In Hollywood, Florida, a bustling suburb squeezed in just north of Miami but south of Fort Lauderdale, a karate dojo at the local YMCA brought together an evolving yet transient group of individuals. Some as young as middle school age, a handful of early middle-age adults, but most falling somewhere in between the two. This diverse group of individuals were representative of somewhat similar backgrounds living in either Hollywood or nearby suburban cities. Their reasoning for joining karate class varied: from learning self-control, gaining self-confidence or improving personal fitness levels and with probably to a lesser interest in sparring, katas or even participating in the proverbial karate tournaments. All, united in a passion for a love of the martial arts: whether it was being fans of masters such as Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris or learning self-defense skills with an interest in the spiritual and tradition components. Regardless of reasons, this motley crew came together twice a week for class. With each passing year, the karate class now became a karate club, growing both in enrollment and connectivity. Many faces came for their moment in time and be gone just as quick, all while, silently, unbeknownst to the remaining core group, ultimately becoming an extended family.
After I finished my Grade 6 school year, we moved from a suburb of Detroit, Michigan to the heart of Miami, Florida. Before I even finished Grade 7, my parents decided they wanted to move somewhere less congested and stressful as living in Miami. We began taking weekend drives north to Broward County and began driving and looking at different communities we would like to live. After countless weekends of driving around, we decided and settled in Hollywood, a city about a half hour or so north, but felt like we were hours away from Miami’s urban chaos. We spent the next few weekends driving around different neighborhoods and before I knew any different, we found a house for rent. In all ways, it was meant to be ours. It was the first time we moved into a house and not a multi-family apartment. From the very first night we were fully moved in, I immediately felt at home and comfortable. This was our first house and we had a backyard on a canal, a safe neighborhood to ride a bike with friends and didn’t have to worry about running into people in the halls who lived above, below or on the sides of our unit. Maybe it was because it reminded me of the freedom and open space, I experienced in the summers at our summer ho me, just north of Toronto, Ontario.
With the fall of 1983 rapidly approaching, I was entering Grade 8 in early August. This would become my third new school in the two years since moving from the Midwest. As time permitted, both my parents would take turns to drive around to explore our new city. Mom, by choice was a stay-at-home parent, usually lugged me around during the weekdays, usually to run errands and chores. Dad’s long days at work during weekdays often would take me out on weekends. Together. most of our outings were for pleasure and rarely was it to chase some chore or running an errand. We would find new hobby shops, go plane spotting at the local airport and stop at the nearest McDonald’s for a BigMac combo meal. On the rare occasion we would stop at an auto parts supply store or the Home Depot to pick up a must have item for something he found to tinker with or needed to repair.
On this particular Saturday, shortly after we moved into our new home, Mom asked me to go with her to one of the local malls. The mall, rather small, looked more like shopping strip plaza that was converted into an indoor shopping center. Mom found a parking spot rather quickly and luckily it was close to one of the few main entrances which opened directly into the mall and not to an anchor department store leading to the mall through its maze of temptations. As we approached the entrance, the automatic doors opened and the air conditioner hummed along, sounding like it welcomed patrons entering the mall. The cold air embraced Mom and I for maybe the first few hundred feet from the entrance, until we came to what appeared to be the back of a stage. We followed others walking around the structure and made the turn around the corner, where we saw the stage with a karate demonstration taking place. Without skipping a heartbeat, Mom stopped, looked around and took a detour from those entering the rest of the mall. She then proceeded to the back of the stage where we could stand and watch the remainder of the demonstration. She reminded me how enjoyed watching me when I took karate class before moving to South Florida. She even remembered details which I long have forgotten: karate lessons were held at our apartment’s clubhouse, how I even got my friend Kellie and her brother to join the class and the first tournament where I participated in my age group for both kata and kumite. I guess it couldn’t have been too memorable of an experience as I only remember going to class.
I was convinced my parents conspired behind my back to have me tag-a-long with Mom and go with her to the mall, very well knowing of the karate performance beforehand. They hoped it would excite me enough to make it my idea to ask them to enroll me into karate class. What I didn’t know then, my Mom already been to the YMCA and enrolled me, even before we even went to the mall that particular Saturday. She did not ask for my thoughts on the matter, nor paid much attention to how my body language screamed a lack of interest, but I agreed to try it out for a couple months. I can still hear them both telling me how this would be a positive means for me to gain self-confidence, improve my self-discipline, overcome my shyness and possibly help me make friends before the new school year starts. I was never one who liked organized sports and preferred finding my own outdoor activities with, at the most one or two friends. I sensed my parents felt karate would benefit me both by increasing my physical activity and lessen social awkwardness. In their eyes, this was better option than me just sitting around the house doing nothing but watching television or playing on my newly found interest, a home computer.
After a month or so, I eventually connected and made more friends than I ever did up to this point in my life. It didn’t take long for me to not only look forward to going to karate class and realize this became now a club. I was surprised when we learned common Japanese phrases, studied Japanese traditions and practiced meditation revolving around the martial arts. One of our senseis, Eric C often reminded us true meditation was not just a moment to close our eyes for a quick moment to catch our breath after our workout, but a concentrated moment to reflect, recollect and to focus on our lessons learned. Over the years, I improved my physical fitness and developed a great deal of mental awareness skills. By the time I had to drop off some years later, I not only earned promotions to achieve second (5th kyû, midori obi) green belt but maintained close friendships that I would hope to have lasted a lifetime.
Fast forwarding many years later, I remember at my high school graduation, one of the administrators quoted in their commencement speech, “the only constant in life is change.” This quote remained a poignant statement, which resonated with me as the years of my life played out. Regretfully, between my college classes and a new position I took at another YMCA association (another story – another time) in a distant neighboring city, I would not be able to make it back in time for classes. I continued participating until the early part of 1990 when I ended up having to sadly drop out. The karate club fulfilled my parents’ wishes and I easily overcame my shyness and learned to remain quite even keel and in control of my emotions. While I still don’t care much for participating in organized group exercise classes, I still practice meditation when my life becomes out of balance and need a time to reflect, recollect and regain stability.
When my schedule permitted, I always volunteered to deliver items to the Hollywood YMCA when my new YMCA needed someone to deliver items there. It was on my way home and provided me a bonus opportunity to stop by and say “hi” to friends and the remaining familiar faces in the karate club. Reflecting on memories, I felt nostalgic and also happy for the core group who remained and continued climbing up the ranks to various levels of brown and black belts. I look back and recall, when first entering the YMCA, the once familiar dojo filled with karate classes several nights a week immediately captured your attention. Once we opened the new wing of our YMCA, our dojo took over this room and saw the new promotions to new ranks including a couple of my own, held our first black belt promotion and as a class groaned when we had to run laps or do push-ups rather than kata or find a partner to spar with. When my life’s journey continued steering me in different directions over the years, my visits became less frequent and predictable. Once new leadership came in, the YMCA too changed, as did the direction of our beloved karate club. The blue room, as it was affectionately called, with its special flexible flooring with blue carpeting, was repurposed to be called studio east, an all-purpose group exercise room filled with aerobics and tai chi classes. For the most part, I lost contact with many of my karate family as there was never a need to exchange contact information, as I knew I would always find them at the YMCA during karate class hours.
In my position, I attended meetings at varied locations throughout the YMCAs in Broward County. When the meetings took place at the Hollywood YMCA, I always reminisced about past days when the very room our meeting was held in was our dojo filled with familiar faces and the next generation of karate students. It took a few moments for me to refocus and return to the present day. I often found myself easily distracted in speculation and wondered what became of my karate club family. As our lives became tangled in the complexities of adulthood, time caused many of us to lose contact with each other. Yet, the memories of our youth lingered, like forgotten treasures waiting to be rediscovered. A handful of the original karate core group members did better keeping in touch than others over the years. Some remained connected with a few and were able to keep very few degrees of separation than the others. The distance albeit not necessary by miles, seemed to become greater with each passing year. As young adults, many of our lives began changing as some went away to universities and others began careers; while others married and began having families of their own and some cared for sick or aging family members.
In the blink of my eye, I realized, time kept moving ahead, muck like pressing the button on my VCR to fast forward. I have already passed by, my twenties, my thirties and even my forties. As I entered my fifties, I found the only rewind button in life are the memories I created along my journey. I confess, it’s worth repeating, with each passing decade, life took us in opposingly different directions both literally and figuratively. Those who know me, know one of my favorite sayings is, “Life gets in the way of living.” Even with each of us pursuing our dreams or facing life's challenges, somehow memories of our time together, echoed in my heart. I’d like to believe others of the karate club heard the same echo in their own hearts. It didn’t take much for me to start becoming sentimental as memories flood my head with emotions and wondering what it would be like to see each other after all these years. With technology advancing and social media prevailing, its algorithms offered opportunities for many to rekindle lost friendships and for others, well, they just moved on without a second guess. My thoughts, social media has done a great job bringing those furthest away, closer and pushed those the closest to you, further away.
Through these various social media channels, I watched the lives of a few of my fellow karate family evolve over the years. I remained distantly social with the occasional chat with several of my past karate family members.
Even with as many years elapsed since our last gathering, time never seemed to bring us together in person. After years of unsuccessful group reunifications, something magical was about to happen. Through a series of serendipitous events, one person, decided to create a private chat room in one of the social media platforms. It first began bringing more than one or a couple of us together to chat, even if it was just a chat room on the internet. Sooner than later, we managed to reconnect with many from our original karate club members. She slowly began untangling the web we created around our own lives and invited more to this chat room. She asked us to invite anyone we are in contact with from the karate club of our past to the room. The actual number of years since our last seeing each other, varied by each person. For me it was nearly thirty-five years since I had my last meaningful connection other than quick greetings when and if our paths crossed. Within a short period of time, chatting in our private room led to a conversation with all coming to a consensus and shared how great it would be to get together and see each other after all these years and have a much simpler reunion. Upon logging back to the chat room a few days later and rejoined the private room, I quickly noted there was a date, time and location posted for the reunion of our karate club members and a request of items to bring for a pot luck luncheon.
The day, Saturday, April 20, 2024 arrived much quicker than I expected and with equal amounts of excitement and anxiety. I finished up a few of my plethora chores, errands and things I have or want to get done before returning to my Monday mayhem at work. The alarm on my cell phone reminded me it was time to leave for the long-awaited karate club reunion. With a quick once over, making sure I had everything, wallet, check; keys, check; cell phone, check; and my contribution to the festivities, check, now, I was ready to go. After getting myself into my car and getting situated, I programmed my GPS to the address, pressed 'go' and proceeded to head in the general direction of the reunion, before the voice queued up the prompts. The voice announced my approximate arrival time was about ten minutes later than the scheduled time on the invitation. I normally am the one who would rather be an hour early than one minute late. Today, I was OK with my timing. I didn't want to be the first one to arrive, with the thought everyone may think I am looking overly excited or eager. As I approached the community where Michael and Annie L live, my GPS announced to make a left on what I assumed was the correct street. After going back and forth on the street several times, I finally had no one behind me and stopped to look at the street name. I was taken by surprise when the street it prompted me to turn was the right street number name, but it was incorrect as it said 'Place' not 'Street.' This short detour added an additional delay in my arrival time, it allowed my anxiety to gain some momentum by the time I arrived.
I parked my car amongst the others at the cul-de-sac roundabout and stepped out of with my items for the potluck and proceeded walking towards the house. I double checked the number on the house with the one on my cell phone’s electronic invite, and at least a few times more than I should have before walking up to the door. Just as I was about to ring the doorbell on the door, I took a deep breath, maybe two, ok three, I self-doubted whether I was whether I should be there or not. After all, I was one of first from the original core group who had dropped off from the karate club. Before I had a chance to play a non-malicious round of ding dong ditch, Michael answered the door and welcomed me with initially with a handshake and than an awkwardly mutual hug. As he cordially welcomed me into their home, I felt like I stepped back into time. Within minutes, the room buzzed with excitement and the distance of the years not seeing the faces who arrived just before me, melted away. The greetings of hugs, handshakes and fist bumps weren’t quite as much uncomfortable as the first one. However, somewhat awkward feeling lingered for not knowing which the receiving guest’s preferred way to be greeted was. I rapidly chose and decided what I felt was right at that particular moment with each arriving guest approaching me through the welcoming queue. I blended in with the few arriving before me and seamlessly joined in the laughter and exchanging of stories bringing each other current to our present lives that already started filling the air.
Zoey, the family dog also joined the queue of greeting arriving guests with each knock or ring of the doorbell, while the rest of us briefly darted our eyes towards the hallway to see who had just entered the house. It was much like exchanging and opening overdue Christmas gifts with each new guest arriving. As they proceeded walking through the hallway, only whispers could be heard, if I were to guess, we all must have thought the same, “who is that person, they do look familiar but I can’t recall their name?” Regardless, of knowing their name or not, with common threads in our fiber, we greeted each arriving guest with what now became eased comfortable rounds of more hugs than the initial handshakes and fist bumps. Each consequent arriving guest’s greeting became less awkward than the previous. Once each guest entered the hallway, the other host extended a genuine, warm welcome and continued walking with them towards the greeting queue. Many chose to linger in the large kitchen or some passed through to go out to the lanai, only to be greeted by those choosing to gather outdoors, much the same way they did for those gathering indoors.
I immediately noticed we all took time to be reintroduced to each other and perhaps spent a moment or two to be reacquainted by sharing a memory or catching up to current times. Ultimately, everyone connected with one or more in the group whom they naturally gravitated towards and deepened the reconnection through unforced dialogue and showing elated emotion in reuniting. This bonding successfully lessened the gap in the number of years since seeing each other. Dennis, shared a quick quip of his observations. He mentioned what he observed, laughing as he shared how time undeniably moved forward as many of the young men who once had a full head of hair are now middle aged with gray, little or no hair left on the top of their heads. He proudly hailed, still having all his hair and in original color too. Someone further added, the young ladies in the room are no longer girls they once remembered them as, but all grown-up young women. Despite the wrinkles etched in our smiles and the gray hairs adorning our heads, we all recognized each other’s same smile and the spark in each other's eyes.
Today, seemed like a handful of times, just this month alone, I felt my age in decades rather than years. I was surrounded with those who I have lost communication with for no less than five years. No matter how often I participate in some sort of reunion, the experience always leaves me feeling it’s surreal and overwhelming. This is where I can say I am more of a social introvert and not the shy boy I once was. I enjoy the occasions where I get to catch up with long lost people from my past, but at the same time it wears me down, much like a battery needing a recharge. This one particular reunion, especially hit hard, as I saw not just a couple but many faces of friends I have not seen or talked to in thirty plus years. It made me realize how easy it was to first delay, then postpone and ultimately reschedule time with friends who are like family. I promised myself, I will make a better effort to try harder and make it a priority to find time to appreciate the importance of getting together and enjoy moments and celebrate this gift afforded to us this day. Who would have ever thought yesterday’s katas and kumite would become today’s kinship of karateka’s past?
Faith and with some fate, intervened once again, bringing together a fairly good size of us to Michael and Annie's home. Without a second guess, they graciously hosted and opened their spacious home for our reunion. Among those, in attendance were our host Michael and his wife Annie L and their adorable fur baby Zoey, Jesse E, Ciro D, Patricia W and her two daughters Catherine and Tati, Dennis and his wife Lynn B, their son Jason B, Nick M, Christian G, Sensei (instructor) Bruce and his wife Linda S. There were a handful of unfamiliar faces whom joined the class after I dropped off but I assume they too shared the same sentiments for joining the karate club. I may not have had an opportunity to reminisce with them but enjoyed meeting and briefly chatting Carolina V, Cynthia C, Steve B and Robert B.
We all proudly cherished countless special memories close to our hearts, with just as many stories waiting to be shared with the entire group as opposed to the small side conversations we’ve been having. It didn’t take long, until someone volunteered to start off the sharing with almost the entire group one of these moments. As the story was being shared, the rest of us fondly reflected to 1984 when our entire karate club almost filled an entire movie theatre to see the original Karate Kid movie. We laughed at the time when our karate club in unison jeered at Daniel’s reply to his mom when she said, “You took karate,” and he frustratedly said, “Not at the Y, at a good school!” I still let out a chortle at this nostalgic memory. Bruce mentioned the time we went to a karate tournament in Miami. He asked us to be prepared to represent ourselves in a respectful attention stance with a respectful “kiai,” or shout out, should our karate club cross paths with famed martial artist, Ed Parker. The surprised reaction when Ed Parker passed our karate club as we were transitioning from one area to the next was returned to us when he came back to our group and chatted with us and posed for photographs.
Others fondly remembered special Saturday sessions held at local parks or the surprise activities, like the time we hiked from a distant mall to sensei Bruce’s home. At the time, his home was in the middle of nowhere, but has since become one of our county’s most populated cities. Some recalled the karate demonstrations at malls, much like the one Mom and I saw when we first moved to Hollywood and others told how it helped their overcome a fear of being the center of attention at public events. With contagious smiles spreading amongst each of us, we all nodded in agreement, when names of certain past participants where remembered who left profound memorable images surfaced in conversation. I found out chatting, I was not alone who thought Jack A, to this day will always remind me of Kramer from the Seinfeld franchise.
Our ever-growing karate club put on several demonstrations throughout the day when the YMCA held its grand opening of the new indoor gymnasium, all-purpose rooms and an indoor pool. Those who participated remembered each class put on various demonstrations of self-defense skills, kata drills and even a sample class to promote our program. Lastly, the highlight of many of our memories was being in attendance when Bruce’s conferred his first black belt to sensei Eric C. Our dojo was filled to capacity that evening with Eric’s family, guests and karate club members. Sensei Leo K, Bruce’s sensei and a few of his higher ranked karateka’s came into town and participated in the ceremony. Those of us in attendance, bared first hand witness to a ceremony filled with rituals, traditions, readings and excitedly watched Eric’s years of sweat and tears of knowledge be demonstrated in perfection. There were some present at the reunion, who too, firsthand experienced being conferred the coveted black belt, shared their own experiences of this most memorable moment in their karate years.
We continued reminiscing and shared stories of our lives: our triumphs and tribulations, our lives; the highs, the lows, and everything in between. We laughed until until our sides hurt, but we also shed a few tears for lost loved ones and missed opportunities. There were also moments of not so quiet reflection, as we listened attentively to each other’s sharing challenges and adversities they faced, the losses they endured and even the lessons learned along the way. Through it all, somehow, we found solace in each other's company, knowing that we were not alone in our struggles, only confirming our karate club family was and is still there, despite the passage of so many years.
Our choice of words may have varied, but pinnacle laid in testament of those present today, a connection of lifelong friendships was created; even after years of not crossing paths for a get together, finding time to catch up over coffee or even something as simple as picking up the phone for quick call, we still were able to rekindle friendships which became more like family. It felt as if only a mere few days passed since we last came together and saw each other, not the many years that indeed passed us by. Sensei Bruce’s choice of words perfectly stated, “We created something special and it will always be something special that we will fondly remember for the remainder of our days.”
Before we knew it, the day was quickly coming to an end, some friends slowly started saying their good-byes as they had longer drives to get home than others. Before we all went our separate ways, we took a group picture and agreed as if we had made a pact of sort, with a solemn promise or for no better term than a pinky promise, to not let another generation of years pass us by before reuniting again. We vowed to cherish each other, find time to celebrate life's joys and to lend a shoulder to those in times of need. With all good intentions and promises, we assured each other, we would continue to keep in contact with each other and most importantly make time to meet up with each other sooner not later. Time cannot slip by for us not to cherish the bond which brought us together so many years ago by forgoing any future gatherings and make any empty promises.
We said our goodbyes from a surreal day filled with contentment and our cups overflowing with a myriad of feelings, we parted consciously aware, despite the passage of time, we were and will remain a family. As I said my own goodbyes, I carried with me the joy of our reunion, knowing no matter where life’s journey takes us, we will always have each other. Before I knew it, I was saying my second round of goodbyes as I left out the door, with my heart filled with smiles, knowing time may have changed many things, but it could never erase the ties that bounded us together. Each of us went our separate ways home that day.
With one final wave of my hand, I entered my car and drove off into the proverbial sunsetting on another beautiful day gifted by God. Further down the street I drove away from Michael and Annie’s home, I saw their silhouettes became smaller, but their generous hospitality continued to overflow in my mind, as our karate club’s relived memories and rekindled friendships. I’d be remiss if I didn’t say, my eyes swelled with tears as I replayed the day’s events as I started driving back home. For the first time, in a very long time, I ruminated positively on a day’s events. In the amidst of the many tales of joy and sorrow, one truth shone brighter than the rest, how this unbreakable bond remained omnipresent. Coming together this past Saturday, despite the years of silence and separations, I left feeling elated and counted my day’s numerous blessings: from having a second chance to reacquaint with these individuals, knowing I can call still call them my friends who are like family and for the extraordinary forever memories etched deeply into my soul for my remaining years.
As I bring to close my words in a final thought. I often share with my closest friends, I strongly believe, and don’t live a life filled with regrets. My belief is everything happens in God’s time and reason. I may have failed the first time in keeping the communication lines open when my own life got in the way of living. I hope to do better, reaching out more frequently through social media and keep in contact or further reconnect with these individuals. The reunion on Saturday, April 20, 2024 validated Bruce’s statement and many of the sentiments of others, including myself which we shared. God brought together the right people through a common thread allowing us, to create “something special” as Bruce likes to say. Our extended family endured a generational absence through the strength of these invisible threads, which held this fabric together. Doubters may say, I over exaggerated and over extended the story with creative license. I’d like to believe my words were shared with the same sentiment by others present and they too carried with them the warmth of the day’s reunion, knowing all too well, that we are forever united by a single common thread, in this case, proved to endure time and show strength greater than what most black belts are made of.
For now,
“Kiotsukete. Oyasumi
Nasai , Mata Ato De!”
or
Take care. Good night and see you soon!
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| Then 1985 ... |
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| Now 2024 ... |
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