Category: Feel Good Story

Be Wary Of Your Vices…

I was pretty much a stranger to alcohol until much later in life than any of my peers. I had my first beer at the age of 23, when I travelled to Japan. Prior to that, I had never consumed alcohol as some of my family members had faced alcoholism and had medical complications as a result. Being as that I was finally controlling my blood sugars and making some headway into proper health by my early 20’s, the last thing I wanted to do was introduce alcohol into the mix.

Once I had travelled to Japan and Okinawa, where the refusal of something offered is frequently seen as an insult, I allowed myself to enjoy some drinks and came to find that there was nothing to it. In fact, I even got reasonably tipsy on a couple of occasions and never really noticed the negative effect it was having on my blood sugars. Even when I brought up the fact I shouldn’t be drinking beer to the Okinawans due to my Diabetes (which is called toonoogio in Japanese, FYI) they offered me sake instead, claiming it was better for someone with my condition. Alrighty, then…

When I returned to Canada, I slid off the rails a bit. I may have written about this before but to be honest, who remembers? So confident had I become in my newfound enjoyment of beer and alcohol, I started enjoying it liberaly, much to the dismay of anyone in my immediate surroundings. Things came too a head one night at a party where I decided to fight some guy who was hitting on the little sister of the girl I was involved with. The evening pretty much ended there and it was a bit of a wake-up call for me.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t still enjoy the occasional drink when out playing pool or something. But that first incident showed me the potential danger I could be to others and how vulnerable I was leaving myself. Things didn’t TRULY reach a head until some time later, when I was at party in the woods at a small cabin my friends had nicknamed “the camp.” This was a small , homemade log cabin built by one of our friends and his brothers and was the usual site for any social get-togethers. it’s main feature was that it had power and a wood stove, and a small fridge for storing beer and drinks.

I mean, what could go wrong? Cramming a dozen teenagers/20-year olds into a small wooden structure in the woods and let them drink copious amounts of alcohol, right? As one might reasonably expect, there were fights, arguments, uninvited groping and people drinking far more than they should then wandering off into the woods to alleviate themselves of their liquid burden. It was late fall and although there was no snow, there was a frost on the ground and it was cold. The path to access the cabin required a ten-minute walk at sober speeds and led to the house of the guy who had built the cabin.

That’s when it happened…. One of our friends, I’ll call him “Luke,” was sitting on one of the old truck benches we used as a couch and was staring off into space. When I say staring off into space, I don’t mean the kind of idle staring that you get from being bored or thinking deep thoughts about something…. I mean his head was lolled to one side and his gaze was empty and without conscious substance. A couple of us approached him and asked if he was okay. No response. I pinched the loose skin at the side of his neck in an effort to elicit a pain response. Again, no response. Then his gag reflex kicked in and he trickled vomit out of his mouth like a baby spitting up.

This was the final sign to what I feared; Luke had alcohol poisoning. When someone isn’t conscious enough for the vomit to actually fly out and it just comes out at a slow trickle, you know it’s bad! I didn’t know what he had drank or even how much. I only knew that his life was in danger and I was one of only two people among the group who were sober. I was completely sober for two reasons. The first is because I drove to the location and if watching multiple after-school specials during my childhood has taught me anything, it’s that you don’t drink and drive. The second is that I’m extremely paranoid and worry about being in the forest while intoxicated, as you never know what might happen. Who’s laughing now, everyone who’s ever told me to lighten up?

I enlisted the help of my sober counterpart and a couple of the others who weren’t falling all over themselves. Luke was a bit of a hefty fellow, to say the least, and I would never have been able to get him down the walking path and into my vehicle without some help. It took about half an hour to get him through what would have been a 10-minute walk. Time was ticking and I knew that if I didn’t get him to a hospital soon, he could potentially die. We got him loaded into my vehicle, which was a 1983 Toyota Tercel hatchback. There was only room for four people, so I took the sober guy and one other.

It was the fastest I had ever driven in my life, prior to becoming a police officer. I was white-knuckling the steering wheel and since we were on the Quebec side needing to cross over back into New Brunswick, I kept praying I wouldn’t encounter any law enforcement as Luke’s life could literally depend on NOT being delayed. I crossed the bridge to New Brunswick and gunned it to Campbellton, which was where the hospital was located. I made it there in just over half the time it would have taken, under normal circumstances.

When we arrived at the hospital, I took responsibility for Luke by digging out his wallet and finding ID and a health card and contacted his father to attend the hospital. He was wheeled into the main area of the hospital where I couldn’t follow. When his father arrived, I explained what had happened and how we came to be here. He was brought back behind the door I couldn’t access to be with him. At the time, I remembered thinking how rude it was that he didn’t thank me for saving his son’s life. In retrospect, I realize he likely had bigger concerns on his mind…

With nothing left to do and no one who needed me, I left the hospital. I dropped off my passengers and headed home. I didn’t sleep that night as my mind was occupied, wondering what had become of Luke. Had he survived? Was he okay? Was he conscious? I considered calling the hospital to ask then reconsidered since I was not a member of the family and it was likely that no information would be shared with me.

It took a couple of days for my stomach to unclench and it really only happened when I had gotten word at work that Luke would be absent for a few days to recover. We worked at the same place, in case vI hadn’t mentioned that. This meant that he had survived. It wasn’t until a week later that he caught with me at a local magazine store. I remember that I was reading an article on Wing Chun in an issue of Black Belt Magazine when he walked up. He shook my hand and thanked me for saving his life. I rather think the hospital staff saved his life, but I guess it’s a matter of perspective. He asked me how he could ever thank me and all I could think to say was, “Don’t ever put yourself or anyone else in that position ever again and we’re square.”

I moved on to different things and different people after that. The event seriously altered my perspective on the people I surrounded myself with, and the activities that I allowed to happen around me. I became the puritan who opposed the consumption of alcohol and the use of drugs in my presence. This made me an outcast in the groups I had previously associated with. But I didn’t care. I had been scared straight and didn’t want to ever expose myself to that kind of a situation again. Even today, I usually won’t enjoy a drink outside of my home. And when I do, I have my one drink and be on my way. The world is too dangerous a place to allow anything more.

I think about Luke once in a while and wonder what ever became of him. Did he change his habits? Turn his life around? The focus of this post isn’t about my intervening in the situation. It’s about how quickly one’s vices can get out of hand, often with deadly consequences. Most people will be inclined to defend their choices. But it isn’t until you’re in the mud that you realize you’re sinking. And by that point, it can be too late. Moderation is key. I often enjoy a glass of wine of a vodka soda in the comfort of my home. I do so for the relaxing effect, the flavour experience and because I feel safe at home. But i have the distinct pleasure of knowing that I‘ll never find myself in that kind of a situation unless it’s to once again come to someone’s aid. And neither should you. Food for thought…☯️

Letting Sleeping Ghosts Lie…

So, my October 13 celebration/grieving was a bust… My wife warned me that this would happen. Another testament to how one should always listen to one’s spouse. Typically, I would have a home office in which I could write, stream some shows and be alone with my thoughts. This usually allows me to reflect and think back on my past experiences and what has brought me here. This year, since our basement isn’t completed, I had nowhere to go besides our living room. And that seemed to fall short for what I’ve usually done in the past.

Once supper was served, I was able to coax my son Nathan with the promise of holding on to his device if he completed a couple of homework tasks on it first. He agreed I got him squared away in his room with water and snack. Check. The youngest, however… Our evenings are typically on the quieter side since Alexander is usually pretty calm when his older brother Nathan isn’t in the picture. But for some reason, either because there was a full moon I was aware of or some stars aligned against me, or perhaps we can simply go with my usual belief that life doesn’t care about one’s plan, he was a roiling Tasmanian Devil of energy and was destroying everything in sight.

By the time we managed to get him to actually go to bed, I was physically and emotionally exhausted (not from him) and just wanted to go to bed. Which I did. Like an old man. Then I slept for over 11 hours, leaving behind the last instance of celebrating the day I completed basic training and took to the field. I’d like to say it was a restful sleep, but I woke up the next morning feeling as though I had been struck by a freight train. This is a testament to the fact that one can potentially sleep TOO long.

I did get one silver lining on Wednesday, which came in the form of an old troop mate reaching out to me: Randy Tabada. Y’all may remember Tabada, if you read the post I wrote back in February of 2020. If you didn’t, you can read it here. Tabada was a member of my troop during basic training. Our bunks were across the aisle from one another and he was one of the few select people from our troop that I actually spent time with, outside of the training environment. When he came back to Regina in February of 2020 to take some courses at the academy, I had the opportunity to share a meal and fond memories with him.

It was wonderful to get his phone call and reconnect with him. We discussed a number of outstanding issues that we’ve both been facing and we agreed how it was a little sad that out of a troop of 32, neither of us really had contact with anyone besides each other. I recall making an effort to reach out to everybody prior to our 10-year anniversary with the intention of organizing a reunion. I sent out a feeler email to see who would be amenable to getting together. The negative response was almost unanimous, which was a little sad.

At the end of the day, I didn’t get to observe my special day the way I would have chosen. Such is life. Although my intention is to rediscover myself and find out who I am outside of my previous career, I knew there wouldn’t be some climactic revelation or fireworks involved. But given that I’m now a veteran, it would have been nice to reminisce in my own way, one last time. Especially since my intention is to prohibit Fireball (or most other forms of alcohol) from ever entering this house again. I’m a veteran. It feels weird to say. It’s a title I usually always associated with my grandfather, but one that I’ll carry with pride. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to step out into the world and discover who I am. Or rather, who I may become…☯️

Let It Go And Let There Be Light…

In 2009, I closed up shop on life as I knew it. I closed my karate dojo, quit my job and left my friends and family to pursue a life-long dream and come out to Saskatchewan to start a new career. Basic training was tough, but despite several different types of adversity I made it through with flying colours and started the journey I thought would last the rest of my life. Today is the anniversary of the start of that journey. For years, I’ve observed a tradition on this day that involves toasting to my brothers and sisters.

This toast would take the form of one shot of Fireball for every year of service I had accumulated. The first few years were reasonably okay and it was a nice way of recognizing my comrades and celebrating without being able to be with them. After all, we were posted all over the country, so doing anything specific is difficult. But right around the fifth year of celebrating this day as a personal holiday, it started to get a little bit tough. I don’t think I need to explain that having five shots of Fireball whiskey in a row makes for a bit of a rough night.

Despite that fact, every year I’ve stubbornly held out. All the way to ten years, where over the course of a few hours, I would celebrate by taking ten shots. Is anybody else’s liver hurting yet? Needless to say, the following year I needed to find a different means of celebrating. But this year, things are different. In April, I started a new job. For the first time in my life, I have a permanent home. My children were born here in Saskatchewan. My wife is from Saskatchewan. The memories and experiences I’ve gathered during a decade and a half of being out here far outweigh any of the difficulties I’ve faced in recent years.

So I’ve decided that this year is the last time. Time to move forward with life. Memories and experience are simply that and how can one be expected to move forward if one is constantly reminded of what was lost, right? It’s been difficult to ignore that the rough seas I’ve been navigating over the past three years were out of my control, caused by someone else and even without any measurable benefit to the party in question. Some people just like to watch the world burn. But if I don’t let go of my hate and start moving forward, all it will do is contributed to my own suffering, which if you haven’t been paying attention, the elimination of suffering is kind of my jam.

So here’s to my brothers and sisters. I hope you all stay safe out there and continue to fight the good fight. My fight is not over, it’ll simply be in a different arena. Time to find out who I am outside the uniform and pursue new dreams. Time to find some peace. ☯️

Happy Thanksgiving!

Just a quick note to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian readers. Although one should reflect on it often, I hope everyone has something to be thankful for this year, despite the current state of the world. Be safe, be healthy and take the time to be with those you love. ☯️

Squid Games: A Review (includes spoilers)

I’m not one to jump on the bandwagon for anything (unless it’s required by law) as I typically find most fads and “popular” shit are usually overrated. That being said, some things tend to slip through the cracks on occasion and my wife and I sat through all the episodes of Netflix’s Squid Games in the last week. I’m going to provide my thoughts on the series and be warned, there will be significant spoilers herein. Read at your own risk…

I have to say, it contained a number of ups and downs and ultimately didn’t disappoint. To provide a bit of background, the show involves hundreds of people who are in financial strife and facing harsh collectors on their debts, participating as contestants in a contest of children’s games where the losers are killed. The show is based in South Korea but isn’t subtitled. There are only 9 episodes but Netflix shows it as “Season 1,” leading me to believe there may be more episodes in the future.

The series follows the movements of Gi-Hun, a down-on-his-luck Korean man who is heavily in debt and at risk of losing contact with his only child when his ex-wife is threatening to move to the United States with her new husband. Right around the point where Gi-Hun believes there may be no way out, he’s approached by a man on the subway who offers to play a child’s game in exchange for money. When they’ve finished playing, the stranger offers him a business card with a phone number to participate in more games for more money. The show is a bit slow-paced at the start, but once Gi-Hun calls the number and accepts, the real show begins.

Gi-Hun is rendered unconscious and wakes up to find himself in a room with several hundred other people. Masked individuals, armed with weapons come in and explain the rules of a child’s game they must participate in. The first game they play is “red light, green light.” When the people who are still moving after “red light” is called are killed, the horrific reality of the contestants’ situation becomes clear. Over the episodes that follow, the herd is significantly thinned as defeated opponents or losers are shot and killed, with a secretive side business of sending the bodies down to a sun basement to harvest the organs for the black market.

Alliances and partnerships are made, and quasi-friendships are developed. Not least of these include a previous friendship between Gi-Hun and his childhood friend, as well as a connection with an elderly man who appears to be slowly losing his coherence due to a tumour in his head. Emotions run high and heart strings are tugged as the final contestants are all killed, one after another, including the elderly man. The best friend kills himself when the games come down to him and Gi-Hun, crowning Gi-Hun the winner.

Gi-Hun leaves the games, now a wealthy man but burdened with the guilt of all the deaths that were forced upon his soul. this causes Gi-Hun to reject his fortune, which prompts the mastermind behind the games to reach out. It was a bit of a stunner to discover that the old man who had been killed by losing to Gi-Hun turned out to be the one behind the Squid Games. He plays one last cursory game with Gi-Hun, after which he dies in his bed, having succumbed to the tumour in his brain, apparently one of the few actual truths behind the man.

The season ends with Gi-Hun wearing a nice suit and walking through a subway terminal on his way to the airport to see his daughter in the US. He’s stopped short by seeing the same man from the first episode, playing the same game for money and providing a card to a random stranger. Gi-Hun confronts the stranger and takes the card and calls the number, on my to be addressed as “Player 456,” which was his number in the games. He’s told to get on the plane and go, fo this own good. It ends with Gi-Hun turning around and walking back into the airport terminal, which leads me to believe there’ll be another season.

All in all, it was what i would easily describe as a train wreck. Weird and gory, but difficult to peel your eyes away. Once we started watching, we made it through all nine episodes within a week. What’s more is that they’re roughly 1-hour episodes, so they can be a bit long to sit through. But the content keeps you engaged and it has plots and subplots, which makes it more than just a random show about contestants being killed for losing a game. I highly recommend it. ☯️

Embracing My Inner Nerd…

I don’t know if the term “nerd” is still widely-used or not. I know that for a while, being a nerd was cool. It sure as hell wasn’t when i went through school. Regardless of the term’s current standing, I’m quite proud of my inherent ability to absorb and process information, and the fact that I was always a little more on the cerebral side than some of my peers. So please accept my humble apologies if referring to myself or others as a nerd offends anyone. That isn’t the way it’s intended, but this is the way of the new world; normal things will often offend. That’s all I’ll say about that. Moving on…

I got my first taste of superhero lore when I was barely five years old, when my father sat with me and we watched the original Superman movie that was released in 1978. Ironically, only three months after I was born. But we didn’t get to watch it until it was released on video cassette (the predecessor to DVD’s, for you young’uns). I remember being fascinated by what I was seeing; a man who could fly, shoot beams from his eyes and couldn’t be physically harmed…. Superman has set the standard against which most superheroes are held.

I spent my youth collecting comic books, reading traditional books and delving deeply into the superhero genre. I was doing all of this through the years when Thanos was the antagonist in a comic line entitled “The Infinity Gauntlet,” which was followed by two sequels, “The Infinity War” and “The Infinity Crusade.” What we’ve seen in the MCU is based on The Infinity Gauntlet, even if they called it Infinity War. Despite exploring all these different stories and superheroes, Superman has always remained my favourite and despite differing reviews, I have loved ALL of the movies and series.

About a month ago, I decided to celebrate my birthday by walking into the value mall down the road and perusing a used book store. I sold off the remainder of my comic book collection a few years ago when i thought we might be moving and needed some extra cash so I was delighted when I came across a batch of graphic novels just sitting there in pristine condition. I decided that a fine gift to myself would be to allow the purchase of a few graphic novels to be read for leisure. I spend so much time reading and studying things, sometimes it’s nice to let your head cool and simply read something for fun.

This is where I got my hands on this little gem. For those of you who aren’t versed in comic lore (and I can admit that I no longer am), DC comics decided to refresh itself in 2011 and scrapped all its current existing title for their top characters and revamping them based on the outcome of a key storyline. They called it the New 52 and it saw a number of well-known characters be re-invented and have an altered appearance, altered power set and in some cases, slightly different origin story. I haven’t read a great deal of them, but I remember mixed reviews.

Most companies occasionally feel that change is good, especially if things have gotten stagnant or boring. But most of population don’t like someone messing with an old classic, like Superman. Despite that line of thinking, I have to say that I’m greatly enjoying this graphic novel. Without providing any spoilers, this storyline provide a look at a raw, rougher Superman who is at odds with the law and the status quo. Most importantly, he isn’t all-powerful and completely immune, which makes him more relatable as a hero to normal people, I think. If you haven’t been reading these, I highly recommend it as your next option. For fun, if nothing else.

I usually use my lunch hours at work to read. This is a good way to let my head cool, change gears and refresh myself before dealing with the afternoon. I usually bring a novel of some sort, science fiction or fantasy. I’m still reading the Wheel of Time. But this time around, it was good to revisit a familiar hero in a somewhat familiar environment and think back fondly to those warm, comfortable afternoons on the couch, watching Christopher Reeve show us that a man can fly. ☯️

The Uechi Chronicles, Vol. 5: Me, Of Course…

I’ve spent the past week writing about a short, four-question interview I’ve been providing to a lot of the key people from my karate background. If you haven’t been reading these posts, they’ve included a surrogate brother, friends and colleagues. The list has by no means been exhaustive, and there are a number of key people who simply haven’t responded, as of yet. Not least of these is Sensei. But as I’ve been transferring these answers from whatever messaging platform I’ve received them to the blog, it’s dawned on me that i should likely take a moment to answer these questions myself. Here we go:

Me, in the mid-90’s
  1. Why did you join karate?
    I started studying martial arts in general at a very young age, but started karate specifically at the the age of ten. My health wasn’t the greatest. I had been diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes a few years’ prior, and had suffered through a number of Diabetic comas in a short number fo years. Due to lack of education and these accumulated complications, my doctors predicted I wouldn’t live into my teens. My body had severe insulin resistance, which, since a Diabetic needs insulin to survive, wasn’t a happy combination. Doctors had no answers and basically started prepping my family for the possibility that I would die before reaching adulthood. imagine being a 10-year old kid and being told you’re going to die. That’s what I had to deal with. I wasn’t satisfied with that potential outcome and felt I had to do something to take control of my own health.

I was also significantly bullied. I was always a bit of the “different” kid in every class I attended. And I’m not talking about the modern, “snowflake” version of bullying where people’s feelings get hurt. I used to be cornered by three of the school’s “popular” hockey players, where they’d take turns punching and kicking me until I either passed out or someone came along to help. I once had an instance where a bunch of guys grabbed me and threw me into the gym showers, fully clothed. I spent the rest of the afternoon going to classes, soaking wet. The icing on the cake was having busted my face and lips on the tile flooring when I landed.

For all those reasons, I chose to step into a karate dojo and begin training in karate. I needed to improve my health, increase my chance of surviving long enough to experience life and I needed a way to properly defend myself as I had learned from a young age that the strong will often prey upon the weak.

Left to Right: Myself, Sensei, Sensei Eva and Sensei Blaisdell

2. When did you join karate?
I would have joined karate in 1989, when I was about 10 years old. I was introduced to Sensei through Guillaume, whom you would have read about here.

3. How many years have you been training and are you still doing so?
At this point, this year marks 33 years of studying Uechi Ryu karate. It’s been a bit of a bittersweet journey, since my departure from my home Province means that I haven’t grown and progressed to the point I would have liked. If I’m being honest with myself (and with my readers), there may have been times where I’ve taken a “break” but I’ve truly never stopped.

4. What have you gained/hope to gain from karate?
I think the first and most important thing I gained from karate is perspective. People join the martial arts for different reasons, some good, some bad. Within a matter of months, my insulin resistance improved, my blood sugars started to regulate and I started to get into shape (much to the amazement of my doctors. Once my health started to improve, I began working on being able to defend myself. Since I was somewhat certain that taking my health in hand had accomplished what my doctors seemed unwilling or unable to do, now I had to make certain I could walk confidently without having my peers take advantage of me or harm me.

Demonstrating a kata in Okinawa in 2001

It all came to a head for me when I had one of my bullies try to come at me with a pocket knife. It sounds like something out of a bad movie but unlike a bad movie, it wasn’t a long, drawn out affair involving dodging and weaving, knives flashing as high-octane music played in the background. It was all of ten seconds; five seconds for him to come at me and sink the blade into my wrist and five seconds of my throwing him and breaking one of his bones. The irony is that once we received medical attention and the smoke had cleared, I was sent home for a week for “starting a fight.” No one stood up to explain I hadn’t started it. Que sera.

I tell this story as something I gained from karate because it provides two very important details to my story. The first is that I learned quickly that I wasn’t proud of what I had done and was frightened beyond reason. Fighting someone who means to do you harm is a scary thing. But more over, I learned that I wanted nothing to do with harming others. This is where the Buddhist aspect of me kicked in, believe it or not. It was in my teen years that I recognized the existence of suffering and my need to try and eliminate it from my own life, well before I had even started studying Zen.

Training with Shintaro-san in Okinawa


By the time those different aspects of my youth had been addressed, I found myself in an existential black hole. Now that I had ensured my improved health and self-protection, I needed to discover who I was as a person and what mark I wanted to make on the world. Most of the years that followed involved trying things and trying to discover my inner self. I eventually did, but I also discovered that once I started I couldn’t stop. I’ve been doing karate and martial arts in general, ever since.

By the time I reached adulthood, I had gained/developed discipline, motivation, focus, strength, concentration and the drive and ambition to accomplish anything. More than that, I joined a fellowship that would stay with me for the rest of my life. The people I’ve met, places I’ve been and the dedicated students I’ve trained/trained with are all counted among the most important of things that I’ve gained from the martial arts. Even now, being as far from home as I am, those connections remain intact.

Sensei and I in 2002, shortly after graduating Shodan

In closing, I’m going to ask a question of myself that I didn’t provide to the others. Maybe I should have. That question simply this: what does the future hold for me? When I look back at everything I’ve been through in my 33 years of karate, I acknowledge that I wouldn’t be alive today, had it not been for my training. That applies both to my personal and professional life. Karate continues to flow through my daily life in almost every aspect. I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know what the future may hold.

I’m inclined to believe that my days of training hard for hours on end may be dwindling away. These days, you can find me training as a guest of the Regina Institute of Kempo Karate. The great, white hope is that eventually my sons will snap out of it and choose to step into the martial arts world, as well. My youngest is certainly showing some affinity to it. At the end of my journey, passing on this knowledge to my children will be the final step I take as I lay down my belt for the last time. ☯️

The Uechi Chronicles, Vol. 4: MJ

In today’s volume of my personal chronicles, we look at someone whom I’ve known for over thirty years. Our history goes all the way back to before either of us was born. Our families have known each other for the two generations that preceded us, and she and I grew up living on the same street. As we grew into adolescence, we not only became friends and built the most solid group of friends one could possibly ask for, we were also a couple for many years.

When my martial arts training kicked into high gear, MJ started joining me to classes. She developed great skill and was usually a challenging opponent during sparring. If you remember Volume 2 about JL that was posted just a few days ago, he could tell you without a doubt. She’s the only one I’ve ever seen to drop him to the ground during sparring. I’m not saying it never happened before or since; I’m just saying it was the only time I ever saw it. These days, MJ is extremely busy raising her children. Here’s what she had to say:

  1. Why did you join karate?
    “I had an annoying boyfriend that kept bugging me to join, lol. But to be honest, it was the best thing I ever did.”
  2. When did you join karate?
    “I was 16 years old.”
  3. How many years have you been training and are you still doing so>
    “I trained for about three years when I was a teen and did a year after my daughters were born. Sensei said it was like I never left. We were very well-trained.”
  4. What have you gained/hope to gain from karate?
    “I’ve gained self-esteem and it gave me my beginning experiences in spirituality.”

I have to say, I definitely like the answer to the first question best. I’ll be the first one to admit that I was a significant handful to deal with during my teen years. But i can certainly be grateful that my youthful stubbornness helped MJ to find some benefit to everything we trained in. Everyone’s reasons for joining karate may be different. And everyone’s outcome may be different. the key point is to make a positive out of it. ☯️

The Uechi Chronicles, Vol. 3: Guillaume

Today’s volume of the Uechi Chronicles is near and dear to me, because it involves someone that’s been an important influence and shoulder to lean on throughout my youth. Guillaume is my Sensei’s son and having basically been raised and grown up around Sensei’s home, Guillaume and I had the opportunity to develop a life-long friendship that’s endured despite years of time and distance. He and I have been friends through all of the important firsts in our lives and I’ve forgotten more stories about us than I can remember.

I first starting spending time with Guillaume when I was around 10-years old. I went over to Sensei’s house and Guillaume thought it would be a good idea to use his home chemistry set to create an explosive. You know how those kids’ sets always say the chemicals are basically harmless? Guillaume proved them wrong! As we grew older, we started to get into all sorts of bad pastimes , such as gun fights with pellet guns, sparring and beating the shit out of each other in public places and being an all-around bad influence on each other.

That’s Guillaume on the right, delivering a nice roundhouse kick to my face!

What’s interesting about Guillaume’s story is that unlike most others, he didn’t join karate by choice. As Sensei’s first-born son, he was basically pushed into it. Although Guillaume is significantly skilled and capable in the martial arts, the forced obligation to be in karate soured him on continuing on into his adult years. As a result, he rarely practices anymore. This is to the detriment of the martial arts world as well as himself and other students who could benefit from his potential teachings.

He now lives in a small city called Bathurst, which is roughly an hour’s drive away from our home town. We still chat on the rare occasion but like most people, life and familial obligations have made it so that we don’t have as much contact as we used to. I last saw in him in late 2019, when I was travelling through New Brunswick on work-related matters. He currently operates as a self-employed acupuncturist and has been building his own house for some time. Despite this busy schedule, he took the time to answer my questions. Here’s what he had to say:

  1. Why did you join karate?
    “I was forced by my father to do karate.”
  2. When did you join karate?
    “I was about 3 years old.”
  3. How many years have you been training and are you still doing so?
    “I trained for about 16 years. No, the odd time I might do a kata… But I can say I spar on a daily basis. So something stuck with it.”
  4. What have you gained/hope to gain from karate?
    “It was the listening part that you had to follow. Made your ears work and not your tongue. To follow orders and commands…my father still, to this day comes to see me and I hear him say my name from a distance, doesn’t matter where I am, and as soon as I hear it, I yell back ‘yes, dad!’ The response to years of having a split second to react.”

It’s an interesting perspective and as some of you may recall, I’ve written and posted videos on the perils of forcing one’s children into the martial arts. Karate is an important journey; one that needs to be made based on one’s choice. This is why despite my preference, I’ve never forced Nathan into karate. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in anything other than wrestling in general, as a game. There’s hope for Alex, though. So who knows? Guillaume has the honour of having been Sensei’s first graduated black belt. Despite the reasons behind, I believe that leaving karate behind is an impossibility. Aspects of it still permeate his soul. ☯️

It Sneaks Up On You…

To be honest, i never keep much of a close eye on how many followers my blog has accumulated. I have the benefit of writing for very different reasons than gathering a follower-ship, so the numbers tend to creep up for a significant amount of time without my realizing it. That’s why I was a little surprised to check my stats through the WordPress app (highly recommended if you’re a WordPress user, FYI) and noticed that I was sitting at 400 followers!

My stats screen

And yes, you’ve read that right. Since starting this blog, I’ve written 953 posts, with a continuous streak of 560 days. This means I’ve posted for 560 days in a row without missing a day. And that’s the current count, so that number will continue to grow unless I get lazy and skip a day. But I don’t see that happening. But anyway, it’s a short and sweet post today but I wanted to share the accomplishment. Y’all keep reading ’em. I’ll keep writing ’em. ☯️