Pride - Integrity - Guts

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It was in Those Days that my bicycle was stolen.  A red 3-speed Schwinn, and I was the first one in my family to ever have gotten a brand new bike.  It was so tall that I could barely ride it.  I loved it and oiled the crank and wheel hubs regularly.

I ran what must have been several miles home to tell my mother about my bike.  As we drove the neighborhood talking to the store clerk and anyone else whom would talk, it began to set in that I would never see that beautiful thing I got as a gift for my birthday.  And I knew I would never get another one soon.

It wasn't long after we returned home that Mom found me hiding under my bed, crying.  She coaxed me out, sat me on her lap, and we cried together.  It wasn't long before she shook me a bit, told me to stop crying (although she kept on), and made me stand before her.

And she told me to have Pride.  To be proud.  That proud people never cried for themselves because they could overcome any setback.  She promised that I would recover from any sorrow that could ever happen to me, but that was not so for the suffering others might have.  My Mom was crying only for me.  And I knew she had Pride.

And she told me to have Integrity.  To be honest, to speak the truth, and do the right thing - always.

And she told be to have Guts.  To have the courage to defend the innocent and condemn the guilty. To mean what I said and make good on any promise I might make.  And to admit my wrongs, and correct my mistakes.

Pretty heavy stuff for a boy of ten.  And who would have known that I would encounter those same three words, over a decade later, and in a much different world.  And they stood in my mind as vivid as when that day I first heard them.

Pig.