Monday, March 4, 2019

Something on my Mind: Karate Kid, You Not

The most recent buzz around our house is a brand-new, weekly karate class. My youngest got it in his head that he wanted to try it, so he's trying (and liking) it. It calls for a quick trip to Lethbridge every Saturday, but it's worth the ride...so far.

He has just started, so there's a bit of a pattern of what happens for the hour-long class, and it runs something like this (with a touch of hyperbole added):

1. I drop my son off, then flee to do some necessary shopping, before the violence starts;

2. that is, of course, after I bowed to Master Suzuki, and grunt appropriately;

3. I return in time to pick him up (my son, that is), and head back to the sticks.

I don't know if my boy is being groomed to be my bodyguard or my assassin. Or neither. Maybe it's just for the exercise and to get out of the house.

There was some talk there about different degrees in a black belt. Or something like that. Big deal: I have one degree and about four black belts. Apparently I misunderstood.

Master Suzuki is an interesting study. He's a working stiff by day (electrician, if I recall), but a karate instructor by weekend. I wonder how he reacts to a client not paying his bill? A chop here or there? I'm sure he bows when he gets his cheque.

I applaud (now I'm serious, not wisecracking) anyone who works at a real job, then adds a hobby to help others. And I can assure you, he can't be in it for the money. He's hardly covering his gas to get to and from the centre, plus its rental.

In fact, it's really admirable that he puts himself out for so few kids, because there are only two kids in my son's class, and only one in the next one.

Word is out that they will amalgamate the first two classes, which makes sense, but that will still mean there are only three kids in the class. At that rate, the money is still the same, but he will save time and rent for that unused extra hour.

My son will be given his kimono the next time he shows up. To me, it's a bland housecoat, but I'm not taking the class. If I were, I would have preferred one with Donald Duck figures; even "Frozen" would have worked for me.

And I use my housecoat for lounging, reading, or watching a movie—vegging, if you will. The kimono that Suzuki has his students use is for the complete opposite purpose, namely, moving, thrashing, twisting, and other karate-type gestures. I think that if a kimono had a lion or gorilla silkscreened on it, it would be fitting.

And the belt: Mine usually holds my pants up, whereas the karate one holds the kimono in. The colours are the difference: black, I get; I'm just not sure what my brown belt means—that I can't find my black one?

People like me think there's a lot of damage to be done if one becomes an accomplished "karate kid" and loses control. That hardly happens, I understand. Apparently there's a lot more to it than that. I don't know what it is, but it has a philosophical and traditional element to it, one that involves honour and respect, accomplishments and success.

My black belt represents relief—that my pants won't fall down.

I'm not sure if the contact (fist on chest) feels any softer if Party A thrashes the you-know-what out of Party B. Who actually gets hurt when A touches B? Maybe that's where the expression "this hurts me more than it hurts you" came from, though I doubt it.

I am hoping my son will learn some self-defense tricks for the years to come. He doesn't really need them for his older brothers, as most have moved away. I just hope he doesn't use them on me when I ask him to do some chores:

"Son, wash dishes please, especially the ones with mould." Whack to the knee. "Son, pick up those socks that have been there for a week." Chop to the neck. "Son (if I'm still breathing), shut the door on your way out." Thrash, as he tosses me through that door.

Maybe if I could get him to bow to me like he bows to his instructor it would be worth it all.

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