They caught me. Again. I was walking over to my best friend Paul's house and they got me just after I had turned the corner from Summit Avenue onto Adams street. Their car skidded to a stop and Ron, Donnie and Mike got out ready to have some fun at my expense - again. The official story was that I fell on the ice and they started kicking me, managing to (accidentally) stomp on my hand and break it in the process. The truth is I put my hands up to cover my face and got knocked down immediately. I probably broke my hand when I went down. I never even threw a single punch in my own defense.
I never made it to Paul's house. Instead, I crawled home on my hands and knees and through the front door, leaving a sparse, thin trail of blood along the snow and ice the whole way. My parents wanted to take me to the emergency room. All I wanted was to find my brother, Casey. He would know what to do. Casey was my polar opposite. Short, squat and powerful, me could max the leg press in the school gym already when he was still just a freshman. He was a fullback on the football team and everybody in school loved and respected him.
Because we were foster kids, we had different names and most people didn't know he was my brother. If Ron, Donnie and Mike had known, they definitely would have left me alone. They found out firsthand who Casey was very soon after this incident. Casey never told me what he said or did to them, but when the hospital let me out and I went back to school the three of them were terrified of me, as if I had the power of life and death over them. Ron even offered to carry my books from one class to another. For the next few years, even after Casey had already graduated, the fact that he was my brother kept all my enemies at bay. I wanted to be strong like Casey. Strong enough to never be bullied again. Strong enough to never be afraid again.
The following summer, when I turned 14, Casey was taken away again and I started martial arts training at an old garage in Glendale Heights. I've been in the martial arts one way or another ever since.
After a year or so, I no longer felt I needed Casey watching my back, which was good because he was still gone. Maybe he was in Florida with his real Dad. We didn't really know. Foster kids tend to get moved around a lot and we never knew if or when we would see Casey again. In the end he was gone for 3 years this time and didn't come back again until his senior year in high school.
With a bit of training, I felt confident. I could do the basic punches and kicks and even a few combinations. I could twirl a few weapons around and even strike a pose or two. I fantasized about what I would do if Ron, Donnie and Mike ever came after me again, and I'd daydream about slashing them with a katana or bashing them with nunchaku. Thankfully, it never happened.
It's been almost 40 years (and four black belts) since I started. I feel like I've come a long way. I don't daydream about fighting (well, maybe a little), and in time I've come to use what I learned to help people rather than harm them. That overconfident 15 year old has been replaced by a middle-aged husband and father that thinks mostly about the weekends and what to cook (pizza anyone?).
I have also realized after nearly 40 years how little I actually know about martial arts. I have tried to dig deeply into Japanese martial arts, especially kenjutsu/iaijutsu, aikido, judo, jujitsu. Since 2008 Kali Majapahit has been my passion, and has helped introduce me to Filipino, Malaysian/Indonesian, Thai and Southern Chinese martial arts. Together, these blend into a flow that seems to make sense to me. That said, for each system I have studied, I know many people far more skilled than I can ever be - masters who understand things I am just on the verge of discovering. I still have so much to learn - too much to ever fully grasp in the time I have left.
Knowing a little has also taught me that I want to avoid physical confrontation whenever possible. There are far too many variables to ever really know the outcome of any such situation. Things can escalate very quickly and many actions, once done, cannot be undone. In the worst case, there are potentially permanent effects that could involve prison or worse. It's just not worth it unless there is really no other option. Like life insurance, it's better to have it and never need it than to need it and not have it. The peace of mind I get from knowing myself and my capabilities/limitations is enough for me. Martial arts has given me so much more than fighting skill. I use what I have learned every single day.
Ron, Donnie and Mike are probably still living in or around my hometown in suburban Chicago. If we met again, I'd probably buy them a drink and we could laugh about how stupid we all were back then.
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