Dana White, King of MMA

pulled up to one of the bays, got off his bike and went inside. He asked the owner for
a wrench to fix the wheel on his bike. He told the man it was squeaking and he
needed to fix it. At first, the people at the garage thought it was cute, until they
realized there was no adult with him. They brought Dana to the store, thinking his
parents were probably there, and soon everyone in the store and Laundromat were
outside asking Dana where he lived and how he got to the gas station by himself. I
could not believe that was where he had gone but I was so glad to have found him
safe.
Dana and I were halfway home, Dana riding his bike and I walking beside him
explaining to him that he could not go places on his own without me. It was a small
road we were on, more of a lane or large sidewalk than a road. It was where people
who lived in a dozen little cottages drove down to park their cars next to their
cottage. As I looked up from talking to Dana, I saw his father, who just happened to
have come home during the search, walking down the lane towards us. I gave him a
quick, little smile as an indication that all was well and Dana was fine. Instead of
being relieved that Dana was found and all right, he was angry, and as soon as he
reached us, he grabbed Dana by the arm, yanking him off his bike and began hitting
him. I grabbed Dana Sr., to stop him from striking Dana anymore and pulled Dana
away from him. No grown man should ever hit a child, especially in a fit of rage. He
should have been thankful that we found Dana and that he wasn’t hurt, but instead
he was so mad at him for leaving the yard he was out of control.
Unfortunately, Dana’s father was not Ward Clever (for those of you too young to
recognize that name, he was the father on a television show, Leave it to Beaver ).
Dana’s dad could not hold down a job for very long when we lived in Florida, and
because of that, money was extremely tight. When he did work, there were days he
would not come home, especially paydays, and by the time he showed up, most of the
money from his paycheck would be gone. He would sit in the bars drinking all night
and become too drunk to find his way home. He always promised it would not happen
again, but he was someone for whom promises meant nothing, and obviously neither
did we. There were days I would go without eating to make sure I had enough food
and milk in the house for Dana and his sister. I never knew when their father would