If you are interested drop me an email at SantaFeCoach@MSN.com
(This is another entry in The Testosterone Testimonials, a fund raising project sponsored by the Santa Fe Rape Crisis & Trauma Treatment Center. In their testimonials men related their experiences in growing up male in today's society.)
Good evening, my name is Albert Angelety, recently here from New Orleans. A refugee to be precise and grateful for the warm welcome to the Santa Fe “way.”
The measure of a man is what this event is about. Most of us get four golden opportunities to conduct ourselves as men. I call them The Big Four.
First Chance: as a son. Being first born gave me an advantage over my siblings and I did apply myself to being the prince. My earliest male lessons were due to my four sisters. I could never smack them or do anything else painful and that’s what we were taught females are never to be thumped on. Period. Case closed.
Second Chance: as a brother. My two younger brothers always knew I was the big brother because I didn’t let them forget it unless they were asleep. Not quite a true dictator but not too far from it.
Third Chance: as a father. I’m much too immature to be a parent since I believe kids should never get hit or screamed at, or ignored, so… apparently, I still have a lot to learn.
My father was my hero until I learned to deceive him on a regular basis. He just got dumber and dumber as I got older. He worked as a carpenter but that’s all he had in common with Jesus. Not neglectful or any way abusive but a bit indifferent.
As a teenager I was allowed to secretly smoke his brand and drink his beer. He would tell a lie for us. A couple of my cousins and me were antagonizing an old man and one of us was shot in the butt. We told Pops and he invented an instant lie about us being too close to a notorious bar and the whole family believed us.
He did encourage me to not be a follower or what he called a “Yes” man. And he was very firm on doing my best the first time. However, he would also hit on my girlfriends. “You like my son, try the original.” That taught me to never underestimate my friends.
He had friends from many ethnic backgrounds and I was taught never to judge anyone by that. He also had many wonderful tools and devices he taught me to use and take care of.
Mom made her contributions as well. She was all about praise and maternal goodness; an old school Mom. I moved out on my 17th birthday and then my mother gave me a key to the house.
Fourth Chance: as a husband. I wouldn’t know about that from personal experience but I have heard the rumors. Now has husbands go, there are married men and just guys who got married. Who do things that married men never do -- remove or hide that wedding ring, cheat and lie about it; victimize women and children and many other stupid husband tricks.
It’s good to be king of your castle, boys, but you can’t crown yourselves. Just guys can do that, their word is the law in their households. You fellas who think you’re Big Stuff and fling your weight around behind closed doors -- put yourself in check. As men we have certain inescapable responsibilities.
We cannot show moments of weakness and demand that our family and friends disregard it. Just “guys” do that, not men.
So, to you men with training wheels (and you know who you are) try very hard to get it right. Don’t make us all look bad.
Before I came here I living in a FEMA trailer on my driveway for 18 months after Hurricane Katrina. All I lost was stuff but I lost most of it. Others lost a lot more than stuff, so I can’t legitimately complain. These days instead of painting my house I now paint them here in Santa Fe. But, I maintain an attitude of gratitude. I try to keep the regrets to a minimum and I play whatever hand I’m dealt. That way, at least, I get to stay in the game.
Thank you.
Albert Angelety and Cooper Lee Bombardier
at rehearsals for The Testosterone Testimonials.
Albert Angelty was born in New Orleans. He was in the U.S. Air Force until the age of 21 and then migrated to the West Coast and worked as a house painter. He backpacked throughout Europe and North Africa for a year, returned to Los Angeles and began a career as a Hollywood lighting technician at MetroMedia (now Fox). He took a leave of absence in 1980 to work at the World's Fair. Three years later he returned to Fox and stayed for more than 20 years. He left Hollywood in 2003 and returned to New Orleans to enjoy and early retirement. Hurricane Katrina changed everything for Albert. Evacuated back to Los Angeles he stayed for three months but returned to Louisiana to live in a FEMA trailer for 18 months. He was invited to Santa Fe last summer.
His role models are Cassius Clay, John F. Kennedy, Jimi Hendrix, Pele and Medgar Evers.
(This is another entry in The Testosterone Testimonials, a fund raising project of the Santa Fe Rape Crisis and Trauma Treatment Center. The intent of this project is to expand the public conversation concerning men in our community and through that welcome new leaders and role models.
To all who know him, Bobby Gonzales is "a good man.")
You know being a man is not difficult at all, you just have to be able to lead different groups of people, in particular your own family, and have those around you know who is in charge and head of the family.
Being a man means that you must be able to watch loved ones pass away from this earth and not shed a tear. It also means not having to ask for assistance in decisions involving the family at any time is another important thing. But, these only pale in comparison to a man’s ability to sustain injury, even broken bones and not flinch in pain or shed tears.
Yes, those are all excellent qualities of being a man... but sadly, I am not that type of man, for I do shed tears when a loved one dies. I also have the nasty habit of asking for opinions and input in family matters, and the worst part is, that I also grimace and let out cries of pain when I hurt myself in my daily activities, of being a “good man”.
I find it a greater joy in wiping the tears away from loved ones and friends than being the cause of them.
"The road is long
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go..."
The Hollies, 1969
Nothing makes me feel more like a man than holding a scared or injured child and making them feel safe, or having loved ones greet me with hugs and kisses instead of just shaking the hand of the so-called leader.
You see, the true measure of a man is not how many people he controls, but rather how many people allow him into their world and seek his advice.
When I talk about people, I mean family, friends and loved ones, as all of these people make up the world as we know it and how we interact with their worlds determines how much of a man we are really looked upon as.
Being a "good man" involves even thing like pets: Are they your property or are they part of your family, for if you treat a pet like of possession, it is not too far fetched that you will also begin to treat your loved ones as property also?
I have never been ashamed to cry at the loss of a loved one or a dear pet, nor do I find I need to explain why. Suffice to say that I feel much better when I do, for after all, if you loved them, then show you cared and will miss them.
Emotions are like air in a balloon: you have to let them out, otherwise, the balloon cannot hold it all in and must release the pressure, then men, like balloons, will simply burst and that is not a pretty picture.
Being a man and not showing happiness, sadness, or pain is not what should be used to measure a man but rather decide what is lifeless and uncaring.
For no matter who or what you are, someone out there loves you and will miss you, but if you do not show kindness, understanding, acceptance and love to those around you, then you have missed out on a big part of the world and those who make it worth living.
It has been said that if you lead with your heart, you will be wrong 8 out of every 10 times. But if you lead with your head, you will be wrong only 2 out of every 10 times.
It would be so simple if the world could be like that: right and wrong, black and white, good and evil but it isn’t, so I opt to mix and use both my heart and head to lead the way, for I know that the people who depend on me to lead them would like it that way for then, how can you be wrong?
And, if you are wrong, it is simpler to correct that mistake than if it is done with authoritarian-like decision making.
Give me people who like me and respect me over people who fear me any day. For, like people I was in charge of in Viet Nam and in my police career, they will march through the doors of Hell alongside of you, because they know you were right and just in your decisions.
When you show love, compassion, understanding and treat family, loved ones and acquaintances as you would like to be treated, difficult decisions will be easier to handle or just fall by the wayside.
THAT IS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE A MAN.
His role models are: Billy Graham, Gandhi, George Patton and Steve Allen.
John Grubesic's role models are: Al Grubesic (father), Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Crazy Horse and Brett Farve.
This project was straightforward and focused on an accurate portrayal of who we are as men and how we got to be where we are. Simple enough…my progress in life thus far can be summed up as follows: I have no friggin’ idea.
I have dealt with men for 42 years. I find us to be much less interesting than the female side of our society and yes it is probably for all of the politically incorrect reasons. I have known jocks, queers, politicians, cops, criminals, priests and bartenders, great intellects, and complete idiots. I have found men to be incredibly self-important and motivated by one thing: their own well being. I include myself in this group.
The man that stands before you was melded together out of fear, courage, hate, love, lust, pride, sorrow, pain, imperfection, and a lot of other stuff... both good and bad.
I grew up in a town where from the first day of first grade I knew I was an outsider, an invader, that I was not wanted, and that I would never be accepted. Santa Fe is mired in many layers of racism and hatred. Any attempt to change this will only come with a great shift in perspective and a significant investment of time. Time I am no longer willing to give.
In Santa Fe, you can be hated for being white, not white
enough, brown, the wrong shade of brown, black, Asian, Native American,
Mexican…or just different. You can be hated for being too rich, too poor, not
rich enough, not poor enough, too smart, too dumb, or for trying to become
smart. Dumb people get nervous when they see others trying to improve their
lives. Santa Fe is a melting pot set on Boil. We all came from somewhere else
and brought every piece of cultural, economic, educational, political, racial,
and religious baggage with us. I am a product of this community. My makeup as a
man is as fractured as the place I grew up in. I have a chip on my shoulder
that I will carry to my grave. A chip that allowed me to survive. A chip that
was broken from my humanity. A chip
that defines me as a man.
The first day of first grade, I got my butt kicked for
having blond hair. I got beat up regularly. Racism was one of the first lessons
I learned in school and one that was continually reinforced as I grew up. Throughout
my life I have been called a gringo, by everyone from coaches to judges to a governor,
even my first girlfriend's mother. I went to a school close to the projects and
before I even opened my mouth I was hated. I didn't understand why, and I felt
alone and scared. I knew I looked different and I hated looking that way.
I developed an accent to help me fit in. I still have it. I remember going to law school in Denver and feeling stupid and having to explain why I sounded like I did. How completely useless it was and how I felt ashamed for trying to be someone I wasn't. I still have to explain it today. Now that I don't have any hair I can almost pull it off. I was asked to join the Hispanic Caucus my first year in the New Mexico State Senate.
I remember I got tired of getting beat up. In seventh grade,
I met my best friend, a tough Hispanic kid who taught me how to fight. He was
the best street fighter I have ever seen. He did not seek out fights, he never
bragged, and he never postured. He taught me to make sure that within the first
second of a fight, the other person knew that I intended to hurt them and had
no qualms about hurting them. Hesitation gets you hurt. Do not waste time. Brutality
would save me from getting hurt…brutality would save my life. He told me to use
my first three punches to do as much damage as possible. Never wrestle, don't
go down on the ground, and do not stop until I was sure that the other guy
wasn't getting up. Hit anywhere and everywhere. Gouge, rip, bite. Good fighters
are not gentlemen and there is no code of honor. I ignored these rules once. The
knife in my stomach missed my femoral artery by a quarter of an inch.
I judge men on the “hit in the face standard.” Men who
haven't been hit in the face have a distorted view of the world and a false
sense of their value in it. An unearned arrogance based on false beliefs. Politics
is full of these fools. Men who have little grasp of the reality of life, but claim
to have all of the answers. Mike Tyson once said, “Everyone has a plan, until
they get hit in the face.” Men who have never been hit in the face are quick to
send others to fight for them, rarely think about the impacts of their actions,
and do not listen to any viewpoint that contradicts theirs.
I have had my nose broken at least three times and fixed
once. Getting it fixed hurt more than when it was broken. My front six teeth
are veneers that cover reminders of times when I was just a little too slow. My
hands hurt when it gets cold. A doctor took x-rays and showed me tiny fractures
that have healed over and over. I still have a lot of unresolved anger, pain,
and confusion. I have no particular interest in where I am going, who you are
or what your story is. I care about my kids, my wife, and about making sure
that they never get hurt or get in a single fight in their life.
I am a man, whatever that means.
I have made mistakes, I have been beaten, and I have been damaged.
I am a composite of broken pieces, pieces that have been scooped up and glued back together. Some pieces don't fit and were discarded or became useless.
However, every piece was earned. Every piece rests on the chip that broke off of my humanity.
I have no answers and I offer no advise other than the only insight that has made any sense to me:
Do
not hesitate: hesitation
will get you hurt."
Footnote:
| “ | My friend, I do not blame
you for this. Had I listened to you this trouble would not have
happened to me. I was not hostile to the white men. Sometimes my young
men would attack the Indians who were their enemies and took their
ponies. They did it in return. We had buffalo for food, and their hides
for clothing and for our teepees. We preferred hunting to a life of
idleness on the reservation, where we were driven against our will. At
times we did not get enough to eat and we were not allowed to leave the
reservation to hunt. We preferred our own way of living. We were no
expense to the government. All we wanted was peace and to be left
alone. Soldiers were sent out in the winter, they destroyed our
villages. The "Long Hair" [Custer] came in the same way. They say we
massacred him, but he would have done the same thing to us had we not
defended ourselves and fought to the last. Our first impulse was to
escape with our squaws and papooses, but we were so hemmed in that we
had to fight. After that I went up on the Tongue River with a few of my
people and lived in peace. But the government would not let me alone.
Finally, I came back to the Red Cloud Agency. Yet, I was not allowed to
remain quiet. I was tired of fighting. I went to the Spotted Tail
Agency and asked that chief and his agent to let me live there in
peace. I came here with the agent [Lee] to talk with the Big White
Chief but was not given a chance. They tried to confine me. I tried to
escape, and a soldier ran his bayonet into me. I have spoken. Chief Crazy Horse |
” |
The Testosterone Testimonials were designed as a cultural investment in our community. The producer, David Christal, wants to expand and encompass a greater understanding of men. "The Testosterone Testimonials are a provocative, exciting and original production that will make you rethink what it is to be born male in our society," Christal said. "The idea is to take 'the measure of a man' through the eyes of men from diverse backgrounds, cultures and ages."
Abdullah Muharram was born in 1945 in Virginia.
"I spent my childhood and early teens growing up during the ‘50s, a time in America when the South was legally segregated. I spent most of my life in Buffalo and the Bronx in N.Y.C. While these neighborhoods were integrated, racism still existed. This was one of the first things I realized while still a boy. This was the era of the civil rights movement and many white people stood side-by-side with African Americans, Negroes or colored people, as we were called back then, in the fight for racial equality. It’s clear no matter what a person’s race, when they stand up for what is morally and ethically right, it’s also clear what a white supremacist stands for. At least you know!
Ethnically, I am African American, Irish, and Cherokee. I have great respect, honor, and love for my Irish grandfather and I’m proud of my Irish and Cherokee heritage. But, I’m not going to tell anyone that I’m an Irishman or that I’m a member of the Cherokee Nation. A lot of young people today, when asked about race will say, “I’m multi-ethnic,” or if their father is white, will claim their father’s ethnic heritage, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. They have the right! I happened to be born at a time when, if you had any trace of African blood, you were considered black! So, I have always considered myself to be a black man, and proud of it!
I have been outraged when people I thought were cool made racist remarks in my presence, thinking I was Hispanic or white. The last time something like this happened was right here in Santa Fe. I know racism is still a sensitive subject in America, and most people would rather not deal with it. But, after 400 years of it, there is a need for honest dialogue so that the country can begin to heal. And, in spite of the things that are wrong with our country, I believe America still has the potential to be the greatest nation that ever existed!
The single event that affected my life, more than anything else, would be Vietnam! At 20 years old, my induction notice arrived from Uncle Sam. So, I decided I would join the military, rather than be drafted. I decided to become what I thought being a real soldier meant. I would be a rifleman in the infantry, a paratrooper, and a ranger. All these things I did become. I think most people who served would agree that once basic training and advanced training are over and you arrive at your duty station, the military is a fairly easy gig as long as orders and the chain of command are followed. Everyone lives in a little city, with no unemployment. Being in the infantry, my job was about playing war games. At 21, bivouacking in the woods of North Carolina, training in the hills of Georgia and the swamps of Florida, and jumping out of airplanes was fun! But the fun wouldn’t last long!
There was a war going on in Vietnam and a lot of airborne infantrymen were dying. They had to be replaced! I arrived in the country on June 5th, 1967, serving with the 100 First Airborne Division, First Brigade, Second Battalion, 502nd Infantry. I stayed at base camp for orientation 5 days, was then put on a chopper and taken to my unit that was on a search and destroy mission. I never saw Division Headquarters again. From the day I jumped off that helicopter and joined my unit in the field, it was one search and destroy mission after another. There was only a 2 or 3-day stand down in between.
When I was in Vietnam, I never thought I would die there although every operation people were always wounded, people always died. But, I never thought it would be me. Obviously, I didn’t die, but on November 6, 1967, I was wounded in combat. Still, it was hard to believe that rounds from an automatic weapon had ripped my calf apart. The end result: an above the knee amputation to stop the spread of gangrene infection.
So, at 22, I’m thinking life is over! How am I going to work? What are women going to think of me? The only one-leg men I had ever seen were sitting in wheel chairs with a tin cup, begging for change. Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to understand there was nothing wrong with my brain. I still had the capacity to learn and do most of the things I wanted. The thing that was far more destructive was the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the nightmares, anxiety, depression, and bad memories. The VA was not providing any medication that worked. So, I started self-medicating with heroin. It seemed to be the only thing that worked. For the next 25 years, I battled that white powder mountain. I’ll leave it at that! There’s no need for the horror stories. But, it wasn’t all bad. I had a loving and supportive family through it all. I also helped raise three wonderful daughters.
There’s something extremely important that I haven’t talked
about, and that would be music. Since the age of 12, to this day, music has
lifted my spirit and brought joy to my heart. For me, it’s never been about
money or fame. Whether I’m listening, practicing or playing, music always
brings a certain amount of joy and peace. The spirituality of music has been
with me in my darkest hours and helped me through my hardest times.
I moved to Santa Fe in September, 1997,
to study Chinese
medicine. That didn’t
quite work out. I also remarried and
divorced. But, my
ex-wife is my
best friend and the most reliable,
responsible person I know.
A few years ago, I was diagnosed
with prostate cancer.
The surgery was successful and I am blessed to say I’m doing well.
So, I’ve dodged a lot of bullets and survived many things.
But life is not just about being a survivor. I’ve had plenty of excitement, fun, joy, and love in my lifetime. After all these years, I still have hope, belief, and faith in humanity."
Abdullah"s role models are: Malcolm X, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther Kind, Jr., John Coltrane and Thurgood Marshall. He was a member of the Creative Improvisational Ensemble, Al-Mujazzah, which played periodically from the mid-60s through the late 80s. The group worked clubs, colleges and universities throughout Ontario, Canada, Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York state.
He also worked as a jazz announcer, concert promoter and assistant director for jazz programming for a the public radio station, WBFO-FM in Buffalo, NY. He has also written articles for the syndicated music publication, Buffalo Jazz Report.
He studied music at Villa Maria College and the State University of New York at Buffalo. He occasionally worked as a jazz announcer for KSFR-FM in Santa Fe, NM and has performed in Albuquerque.
Summer Classes for Men
at
THE ADULT LEARNING CENTER
REGISTRATION MUST BE COMPLETED
by Friday, August 17th 2008
NOTE: DUE TO THE COMPLEXITY AND DIFFICULTY LEVEL
OF THEIR CONTENTS, CLASS SIZES WILL BE LIMITED TO 8 PARTICIPANTS MAXIMUM
Class 1
How To Fill Up The Ice Cube Trays--Step by Step, with Slide Presentation.
Meets 4 weeks, Monday and Wednesday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM.
Class 2
The Toilet Paper Roll--Does It Change Itself?
Round Table Discussion.
Meets 2 weeks, Saturday 12:00 for 2 hours.
Class 3
Is It Possible To Urinate Using The Technique Of Lifting The Seat and Avoiding The Floor, Walls and Nearby Bathtub?--Group Practice.
Meets 4 weeks, Saturday 10:00 PM for 2 hours.
Class 4
Fundamental Differences Between The Laundry Hamper and The Floor--Pictures and Explanatory Graphics.
Meets Saturdays at 2:00 PM for 3 weeks.
Class 5
Dinner Dishes--Can They Levitate and Fly Into The Kitchen Sink?
Examples on Video.
Meets 4 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM
Class 6
Loss Of Identity--Losing The Remote To Your Significant Other.
Help Line Support and Support Groups.
Meets 4 Weeks, Friday and Sunday 7:00 PM
Class 7
Learning How To Find Things--Starting With Looking In The Right Places And Not Turning The House Upside Down While Screaming.
Open Forum
Monday at 8:00 PM, 2 hours.
Class 8
Health Watch--Bringing Her Flowers Is Not Harmful To Your Health
Graphics and Audio Tapes.
Three nights; Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7:00 PM for 2 hours.
Class 9
Real Men Ask For Directions When Lost--Real Life Testimonials.
Tuesdays at 6:00 PM Location to be determined
Class 10
Is It Genetically Impossible To Sit Quietly While She Parallel Parks?
Driving Simulations.
4 weeks, Saturday's noon, 2 hours.
Class 11
Learning to Live--Basic Differences Between Mother and Wife.
Online Classes and role-playing
Tuesdays at 7:00 PM, location to be determined
Class 12
How to be the Ideal Shopping Companion
Relaxation Exercises, Meditation and Breathing Techniques.
Meets 4 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM.
Class 13
How to Fight Cerebral Atrophy--Remembering Birthdays, Anniversaries and Other Important Dates and Calling When You're Going To Be Late.
Cerebral Shock Therapy Sessions and Full Lobotomies Offered.
Three nights; Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7:00 PM for 2 hours.
Class 14
The Stove/Oven--What It Is and How It Is Used.
Live Demonstration.
Tuesdays at 6:00 PM, location to be determined.
Upon completion of any of the above courses, diplomas will be issued to the survivors.
Personally, there was always an irony that the idea and the name for The Testosterone
Testimonials came from a woman. However, when you consider the woman is Dr. Barbara Goldman there is little need for explanation. To fall into the sphere of influence of
Barbara is to begin to discover your own potential. And she will be the first to deflect the realization back to you.As Executive Director of The Santa Fe Rape Crisis & Trauma Treatment Center for more than 16 years she is the first to recognize the voices of men
need to be heard but more importantly she
is willing to listen."Besides," she told me, "It could be fun."
William Siegal's role models are: Roberto Clemente, Arthur Ashe, Burt Glinn, John F. Kennedy, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
" Billy, have your testicles fallen yet?", my mother asked me from across the room."
What! I said, not knowing if I had heard her right. She then repeated herself in a very quiet tone as if it was the most natural question in the world.
I said, "have your testicles fallen yet?" Yep, that’s what she had said," I was shocked! “What did you say?” I said trying desparately to buy some time before I had to answer.
Fifty years later I can still feel the overwhelming shame I felt then as an ten year old. Just hearing my mother say the word testicles, let alone having to discuss them with her, made me cringe with discomfort.
Even if I had had functioning testicles what kid wants to be asked by his mother if he has them?
It was like the term bowel movement. Whenever my mother, or even worse, my aunt would ask "Did you have a bowel movement?" I wanted to shout: "It’s none of your damned business when I take a shit.."
Sure, I knew what testicles were but, I was still only a kid and only men had testicles..
My mothers' question caught me off guard and made me completely defensive. Why are you asking me this, I thought? Should they have fallen? And, if so, how far should they have fallen? Where exactly were they supposed to fall to? Worse, maybe... I had done something that had kept them from falling?
After a very long silence I mumbled ... ”Ahhh, I don't think so”. “Hmmm” she replied, "I guess we better see Dr Michaels.:"
That was the first good news I had heard in this conversation.
Dr Bernie Michaels was a great doctor who made frequent visits to our home at the first sign of a strep throat or any other sickness that my twin sister or I ever came down with. Dr Michaels was there whenever we needed him, day or night. He was kind and caring and I always started to feel better the second he walked into my bedroom. I liked him so much I thought I might even be able to talk to him about my still undiscovered testicles.
During the next few days I quizzed my best friends Bobby and Bruce about the subject of balls. They were both a year older and had fathers. They were more than happy to go on about the subject, proving once again, how much more worldly they were than me.
The Testosterone Testimonials, a performance held on May 24, 2008, was a fundraiser for the Santa Fe Rape Crisis & Trauma Treatment Center.
The idea was to explore the male experience through the words of men from diverse backgrounds, cultures and ages. For the first time men took to the public stage to reveal their complicated interior lives.
Michael Hall started keeping a journal when he was twelve. He had his first out of body experience during a high school football game but he didn't lose his virginity until his third year of college. He disliked practicing law in New York for twelve years.
After moving to New Mexico in 1992, publishing two books and completing two national book signing tours, he waited tables and worked as a night watchman before becoming administrator of the state court system. He currently serves as Executive Director of the New Mexico Sentencing Commission, the state's Sex Offender Management Board and the Justice Information Sharing Council, which he chairs.
----------------------------
The Testosterone Testimonials were held on May 24, 2008 in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The event was sponsored by the Santa Fe Rape Crisis & Trauma Treatment Center. The only criteria was to relate our experience as men. The Testimonials were presented by 14 men from within the community. Below is my Testimonial and in the next few days other Testimonials will be published.