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By Root 1055 0

wearing a pretty red dress. The little girl couldn’t have been more than ten years old. The mother explained that her daughter was a huge fan of my show and wanted to meet me after she heard that I had said a very bad word. She said they saved up for three weeks to buy the young girl’s dress so she’d have something pretty to wear when she met me. Later that night, someone told me they had actually saved up for months. I said hello to the little girl and told her how sorry I was for what I had said. She looked up at me, with a big ol’ smile and simply said, “I love you and forgive you, Dog.”

My heart melted on the spot and tears streamed down my cheeks. I was so worried I had disappointed this child—that she wouldn’t understand why Uncle Dog used the bad word he did. I was ready to explain myself to her if need be, but she never asked for explanations. Her innocence, love, and acceptance showed me the great power in forgiveness—especially from a child. I will take her love and acceptance with me for the rest of my days.

After my positive experiences with Roy Innis and CORE, I spent the next several months going on what Beth and I dubbed my “Apology Tour.” I knew I could change people’s minds if I was given the chance. I was being horribly misrepresented in the press, and it didn’t look like things were going to turn around unless I could convince people to give me a shot at redemption. If they could give me that, I was positive I would be in their hearts forever.

I attended several events, including holiday toy drives and drug awareness symposiums and town hall meetings, where I could give back to the community. I enjoyed getting out and talking with people at all of those events, but there was one local toy drive in Los Angeles I’ll never forget. I met a father and son who touched my heart. The father, who was not more than just a kid himself, told me he’d never been able to save enough money to buy his son a toy for Christmas. Of course, I thought back to my struggle in buying Tucker his My Buddy doll and remembered how I felt. The young dad went on to tell me his son had no toys at home.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I can’t believe I’m doing this, Dog. I’m reaching out to you, of all people,” he said.

All I could say was “Thank you.”

I hugged the father and then knelt down and put my hands out for his son. He was the real reason I was there that day. I wanted to show how much love I have in my heart for all people, but especially for those who are less fortunate, because I have been there myself. I will never forget those hungry years and I am reminded so often, now more than ever, that we are all the same.

I made a big spectacle out of the three us hanging out the rest of the day. I gave the young boy a toy truck I’d saved for one special kid. His face lit up with excitement as soon as he saw it. It was rewarding to be able to do something to brighten that young boy’s day. There’s nothing like the love you get from a child. It’s pure, authentic, and real. If enduring the difficult experiences that got me to the toy drive that day was the price I had to pay in order to meet a family like that father and son, then it was all worth it. I’d sit through a grilling on national television every day for a month just to get one smile, one hug, and one “thank you” like I did that day.

My new association with CORE allowed me to affect change in some very unexpected areas. I even found myself in a roundtable discussion with members of CORE, the NAACP, and the ACLU, defending a Hassidic Jewish police officer’s right to keep his beard because of his religious beliefs. I was stunned to hear that a police department was trying to force a good cop off the squad because of his facial hair, which is against department policy. After the ACLU applied enough pressure and threatened to go to court over the officer’s civil rights, the police chief agreed to let him stay on the force if he only worked undercover duty. In the end, the officer called me to say thank you because he could keep on doing what he loved—being a cop.

It wasn’t