Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [42]
Whenever an extreme emergency hits, I reach out to Tim for advice and counseling. I know for sure that what God gives him about me is real, and I need to listen to what he has to say. No big decision is made in my life without first consulting my preacher.
When the “N” word debacle broke, I am proud to say Tim firmly stood by me. I told him I was planning to appear with Sean Hannity and Larry King to talk about what had happened. Unsure of what I planned to say, I asked Tim for his opinion of what message he thought I should convey during those interviews.
Tim began speaking like he was reading from the Bible. “I sayeth unto thee, open thy mouth and I shall fill it.”
I spent the next couple of days thinking about that advice, hoping and praying that the Lord knew what He wanted me to say on television, because I didn’t have a clue!
After talking to Tim, I wanted to reach out to my old cellmate from Huntsville, Whitaker. I tried to reach him all day but couldn’t track him down. So I did the next best thing and called his momma.
“Those sons of bitches,” she said. “Don’t they know you can use that word?”
I explained how I tried to tell everyone the same thing, but then she got quiet and said something so insightful. “Well, Dog. You’re out there in television land now, honey.” She wanted to support me as if I was her own son, but she knew I had messed up.
“I’m very sorry, Momma Whitaker.” That’s all I could say before I began to cry so hard that no more words came out of my mouth. I was so ashamed. Calling Momma Whitaker was worse than facing my own mother, because I knew deep down that I’d hurt her with my words.
Now seemed like as good a time as any to reach out and reconnect with Tony Robbins. I had spent years training with him, and I also sometimes spoke at his seminars. He has been one of the truly great teachers of my life. Since both our schedules had become so busy, Tony and I had lost contact over the past few years, though we try to touch base from time to time just to check in and see how the other is doing. Tony has got a lot of kudos coming to him because he helped change my entire way of thinking after I was released from prison.
I first met Tony in 1985 through my friend Keith Paul, an FBI special agent I befriended in Denver several years earlier. I liked Keith from the day we met. Despite his youthful appearance, Keith had a daunting presence. But I was never intimidated by him. We spoke the same language and we both liked to get things done.
One night, after a bust, we went to the White Spot diner, as we often did, to recap the evening’s events. Keith began telling me about a guy who’d come to the Academy to train all the agents in his office. He said this guy was just like me, except he used bigger words. Keith was insistent I meet him. “His name is Tony Robbins,” he gushed.
I had heard of Tony because of my exposure to motivational speakers while selling Kirby vacuums. I knew that guys like Tony changed people’s lives, but I had no idea how meaningful his lessons and insights would become in my own.
A few weeks later I received a call from Tony. I was stunned to hear his deep and very recognizable voice on the phone. He called to ask me if I’d be interested in coming to one of his upcoming seminars in Texas as a guest speaker.
Texas? Did he say Texas? The day I walked out of Huntsville, I swore I’d never step foot in Texas ever again.
“No way, buddy.” That was my firm and definitive answer.
Tony isn’t the type of guy who takes “no” sitting down.