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Dr. Sun Hing Lau ( my father) was the first person to introduce me to the vocation of service to others. He was a great healer on many levels. As a research cardiologist he was a pioneer in the field of cardiac catherization.

From the experiences of childhood in the Great Depression, trips as a teenager in the Panamanian Merchant Marines, national-class boxing, the awe-inspiring sights of selfless sacrifice on Iwo Jima, and finally, fifteen years in overseas ideological warfare, Humphrey observed that universal values exist and, ultimately control human behavior. Humphrey is a graduate of Wisconsin University, Harvard Law School, and the Fletcher School of Diplomacy.

At the beginning of the Cold War, he left a teaching position at MIT to help lead the struggle against Communism. Finding that U.S. education was contributing to, rather than reducing, American overseas problems, he developed a new leadership approach that overcame Ugly Americanism among hundreds of thousands in crucial Third World areas. More recently, his methodology won commendations for educating the alleged uneducable: Mexican-American street-gang youths in southern California, and Canadian Native teenage dropouts.

Until Communism's fall, Humphrey kept his new methods confidential. Those methods are significant: (1) From his experiences with young infantrymen in heavy combat, and with the peasants in many villages of the world, he perceived humankind's basic goodness that philosophers have missed or under-rated. (2) In place of compartmentalized, primarily mental education, Humphrey has developed a human-nature-guided (moral, physical, artistic, mental) approach. His company offers money-back guarantees to solve any education or leadership problem where leaders agree to help implement the total program.

Humphrey was the author of many publishings and books, especially Values for a New Millennium (ISBN 0-915761-04-1) (The above and below was taken from the book.)

On weekends, the Americans would form parties to hunt the wild boar that were destroying many of the villagers' crops. As a party would arrive in a remote village, the more curious peasants would crowd up behind the truck carrying the American hunters.

The sight of those peasants in the poorer villages was often depressing. Many of the villages were only a few miles off of the highways which connected the larger cities, but they were hundreds of years behind the cities in economic and cultural development. When the rains came, the mud spread like wall-to-wall carpeting in the streets throughout the villages.

As usual, on this trip, the sight of the ragged, destitute villagers drew comments from one or another American. A young airman proclaimed: "Look at them; they are like a bunch of animals. What have they got to live for? They might just as well be dead."

What can anyone say against those comments? They seemed true enough.

I sat I chagrined silence, but this day, in response to those familiar words, the old sergeant drawled out his answer between spits of tobacco juice. He said, "You better believe they got something to live for, Jack. If you doubt it, let me see you jump down there and try to kill one of them with your hunting knife. They'll fight you like no one ever heard of. I have fought beside them in heavy combat, and I don't know either, why they seem to value their lives so much. Maybe it's them women in them pantaloons, or maybe it's them dirty-faced kids; whatever it is, they seem to value their lives just as much as we do ours, even with all our money. In fact, both in combat, and in freezing prison camps, they hung in there after a lot of Americans were yelling quit."

After the grizzled sergeant spoke, all the whispering stopped on the truck; everything went silent. I still recall hearing the villagers' campfire crack in the sudden stillness of the early morning dusk; I heard the old sergeant suck and spit. I am sure my mouth dropped open. I was both embarrassed and excited. I thought to myself: Good God, he is talking about the equality of life and all of these rich Americans are buying it.

I stashed my rifle in the truck cab and lost interest in the hunt. I stayed close to the sergeant so I could talk with him during the stakeout. Two of my questions brought forth additional deep feelings and insights.

He told (or lectured) me that while we were looking down on those peasants and insulting them, it really embarrassed him because even though the villagers didn't speak any English, they understood exactly what we were saying. They could tell from our tone, and had given him almost exact translations on previous occasions when he had stayed with them overnight. He added, "You know, when we are making fun of them, they are looking back up at us there on the truck and saying, 'Laugh, you bastards in your fancy clothes, but we don't care how sweet you smell, or how rich you are, or where you come from. We value our lives and the lives of our loved ones just as much as you do yours. And if you don't give us that, you have got to go.'"

I asked the sergeant how we could prove a belief in equality despite our striking differences in wealth. He answered easily:

"You got to be able to jump down off the truck into the sheep manure, go over there into that village of mud huts, walk down those narrow streets, and pick the dirtiest, stinkin'est village peasant that you meet; and as you walk past him, you got to be able to make him know, just with your eyes, that you know that he is a man who hurts like we do, and hopes like we do, and wants for his kids just like we all do. That's how you got to be able to do it. Nothin' else ain't going to work."

Tom Brown Jr. was from the age of seven to seventeen, under the tutelage of an Southern Lipan Apache elder named Stalking Wolf. Grandfather Stalking Wolf was born in the 1870's during a time of great warfare and violence, but raised free of the reservations in the mountains of northern Mexico. He was taught the traditional ways of his people until he was twenty, when a vision sent him away from his tribe, and for the next sixty three years he wandered the Americas seeking the old ways. His vision was to embody the vocational skills of hunter-gatherer, scout/tracker, warrior, and shaman-healer-herbalist-caretaker. He traveled across most of North and into South America to learn as many of these physical and spiritual skills as he possibly could within his 93 years.

After Grandfather's death, Tom Brown's own wanderings for ten years only helped him confirm the pure truths in the wildeness. He wrote his experiences in a book titled The Tracker (ISBN 0-425-10133-9) which was published in 1978. Soon after, Reader's Digest ran a condensed version of his story, the response was overwhelming. So, in March of 1978, he opened the Tracker School, the largest school of its kind. Since its inception, he has since taught tens of thousands of students from all over the world in all walks of life who share an interest in learning the simplicity of a natural way of living. The training of these students have also included - Navy Seals, Army Rangers, forest rangers, police, law enforcement and other government officials. Tom Brown has earned his reputation as "The Tracker" locating dozens of lost and abducted children, hikers, hunters, campers and has even helped capture fugitives from the law. He is the author of many publications including sixteen books, eight of which are autobiographical novels and eight field guides to wilderness living skills and philosophies.

What was I to do now? Should I go around an easier way and pick up his trail on top? Was I to wait until the sun set and the rock cooled? Is this where he would have me spend the night? I was in a quandary as to what I should do. What would Stalking Wolf do? He would find a way to climb the rock. He often taunted me on our long treks when I tired: Young brave too weak to keep up? What will happen to tribe? It was usually enough to make my adrenaline flow to keep his pace. I wasn't shamed by his taunt. He never degraded anyone. Rather I was challenged by it and the sense of responsibility I felt to someone else. I wasn't keeping up to prove that I was a better man than he. I was struggling for the survival of others. If I gave up, who would carry on?

I inched my way up that rock and got some pretty nasty burns in the process. At times I had to hug the rock and use its slight natural roundness for leverage. I did not want to expose my body to the burns, but I had little choice. It was pain or jump. I chose the pain. What will happen to tribe? kept flaming up in my conscience. Its meaning burned my soul more than the rock burned my body. In the white man's society it seems that everybody is out for himself. White men have forgotten their responsibility to the community. They ignore the brotherhood of all mankind. Stalking Wolf taught me that I lived for myself only when I lived for the tribe.