“Rocky’s a Girl!”
(Rocky is currently serving as a medic with the US Army in South Korea)
I was always the tough chick. I broke my mother’s rib before I was born, by squeezing my foot in just the right spot and kicking. I was a fighter from the moment of conception, and some things just never change. As an infant, I had a favorite toy- a red, plastic racoon that, to this day, I swear was a dog toy that my parents thought it amusing to see me play with. The white lettering across the raccoons belly read ‘Rocky’. As with any young child, it was hard to miss which was my favorite toy.
At age 2, being independent as I was, I went inside to get water while everyone was outside by a camp fire on the little farm. On my way back out to join the family, I tripped at the top of the stairs, face-planting into the dirt and gravel at the bottom. My Uncle Zoro (to this day, I can’t remember his real name) came and picked me up, dusted me off, and took me back to the family. Two days later, Mom noticed that there was a rock set into my forehead at my hairline. When she consulted the doctor on it, he assured her it would work itself out. My dad was the first one to respond with ‘LOOK! Now SHE’S Rocky, too!”
Nearly getting suspended from schoolin Kindergarden for beating up a boy who hit me didn’t discourage the name, any. The name stuck and, twenty years later, I finally had the rock removed. I had since joined the army, and it began bothering me for the first time when I had to wear a kevlar helmet during the final weeks of my training.
My dad still finds a great deal of pleasure in explaining all the crazy tomboy stories to his co-workers, and enjoys the looks on their face even more when they realize that, despite being the tough chick, he managed to raise quite a lady, too.