This
is a lie.
We’re
not friends.
Our sometimes-complicated relationship has always been more than that—for much longer than that. And it’s something for which I’m deeply grateful today.
Kyoshi
Ivan (kyoshi is a title given to karate masters) was a father figure to me
during the years in which I had no relationship or contact with my alcoholic father. Kyoshi was my first karate
instructor, and I idolized him. He was strong, confident, and
generous. As a karate instructor, he was tough, demanding, and inspiring.
Kyoshi Ivan Ujueta of the Professional Karate Institute in San Antonio
I
remember the first time I saw him 25 years ago at a San Antonio mall. I gazed
with other onlookers through a glass storefront window while he taught a bunch
of karate kids. He had a bald head, a finely trimmed goatee, and arms to rival
Popeye. I was mesmerized, and I pretty much stayed that way the entire time I
trained with him.
Oh,
let's be frank: he scared the crap outta me, too.
There
were many days when I was sure I’d die during one of his workouts. He taught
jukido (“the gentle, powerful way”), an eclectic blend of half a dozen Japanese,
Chinese, and Korean martial arts. I was terrified almost every day on the mat. He
made me get over my fear of rolling (I might break my neck), falling (I might
break my arm), and sparring (I might die for lack of oxygen).
There
were many tests I was sure I’d fail. I never did.
There
were times—fewer and thus that much more memorable—when he praised my
performance and technique in front of my classmates.
He helped me through many dark days of early sobriety. I doubt he realized this. He was so important to me. I wanted to be like him in so many ways. I
loved him dearly, as I would my own father.
When I moved away two years later to take a job at a
newspaper in Austin, I left with mixed emotions. By then, we had grown
spiritually close, and then grew spiritually apart, for we held
different views. The details are unimportant, for the ultimate outcome is more telling:
When
I opened Tao of Texas Martial Arts Institute in 2006, he was the first
instructor I hosted for a seminar. My students loved him, and some still talk
about his dynamic, powerful presence.
Through
the years, we have somehow maintained a special relationship. Few
may ever really get how much we mean to each other. And that’s O.K. No one else
has to understand. A higher power put us together at the same place and the same time for different reasons. We each honored that meeting, and that's all that matters to me.
So, Facebook, thanks for the (erroneous) reminder. Kyoshi and I have been more than friends for more than four years, and today, I’m
grateful.
