Little Bundle Superdad Scholarship — High School Award

I grew up in Southeast, Washington, DC and I have been raised by a single father. The media does not talk much about fathers raising their children, but even in a bad environment, my father sacrificed so much and did what it took to make sure I went to a great high school so that I can become the best in whatever I choose to do in life. I have had family members and close friends lose their lives to violence. There was crime, drugs, and poverty in my community, yet my father instilled values and a work ethic in me that goes beyond anything imaginable. Being raised by a single parent is difficult as many know. Being raised by your dad when most of your friends have their mothers in their lives is very, very tough as well. There were doubters about me going to a catholic high school. My father told me to trust myself and prove people wrong by my work ethic. By making the team, I became somewhat of a neighborhood star, especially with the younger kids being able to look up to me. I do not take anything for granted and I know that growing up in the community that I did will only continue to help me strive for more and more success. With my upbringing, I plan to become successful, whether in football or off the field, and come back to assist my community. Your community is where you have grown up as a young child, where you call home, and where you have most of your supporters. It is important to be involved because you can give others things to hope for. You can help by motivating the youth who look up to you. I have helped my community in multiple ways by helping in summer camps, tutoring, and mentoring foster care children at the National Center for Children and Families. In these venues, I have taught the younger children about football and the importance of academics and life outside of football. I attended a camp that taught me the fundamentals of entrepreneurship along with football skills. With that knowledge, I have tried to pass it along to others within my community. Where I am from in Southeast, Washington, DC, not too many people have made it this far by graduating high school and going on to college. This motivates me because I want the people of my community to have hope that someday they can make it to wherever their dreams take them. Through my future career, I plan to set up charities to help the recreational centers as well as the local school system. I was blessed with an opportunity to attend a private high school and I would love to give the youth in my community the opportunity to have some of the advantages even in the local public school system. I know my father's sacrifices to ensure that I attended my high school, but everyone will not have that opportunity. I believe that I can make a huge difference by giving back and helping to close that educational gap for those that cannot afford a private school education.

On being a man, Rudyard Kipling wrote. “… If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two imposters just the same…” He describes my dad perfectly. My earliest drawings had my dad stretched across the length of the paper. His legs were long and muscular. His hands were like big brass symbols. His feet were make-shift riding toys and his shoulders were like sitting stools. He was a former college football player. My dad was strong and could do anything! He was a smart, hardworking man who was actively involved in the church and in our community. I would stand in his study in awe of the man I called dad. He had plaques all over the walls, certificates and trophies were stuffed in boxes, championship rings and medals were displayed on the credenza. I remember asking Dad if he was the greatest man on the planet. He replied, “Great is relative. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” I had heard him say that at so many funerals; I rolled my eyes (in my mind). I felt like dad had just used a scripture to dodge a heart-felt question. My dad was built with a hammer and nails. He was the strongest man I knew. Thinking back, he did have some small ailments back then, but he looked to his faith and assured my brother and me that everything would be okay. The walls came tumbling down on the last day of school of my fourth-grade year. It was Memorial Day weekend and I was going to spend the summer in Georgia with my grandma. Dad got hurt at work! He had some chronic conditions, but they were well-managed. The added stress of a new injury precipitated a downward spiral that had him in and out of the hospital. Each new visit was longer than the previous one. That big, strong dad of mine pushed through pain and sickness to provide for my brother and me. He had his first stroke on Christmas Day when I was in ninth grade and fought his way right back to health. He was not the same, but he was still a massive man with a commanding presence. He was diagnosed with a nerve condition the next year, and his vision began to suffer from it and his walking became unsteady. He could still do the work of two men even as he sat. My dad was a different dad, but he was still the Rock of Gibraltar in our family. The nerve condition affected his digestion, and by the following year, he had lost over one hundred-thirty pounds and was too weak to get up without assistance. He sat in his motorized wheelchair most of the day and slept most of the time. He was hurting physically, emotionally and noticeably. I watched a giant shrink in stature and in abilities. Last year, his kidneys stopped working and he had three more strokes while driving home from dialysis. Now, he commits his time to researching cures for everything and raising money for charities and foundations that assist persons with chronic ailments. My dad says, "God doesn't give all of this to just anybody, so I do what I can do and leave the rest to Him." I button his shirts and tie his bowties. My brother helps with socks and shoes. Dad still cooks and checks homework. He teaches Sunday School and directs the laity of thirteen churches. And he knows how to “drop the hammer” should we stray too far from the straight and narrow! The silver lining in this memory cloud is that goodness came from change. My dad is not the same. Now, he is more patient, deliberate and passionate about physical, emotional and spiritual health. As a family, we have learned how to do more with less – a lot less. Our finances are stretched. My dad allows us to be active participants in family economics. We prioritize, budget, save and sacrifice together. Somehow, Dad always finds a way. His faith reminds me to be bold in my faith. I would have never known how strong my dad really was until I watched his health decline and see him continually thank the Lord for the blessings within the calamity. I used to cry. Now, I just remember when and smile.