they never learned in Boston. (My daughter, who now lives in Europe with her husband and baby girl, will be here for a visit next week.)

At this point in life, I both love and hate boxing. I've trained amateur and pro fighters, with every amateur I trained since 1975 winning at least one Golden Gloves titles. Zero losses in the pro ranks. After my son's last fight, I was asked to be a co-trainer for the nationals team. Years ago, I'd have loved that. But my heart was no longer in it. So these days, I prefer races!

A number of family members fought in WW2. But none of them really ever spoke about their experiences. So this was the first time my son heard stories from a gentleman who joined the military two weeks before he was supposed to graduate from high school. He made a huge impression on my son, and apparently, my son made one on him.

Complete with a great song.- thanks for the smile

has a connection with Senator Robert Kennedy being murdered, around this time in 1968. Plus it is a heck of a song, if not actually about a firearm.

When my son asked 100 year old Ralph what he would say to people today, he said, "Plant gardens, and do everything you can to survive the tough times coming our way."

I will admit that every time I have come in for a break from lawn & garden work, I watch Ms. Welker's interview with the felon. She played that boy. I've got to respect that. And my son is a good man. I love watching him with my 3-year old grandson Cassius.

Really hope to see/hear his podcast. He did good.

You did OK too. haha

PS- Boxing is a martial art.

I'm telling my son not to wait to record an interview with Ralph. I know from my work with a few area historical societies that it is essential to do so right away, and not put it off. There are opportunities in life that only come your way once, for a brief time.

I did the best I could as a father, and I tell my two kids with little children they can improve on that. That I have lived my life the way I have, so that they can live their's the way they do. All four are really good people.

I was glad that my son did retire from the ring. He accomplished more than enough. There were top fighters, including a former heavyweight champion, and a legendary trainer of champions, who wanted to train & manage him, but it is a tough sport. My oldest brother died as the result of taking so many punches -- especially in fights he won. Marvis Frazier, son of Smokin' Joe, used to drive up from Philly to help me train him.

You must be so proud.

I am proud of him! What he did yesterday really sums up what kind of man he is.