Multi

I was looking at my picture with good ole Brigham Young and I realized that it probably invokes various thoughts in the people who read my blog. I personally love Brigham Young. He is one of the most tenacious and strong willed individuals in history. In spite of bloody persecution and an extermination order at the command of Governor Boggs, Brigham Young managed to herd a bunch of ill prepared Mormons across desolate plains only to come to a deserted valley which he turned into an oasis for those traveling in the name of freedom. His reverence for education served as the catalyst for the institutions which he erected all over Utah, the University of Utah being the first. Ironically that student body would hang him if they had the chance today. There is one major point of contest between President Young and myself and I believe that to be the chink in his armor. I stand with Joseph Smith in respect to race and the church. I know without a doubt that God is not a respecter of persons and that Brigham Young got it wrong in his stance against the blacks. He however was not alone in his beliefs according to the dictates of almost the entire society. I say almost as people like Joseph Smith and the Quakers (among various other small groups) were the few by a long shot. There really are only small numbers of people who love people because they are people without requisite. I love Winston Churchill as well and I am sure we are all painfully aware of his chinks. I guess it stands to reason that there just aren't any perfect people but there are good people who do great things. I can only imagine the trek across the plains with mostly women and children clinging to the bare handcarts, telling themselves to keep putting the next foot forward, waiting to die. I can only imagine being responsible for their care  and arrival. I can only imagine their painful deaths and suffering. I am proud to share in this heritage, to know that my ancestors crossed these plains. In keeping with seeing the good I applaud President Brigham Young for as I stretch my eyes across the valley I take in the amazing fruits of his labor. I see the creations of Utah and the prosperity and clean living. I see also the dirt and grime, the parts better left unspoken but the good far outweighs these and I bask in the glow that started with the Lion of the Lord.....Brigham Young.

Family is an interesting thing. I grew up in a very patriarchal home where my mother was a virtual door mat. My father was in charge of everything including our feelings and it was his way or the highway. Once they divorced it let up a bit but the intensity of his requests never diminished. It wasn't until I was 16 years old that I made the decision to walk to the beat of my own drum but even then it was with hesitation. I usually speak my mind but with my dad I try to keep myself with a certain parameter. At 38 years old it is the same. My father requested I compete in an annual tournament that he attends every May. This year my little brother would not be able to attend and my father had planned not to come at all. This is usually 1 of only 2 times we see my father during the year. He called and stated that if my brother wasn't coming then he wouldn't be either. I told him we still wanted to see him and in a moment of clarity he asked if I would compete. I stated there was too little time for preparation and I hadn't competed in years so that was a bad idea all around. Undeterred he latched on to his new idea with the conviction of a hungry predator and what was a passing thought turned into a full out demand. In the proceeding days I could not convince him that I was not competing. I would state emphatically that I was absolutely not competing and he would respond with a "yes you are, don't tell me no" answer. I was at a loss so I started to triage. The tournament has 2 categories; Kata (a memorized set of moves you perform) and Kumite(fighting). I am in pretty good condition. I usually exercise regularly but at the end of the school year I had little time or energy for my regular speed walking. In a nut shell I was not ready physically for the work out that would precede this contest. I knew Kata was out as I just didn't have the time to prepare but I thought if I just tried very hard not to get disqualified for unnecessary force then I might have a chance at the fighting.I knew I would be slower than usual and defeat was possible but if my dad wanted to reminisce then I would do my best to make it short and sweet. What a grand plan that went catastrophically wrong. I am a black belt and was put in with 3 other black belts. If I won I would fight the grand champion for the cup. As I fought the first competitor my confidence soared. I beat her 6-0. Each time they started the round I charged forward and the fear etched on her face was intoxicating. It was almost embarrassing as she was 10-15 years younger and had been preparing for this competition for years.The next fight was a little more exciting as this one had a some fight in her but as I aggressively pursued her she became more and more fearful. At some point I kicked her squarely in the gut and she toppled, crying out. Now we all know there is no crying in karate but there she lay crying. I was ashamed for her but again she had been working out for hours daily for the fight. I had not.Again a victory of 6-0. I didn't realize how much intensity I was fighting and using up large amounts of energy that was not being replaced. There was a 10 minute break while the men fought and I caught my breath feeling pretty good about myself. People were quite impressed that I was taking these younger girls so easily and my success was assured for the final fight.When I entered the ring the fatigue hit as my adrenaline shot through me. It was like the muscles were warning me to fight fast and furious and get it over. This round was 2 two minute rounds with a  minute break and 8 point total. The woman I was fighting was the sensie of the girl I made cry and I believe she was nursing a bit of a grudge. This might be a good time for a little back ground. As black belts we are allowed to hit to the face but with control. My control is limited as I have not been practicing so any hits to the face I made forcefully were not intentional. I still didn't cause the damage I worried I might but  none the less I didn't not have the control I usually do. This woman has been practicing for years and has perfect control. Her plow to my face was an act of revenge and I knew it. It woke me up and I wracked up a few points. By the end of the first round I was ahead by 1 but my body was drained. I had fought 2 competitors and she was fresh but I kept pressing. After the first punch to the face my anger rose and I popped her back effectively breaking her nose. The next jab blacked her eye. We started again and she came at me like a wild animal catching my lip and splitting it. Once the blood was under control they resumed the fight. I thought about calling the fight. Here we both stood bruised and battered and the judges were not calling points with the intent of extending the fight. No matter how I connected with her the point wasn't called. My legs were aching as the bruises swelled from contacting her. My face didn't look as bad as hers but I would need stitches for the gaping lip wound. It was at this moment that I realized how transitional life is. She was much older than me and the wounds I inflicted on her were hurtful to me. I called out at one point asking the judges how many times they wanted me to hit her face and was met with a reprimand. I realized these people had been in it too long. I stepped away for 20 years and when I came back the brutality was heartbreaking. I wanted to win but the satisfaction was not there when I did. I felt bad for hurting another human. I knew I could tear them apart but I wasn't satisfied in doing so. The second round ended with her ahead by one point thus giving her the hard fought victory. I can't say it wasn't frustrating because I intended to win but the disgust that I left the ring with was because I couldn't believe anyone would allow for such brutality unchecked. The judges would not give the controlled points because the match was getting too exciting. The crowd was on the edge and the blood added to their frenzy. I tried my best to end it and it should have ended much sooner. I was surprised they didn't try to extend but mercifully there was a winner and it came to a close. It was a bitter sweet moment as I realized I had evolved and they had stayed in the blood bath relishing their barbarism. I was taken to the hospital for stitches and diagnosed with a mild concussion. My legs are raised with bruises and I wonder as I look at my battered body what that poor woman if feeling today. Can she see out of her eye? Is her nose swollen up blocking her breathing? It wasn't worth it. The shiny cup wasn't worth it. As the master sensie called for me to ask me to join their team set for the Japanese championships I bowed with respect and thanked him for his offer then left to tend to the wounds unnecessarily inflicted for the shiny silver cup.