My
birth name is Thómas. I was born in 1962 in Bremen, Germany, where I
lived the first six years of my life. My mom and biological father
divorced back then, and my mom and I moved in with my grandparents in an
apartment. Nearby, behind the apartment was the “Parzellen” - these
little parcels of land, where people could put cabins and have a
vegetable garden.
Growing up, my elders would tell me to go out and play and like most
kids, I’d say “What should I do?” If they told me to ride my bike – I
did… all day long. Sometimes I would go all the way to the edge of
Bremen or close to the next town. Each and every time that I was gone
all day, my grandparents and family and neighbors would go out searching
for me all over the place. They didn't mean for me to leave for so
long, but I was adventurous, even then!
I remember going for walks in the "Burgerpark" (big park) with my
grandmother and grandfather. The park still had ruins of bombing bunkers
from WWII in it… My grandfather also took me on hikes, taught me how to
whistle, and gave me the love for the outdoors that I still have today.
Every fall we would go to Austria, to stay on a farm where I was
quickly recruited to bring the cows in every evening to get milked. I
even helped to deliver some piglets and a calf once. I was still six or
seven years old when the adults staged a wedding between me and the
farmer’s daughter. Sounds like a dream come true to some guys, I'm
sure. I remember she had lace curtains on her head for a veil… but it
was all pretty surreal to me.
About that time my mom met Wally – and they got married. After about a
year or so, he brought us to the US. We lived in California for about a
year. I was so upset with my family for moving me around all the time.
I didn’t know a word of English, except “yes” and “no.” The kids at
school were brutal and would make fun of me, chase me with fake machine
guns, calling me a Nazi, because I was German. At the same time, I'd
grown tired and was fed up with moving around all the time and trying to
learn new languages – even the cartoons were in English which I didn’t
speak… and I told my family, “that’s it, I’m leaving.” I made a
backpack out of a wooden box. I ran a rope thru the top and bottom. I
went off into the Orange Groves (back when there were orange groves in
Orange County, CA), until it got dark, and then I went home.
Despite my protests, Wally's job required that we move around. It
seemed we would never settle in any one place. It wasn't long before we
moved again - this time back to Europe – first to Belgium, where I had
to take the bus to Brussels to the American school, which was a three
hour journey each day, round trip. We lived in this apartment building
that was surrounded by farm country. I would take off and disappear
into the fields for hours at a time. From there we moved to Milan, Italy
– where again I was bussed to an American school… then we moved back to
Germany – this time to Wetze.
One night, while living in Wetze, we drove to Switzerland for the
weekend and went out to dinner. I was young and tired of dinner and
begged to leave the table. They let me go outside, but I heard cow
bells, and became determined to find a cow. About two hours later I
came back hiking down the hill and the entire Swiss village was looking
for me! My parents had finished their dinner, and were frantic. They
said, “we told you to go outside and do something. We didn’t mean to
hike up to the top of the Matterhorn, or something!”
Then
finally, we moved back to the United States, and back to Southern
California. By this time I was in about the fifth grade. I spoke
Italian, French, German and English, (the Italian and French I quickly
forgot).
Though I spoke broken English and had a thick accent at first, I found
my niche by playing sports. One day the kids at school and I played
kick ball, and because I was the German kid, I was picked last. They
had no idea of how much I'd kicked the ball around in Europe – because
soccer (or fusebal) is what everyone does there. So, back in the US,
once I started playing and the kids saw I could really kick, I became
the first pick every single time.
 I
went on to play soccer competitively, and played for a semi-professional
team in Southern California until one fateful night, when my soccer
career ended abruptly.
I was a sophomore in college and worked at a restaurant called Bobby
McGees. One night after my shift, a group of coworkers decided to get
together for a beer at a guy's home nearby. The house was in a very
nice neighborhood, and after a couple of
beers, I left the gathering, and sort-of moseyed over to my car. I
had no reason to be concerned, so I was just day-dreaming, thinking of
what I had planned for the next day. I opened the car and was confronted
by two guys who'd broken into my car. They were apparently attempting to
steal my stereo, and did not plan to meet the car's owner. Of course, I
wasn't about to let these jerks go without a fight. Had I let them
run off, things may have ended differently, but I actually chased them
down, not wanting them to get away. I was lucky that a couple of
people had decided to leave the party not long after me, and saw me
standing there sort-of dazed, with the two guys running away. They
asked if I was okay, and I said "I don't think so." I showed them an
object or a handle sticking out of my rib cage. I was rushed to
the hospital. At one point, while laying on the table all of the
hospital staff left me, and I wondered where they'd gone. I saw they
were looking at an x-ray that showed a steal object going directly
through my chest. When they pulled out the object - an ice pick -
they discovered the damage: 9 stab wounds. I had a punctured
liver, bicep, stomach and kidney, a collapsed lung, and the pick those
bastards left behind had gone completely through my left lung and was
pressing against my heart. A police officer came to interview me,
and the hospital had a priest come in to read me my last rights. I
underwent surgery and intensive care, and obviously survived. But after
several weeks of rehabilitation, and by the time I was healthy and ready
to return to soccer, my position had been filled, and my career was
over.
My younger
brother was involved in martial arts, and after watching him, my
interest was peaked. I could stay fit, and learn self defense at
the same time. I went on to study and compete in martial arts and
full-contact fighting. I earned a third degree black belt in Tae
Kwon Do. I was very successful at this,
but
at the restless
age of 23, I was haunted by the desire to get back to the outdoors and
explore the mountains as I'd done in my youth. A couple of friends
and I made the move to Aspen, CO. I was (and still am) in
paradise! It was in Aspen that I was re-introduced to the sport of
rock climbing. I loved it so much and went as often as I could
that I quickly climbed every route in the local guidebook. I've
been climbing ever since, for the pure love of the sport, the constant
challenge (that never goes away), and for the people - true
climbers are a different, cool group of people . I've seen more
incredible landscapes, mountains and scenery... all offering climbing
routes that are intense, fun, challenging and waiting to be conquered.
I bring what I've learned along the way to every circle I find myself in
- whether it be working
with clients for my website development and programming business,
dealing with bookstores who sell my rock climbing guidebooks, or meeting
new and interesting people socially. I am ever growing and
changing and extending my circle.
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