Cal -
We are both lucky to have made it to an age where we can collect social security. I put myself in dangerous situations that I could not fight my way out of but always was able to BS my way out of. Now I am as law-abiding as a church deacon.
You remind me in some ways of a fourth generation I used to work with at P@B San Ramon. Most likely Cantonese but named Sean. And a bike nut. He and the other bike nuts would get in their Pearl Izumis and bike like fiends on their lunch hours. You know how competitive those work peletons can get. The funny part was that he was as brown as a nut. I mean really tan. And I always thought of the LOL's fresh from HK with their caps and hand covers to keep their skins pale. Yeah, Sean was really assimilated and one hot shot tech programmer. Weird, mind bending code was effortless for him. He was part of the elite core of tech programmers. Another was a Mexican guy who was sharp as hell, too. He's take a week or so to visit his brother who was picking vegetables. They'd hang out and drink long necks. He and another Mexican tech programmer were always kind enough to cut me in on the Christmas tamale legacy. I didn't share them with my wife. ;o)
So much of my life is happy memories. I have my share of mistakes, some colossal, but mostly in the minority. If life were fair, I'd be dead.
And now I get to hang out here, chat with some interesting folks and see scenes from all over the world which hopefully will teach me how to better photograph what is going on around me. I'm a really lucky guy.
B,
Never thought I would live this long. Although I was not in the military I had PTSD. Growing up was dangerous for me, I stood out, and I was a target. I had enough experience fighting.
When I first met “Maggie” over 20 years ago she learned never to come up from behind me because I would have a violent startle reflex. I came close to punching her many times. She would announce, “I’m coming in the room now, please don’t kill me.” The carpeted floors muffled her footsteps, and we agreed that carpets were dangerous.
In the past someone on an empty Subway platform came from behind and tapped me on the shoulder. My reflex was to turning around and throwing a right. A teenager was laying on the ground, and he asked, “Why did you hit me?”
He just wanted to know if we were on the side heading towards Manhattan.
One day at work I get a call, and I had to leave because my step-daughter was in a fight. I am told that today that about half of the fights are between girls. I did not have to inquire about why the fight happened because I already knew part of it was racism, part of it was because we rented and did not own a house, and the girl who was involved in the fight formally was a friend that turned on her.
When I asked what happened, evidently it was group and peer pressure that lead to bullying that we now know is commonplace in today’s culture in schools.
My ex-wife was a trophy, a Latina who was not fluent in English to compound things. Also know that Daniella was always a timid gentile child.
Daniella had a huge black eye. She kept on backing up but eventually she got clocked by a roundhouse. The first thing I taught her was never back up in a fight. Move sideways or better yet forward. The point being is that you loose all your power in your upper body when moving backwards. Standard boxing technics.
Then I taught her to jab with the left as a defensive move, I showed her how throwing straight punches was more accurate than slow roundhouses, and because they were faster more effective in hitting their target.
Then I taught her how to step into a punch for power…
We practiced… BTW Daniella was in perhaps 7th grade.
The very next day I get called at work again because there was another fight. Evidently further bullying went on in a class that this ex-friend and Daniella had that lead up to the treat, “Do you want another black eye?”
Daniella only threw one punch, and she opened up the girl’s eye that required 7 stitches.
At the principal’s office, I put on the required show, but in the car again I asked what happened. Then I taught the most important lessen which is to avoid a fight whenever possible, but when you do have to fight you really have to hurt the other person, and never give them the chance to recover, getup, and eventually win the fight.
I confirmed that she did the right thing, but next time try to use a little restraint.
So I was expecting to get sued. Don’t know if the 7 stitches would lead to any scarring, but my wish is for that girl to have a reminder.
I have narrow shoulders, but extra long arms. The “circle” I fight uses full extension for leverage. Also even though I consider myself an endurance athlete, I genetically have fast twitch muscles for speed and strength. In high school I was one f the fastest on my feet, so speed and physics are on my side.
In boxing with 16-ounce gloves I would spar with my friends, some older, and all bigger than me. There problem was trying to hit me. I am bow-legged due to Rickets and malnutricion, but bow-legged people are hyper agile and can change direction rapidly to outflank an opponent.
I learned that martial artists don’t like fighting western boxers for basically three reasons: boxers have more upper body strength and are trained to exploit that; hands and arms are faster than feet or legs; and most of all that boxers are use to getting hit hard.
My friends would throw a punch, miss, and then get tagged with a left and a right. All this would happen in a blink of an eye, and there is no way to defend from such an assault that involves such speed.
Then there is the accuracy of a offensive jab that sets up for the deadly right…
My younger brother had a scab on the bridge of his nose right in between his eyes, and I asked him how that happened. He was riding his bike and got hit by a lit cigarette thrown from a passing car.
”A freak accident,” was my response, “But no,” said my little brother, “It was done on purpose. They laughed.”
All I can say is that rage is a conditioned response, and dangers were real, but my greatest fear growing up was killing someone, because I know I can do it.
One day boxing in Danny’s backyard, I was going to box with Billy my best friend who was a year older than me. Billy was German and 6’2” and a fully developed man, and I was still a scrawny kid with my boyish body. The first round was just sparring, but in the second round the first punch thrown by Billy split my lip, then my instinct and reflexes stepped in.
A left jab, followed by my deadly right. Billy’s brain bounced off the back of his scull and he was blacking out. His arms fell to his sides, he was falling forward, as I stepped forward to finish him off with an uppercut.
So all this happened in a blink of an eye, without any thinking, and was like a reflex, but somehow I turned to divert the uppercut that would of caused serious brain damage.
There are things you can control, and there are things that you can’t. I learned a lesson, and I knew that things can get carried away too fast and it is really not so hard to kill someone because it can happen so fast. In my case literally in a blink of an eye.
Anyways, rage can be a source of power, but it is very hard to control.
I lost contact with my little brother, and one day out of the blue he E-mailed me. One of the first questions I asked, “Did you kill anyone yet?” “No. I have not killed anyone yet,” was his response.
What is understood between us that we are fully automatic guns loaded with the safety off because of the conditioning we received during the Vietnam era growing up as little kids.
Cal
