“Are you going to the funeral?” Joanne asked me over the phone.
“What funeral?” I replied.
This was how I learned that both of my parents died this week; from a casual phone call to my high school boyfriend's mother. We talk on the phone all the time. This time, we had something different to talk about. She assumed that someone else had already told me. Anyone else who could have, probably also assumed the same thing.
My parents were driving home from church on Tuesday when either they hit a semi tractor trailer or it hit them. Either way, their car lost. The strange part is that no big rig trucks should be driving on the small roads between their church and their house. But I don't know all the details. Maybe they went to a restaurant for dinner before going home or were on a larger street for any number of reasons.
What I know is that my father died on impact. My mother was taken to Fairview Southdale Hospital, which is usually ranked in the top 5% of Minnesota hospitals. I have no doubt that she got the best possible care. She died on Wednesday. I am not the least bit surprised that she hung on longer than he did. She was always more stubborn. He probably saw the truck, opened his arms wide and said, “Jesus, here I come.” She probably saw the truck and said, “Oh, hell no. Not today.”
I rarely talk about my parents. Mostly because they were horrible people. My mother always told me that if I did not have anything nice to say, I should not say anything at all, even though she had plenty of negativity to spread about others. I took her advice when it came to talking about her. They were horrible from my point of view. I'm sure most at their church thought they were the salt of the earth, and there was a good deal of grief and prayer when word came down about the truck joust. Especially since it happened right before Easter. Regardless of how I feel about my parents, I have some empathy for the congregation in that regard. I have no doubt they will all put on their Sunday best and carry on, but Easter is supposed to be about celebrating resurrection from the dead, not mourning real people who actually died. It's funny how subjective life is. While I think, if there was a Hell, my parents would now be roasting on a spit, other people who never had to live with them might think they should be canonized as saints.
On a strictly personal note, I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing. I did not jump up and down with joy when I heard that both of my parents ate it. I did not cry either. I am not particularly bothered, and that bothers me a little. You are supposed to feel something when your parents take a dirt nap; sad, happy, angry, shocked, or anything, really. I feel indifferent. Hearing about their deaths was like hearing about an old celebrity whose work I never paid attention to who died long after they stopped doing whatever made them famous. They were 67 and 61, not as old as anyone really needs to be when they die, but far from spring chickens.
I have an older brother. Though he and I never really had a falling out, our relationship was collateral damage in the war with my parents. He was forced to take a side and, probably wisely, he chose them. They could offer a roof over his head, food in his stomach, clothes on his back, and a college education that lead to a fulfilling future. All I could be to him was a sister.
I have not spoken to my parents or my brother since I was 16. Nothing is going to change with my parents, especially now. I probably always knew that, but there was a time or two when I thought that maybe we could put our differences aside, if not in some dramatic TV moment, at least in a temporary truce. My last drop of hope evaporated after I was in my own collision with a big rig truck. I was in Beijing, so obviously they were never going to visit, but there was not so much as a phone call or even a single emoji text message. I know they heard about it. I know people who know them, so even though there was no bilateral communication, they were given occasional intelligence. When told that their daughter was fighting against the gaping maw of death, they remained silent. I was already dead to them. Their death forever closes the door to any possible reconciliation. But that door was locked, sealed shut, barricaded, and walled up a long time ago.
The biggest unknown in this equation is my brother. Now that our parents are no longer an issue, can we be siblings again? But he is not the one who told me about them. He has been out from under their thumb and living his own life for well over a decade. He could have easily called me in Beijing, or any number of times, without fear of financial repercussions. They could have, and likely would have, been disappointed in him for contacting me. They could not affect his livelihood.
I found out about my parents from my high school boyfriend's mother. That sounds strange, but I speak to her far more often than anyone to whom I am actually related. We will call the mother Joanne, because that may or may not be her name. Joanne feels more like a mother to me than anyone else. She was always more of a mother to me in high school than my actual biological mother.
There is also the issue of the funeral. I could go. Now might not be the best time to travel to the United States, and I could really do without all the TSA bullshit at American airports, but the people who stamp passports would have to let me in. Getting time off work is easy, especially when someone dies. It is illegal in this country for an employer to interfere with a relative's funeral, parents especially. But I have no desire to go to the funeral, and I would not be able to say anything. You have to say nice things at someone's funeral. I can't think of anything nice, aside from, “They never murdered us in our sleep, so that's something.” I doubt that would go over well. There is no real reason to go.
I said goodbye to them a long time ago. It was more like go fuck yourselves than goodbye, but the results were the same.
They would not want me there anyway.
Saturday, April 16, 2022
Monday, April 4, 2022
Two Down, Eighteen To Go
My krav maga instructor went back to Israel. He wanted to go back as soon as the plague started, but I guess being in a country that is practically unaffected is better than going to a place that was hit pretty hard in the beginning. After the initial blast, Israel was one of the first countries to start working on a vaccine, and they started shipping drugs to other countries long before Russia and the United States got the spotlight for shipping their drugs. After he returned, cases went up. That is probably a coincidence.
On a slightly smaller scale than a worldwide pandemic, that left me without a teacher. We do not exactly have krav maga schools on every corner around here. According to the Times of Israel, there are about 500 Israelis living in Taiwan, and the overwhelming majority live in Taipei. I know nothing about where the Times of Israel leans politically or how respected they are. The only newspapers I remember anyone reading when I worked in Tel Aviv were the Jerusalem Post and Haaretz, though there are plenty of others. The government of Taiwan does not publish an easy spreadsheet of every foreign resident's nationality, and they have never been interested in keeping track of anyone's religious affiliations, which makes sense when Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism tend to overlap, and all of them mix and match with a wide variety of folk religions. Trying to label everyone would be a nightmare.
The good news is that my krav maga instructor recommended a replacement before he left the country. I was not especially happy about it since he was my third instructor and now I had to move on to number four. For some reason, I was hoping to have the same dashi for 20 years. So far, none of them have lasted 20 months.
My new laoshi is Taiwanese. I was reluctant at first. My previous instructors were Israeli, which I preferred since krav maga was born and raised in Israel. Then I looked up the new guy's CV. He has more than enough wushu experience in wing chun, jujutsu, and aikido, and has been studying krav maga for almost as long as I have been alive. I never thought twice about learning the Indian religion of Buddhism from Taiwanese monks, so why not continue learning Israeli defense from a Taiwanese shifu?
Not that I need the most advanced grand master for a teacher. I have been studying krav maga for two years this month. I am a lifetime away from being an expert. At best, I will be able to say I know a little something about it after 20 years. In the meantime, I can probably disable an attacker, assuming they have no experience. I am in no position to win any trophies. Fortunately, and one of the things I like about krav maga, is that it is not about scoring points in a competition. It is about defending yourself in real life as quickly and aggressively as possible. Unlike most East Asian forms, there is no such thing as an illegal move. In a judo competition, there are rules and regulations. You can get disqualified for doing something the wrong way. In krava maga, you can do whatever it takes to stop your opponent, depending on local laws.
My personal favorite move entails breaking an elbow and/or dislocating a shoulder. I have never used it in a real world situation, and hope I never do. It seems like it would be pretty effective. Breaking legs is also surprisingly easy. The femur is the strongest bone in the body, but snap the patella and that person is going down immediately. Disable the connection between femur and tibia and walking is impossible, even if the bones are fully intact. Actually breaking someone's femur can easily lead to lifelong issues. Instead, you can dislocate their patella without causing any permanent injury, as long as they get prompt medical attention.
My last instructor spent about a month teaching me how to break bones in the hand, with emphasis on the thumb. The thumb is a good target because of its importance to most people, and it usually stands apart from the fingers. Fracture someone's pinkie and they might keep charging, though unlikely. Pretty much everyone forgets whatever they were trying to do once their thumb is hanging flaccid.
Naturally, we learned about other soft targets. The eyes and throat are impressively weak spots. I want to assume I would hesitate in injuring someone's eyes, even in a life or death situation. It seems to me that potentially blinding someone permanently should be off limits, but in krav maga, nothing is off limits. The groin is especially popular, and one of the first body parts most men reflexively protect. No one ever protects their hands. There is also a neat trick involving the attacker's liver, but you have to know exactly where it is without any diagrams, and most of it is protected by ribs.
Do I really need to know how to break another person's bones? Not at all. I live in Taiwan and sometimes China. The odds of my being physically attacked or robbed by a stranger are practically nil. This is not that kind of culture.
As much as I love almost everything about Japan, I am more likely to be harassed there than here. Japan is enlightened in many ways, but still has a problem with entitled men who think women are property. As an obvious foreigner, I have never personally experienced it, and most likely never will. I am a little surprised that creepy men grabbing women in public is still a thing in the 21st century. It is very illegal, and the police take it more seriously than they ever have, but the people with the most power are always slow to stop acting like tiny dicks. If Japanese women knew krav maga, it would end overnight.
I might never work in Tel Aviv again. I have no doubt I will go back to visit some day. Israel might not be as safe as Japan, but it is nothing like the war zone Americans are told it is. I never felt anything but safe on the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Those would seem like the perfect places to practice some krav maga moves. Or maybe not, since more people know how to respond there. Most Israelis spend two or three years in the military, the home of krav maga.
I used to work in Europe from time to time. Not so much lately. I assume I will work there again in the future, after they fix their health issues. Amsterdam, Barcelona, and Paris are all wonderful cities. And far more dangerous than Israel or Japan. The laws in the Netherlands, Spain, and France oppose most acts of violence. As a foreigner, I am more likely to be targeted by pickpockets than anything else. I never have been, though I think that would be a better scenario than some crazy dude with a knife.
Legally, I am an American citizen. I have only set foot in the country three times in the last ten years, but I can go there any time. It is one of the few places in the world where they have to let me in, no matter what. It is also the most dangerous place I will ever go. This is the internet, so I have to point out that, no, I am not saying the United States is the most dangerous country in the world. It is the most dangerous country I will probably ever know. I have no intention of ever going to Yemen or Afghanistan. You never know what the future holds, but I'm not going to break out the Fodor's North Korea just yet.
In the United States, I am far more likely to be attacked, robbed, and/or shot than anywhere else I have ever been. I would bet serious money that I will never be attacked anywhere in Europe. I would bet everything I own that I will never be shot in China or Japan. Whenever I leave the United States, I am more than a little surprised that I was not the victim of one crime or another. Of every place on this planet that I have ever been and am ever likely to go, krav maga is most useful in the United States.
Of course, this is all academic. I am a third year student. There is far more in front of me to learn than behind me. And if I were ever in a situation where I actually needed to use it, for all I know, I might curl up in a ball and pass out. Anyone can say they would be the nerves of steel badass, run into the burning building, and single-handedly save the universe from alien invasion, but you never really know how you will react to something out of the ordinary until it happens. More often than not, my fight or flight response is to fight. Manly men tough guys think that is cool, even though running away is often the absolute best thing you can do. In the unlikely event that I ever need it, learning krav maga could protect me from my own instincts to investigate the fire.
Even if I never get to break any bones, krav maga has taught me a great deal about situational awareness and intuition training. And the extra exercise never hurts.
On a slightly smaller scale than a worldwide pandemic, that left me without a teacher. We do not exactly have krav maga schools on every corner around here. According to the Times of Israel, there are about 500 Israelis living in Taiwan, and the overwhelming majority live in Taipei. I know nothing about where the Times of Israel leans politically or how respected they are. The only newspapers I remember anyone reading when I worked in Tel Aviv were the Jerusalem Post and Haaretz, though there are plenty of others. The government of Taiwan does not publish an easy spreadsheet of every foreign resident's nationality, and they have never been interested in keeping track of anyone's religious affiliations, which makes sense when Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism tend to overlap, and all of them mix and match with a wide variety of folk religions. Trying to label everyone would be a nightmare.
The good news is that my krav maga instructor recommended a replacement before he left the country. I was not especially happy about it since he was my third instructor and now I had to move on to number four. For some reason, I was hoping to have the same dashi for 20 years. So far, none of them have lasted 20 months.
My new laoshi is Taiwanese. I was reluctant at first. My previous instructors were Israeli, which I preferred since krav maga was born and raised in Israel. Then I looked up the new guy's CV. He has more than enough wushu experience in wing chun, jujutsu, and aikido, and has been studying krav maga for almost as long as I have been alive. I never thought twice about learning the Indian religion of Buddhism from Taiwanese monks, so why not continue learning Israeli defense from a Taiwanese shifu?
Not that I need the most advanced grand master for a teacher. I have been studying krav maga for two years this month. I am a lifetime away from being an expert. At best, I will be able to say I know a little something about it after 20 years. In the meantime, I can probably disable an attacker, assuming they have no experience. I am in no position to win any trophies. Fortunately, and one of the things I like about krav maga, is that it is not about scoring points in a competition. It is about defending yourself in real life as quickly and aggressively as possible. Unlike most East Asian forms, there is no such thing as an illegal move. In a judo competition, there are rules and regulations. You can get disqualified for doing something the wrong way. In krava maga, you can do whatever it takes to stop your opponent, depending on local laws.
My personal favorite move entails breaking an elbow and/or dislocating a shoulder. I have never used it in a real world situation, and hope I never do. It seems like it would be pretty effective. Breaking legs is also surprisingly easy. The femur is the strongest bone in the body, but snap the patella and that person is going down immediately. Disable the connection between femur and tibia and walking is impossible, even if the bones are fully intact. Actually breaking someone's femur can easily lead to lifelong issues. Instead, you can dislocate their patella without causing any permanent injury, as long as they get prompt medical attention.
My last instructor spent about a month teaching me how to break bones in the hand, with emphasis on the thumb. The thumb is a good target because of its importance to most people, and it usually stands apart from the fingers. Fracture someone's pinkie and they might keep charging, though unlikely. Pretty much everyone forgets whatever they were trying to do once their thumb is hanging flaccid.
Naturally, we learned about other soft targets. The eyes and throat are impressively weak spots. I want to assume I would hesitate in injuring someone's eyes, even in a life or death situation. It seems to me that potentially blinding someone permanently should be off limits, but in krav maga, nothing is off limits. The groin is especially popular, and one of the first body parts most men reflexively protect. No one ever protects their hands. There is also a neat trick involving the attacker's liver, but you have to know exactly where it is without any diagrams, and most of it is protected by ribs.
Do I really need to know how to break another person's bones? Not at all. I live in Taiwan and sometimes China. The odds of my being physically attacked or robbed by a stranger are practically nil. This is not that kind of culture.
As much as I love almost everything about Japan, I am more likely to be harassed there than here. Japan is enlightened in many ways, but still has a problem with entitled men who think women are property. As an obvious foreigner, I have never personally experienced it, and most likely never will. I am a little surprised that creepy men grabbing women in public is still a thing in the 21st century. It is very illegal, and the police take it more seriously than they ever have, but the people with the most power are always slow to stop acting like tiny dicks. If Japanese women knew krav maga, it would end overnight.
I might never work in Tel Aviv again. I have no doubt I will go back to visit some day. Israel might not be as safe as Japan, but it is nothing like the war zone Americans are told it is. I never felt anything but safe on the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Those would seem like the perfect places to practice some krav maga moves. Or maybe not, since more people know how to respond there. Most Israelis spend two or three years in the military, the home of krav maga.
I used to work in Europe from time to time. Not so much lately. I assume I will work there again in the future, after they fix their health issues. Amsterdam, Barcelona, and Paris are all wonderful cities. And far more dangerous than Israel or Japan. The laws in the Netherlands, Spain, and France oppose most acts of violence. As a foreigner, I am more likely to be targeted by pickpockets than anything else. I never have been, though I think that would be a better scenario than some crazy dude with a knife.
Legally, I am an American citizen. I have only set foot in the country three times in the last ten years, but I can go there any time. It is one of the few places in the world where they have to let me in, no matter what. It is also the most dangerous place I will ever go. This is the internet, so I have to point out that, no, I am not saying the United States is the most dangerous country in the world. It is the most dangerous country I will probably ever know. I have no intention of ever going to Yemen or Afghanistan. You never know what the future holds, but I'm not going to break out the Fodor's North Korea just yet.
In the United States, I am far more likely to be attacked, robbed, and/or shot than anywhere else I have ever been. I would bet serious money that I will never be attacked anywhere in Europe. I would bet everything I own that I will never be shot in China or Japan. Whenever I leave the United States, I am more than a little surprised that I was not the victim of one crime or another. Of every place on this planet that I have ever been and am ever likely to go, krav maga is most useful in the United States.
Of course, this is all academic. I am a third year student. There is far more in front of me to learn than behind me. And if I were ever in a situation where I actually needed to use it, for all I know, I might curl up in a ball and pass out. Anyone can say they would be the nerves of steel badass, run into the burning building, and single-handedly save the universe from alien invasion, but you never really know how you will react to something out of the ordinary until it happens. More often than not, my fight or flight response is to fight. Manly men tough guys think that is cool, even though running away is often the absolute best thing you can do. In the unlikely event that I ever need it, learning krav maga could protect me from my own instincts to investigate the fire.
Even if I never get to break any bones, krav maga has taught me a great deal about situational awareness and intuition training. And the extra exercise never hurts.
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