The Organization PT II: The Early Years
I actually completed my introductory lessons at the old location, up the road from the new strip mall that the dojo would soon be relocating to. The introductory lessons, or 1st 5er as it was affectionately known as, was essentially an overview of Kenpo as it was taught at the school. In those times, you learned a basic kick, training stance, guard stance, a block, a punch, a combination block-punch, and the first half of a self defense maneuver called Kimono Grab, which taught the student to stop a “bad guy” from executing a two handed grab to the lapel area and push. After you remove the opponents hands from you, the intent is then to strike his throat, forearm the head, punch the groin, then kick them in the stomach. It is kind of the self-defense equivalent of “shock and awe”. If done correctly, the intention is that the bad-guy never lay his hands on you, or pretty near anyone, again.
My instructor for those first few lessons was the man who ran the school at the time, Robert Porras. Mr. Porras was a shortish, slightly built man of debatable ethnic origin, with a closely cut flattop and large, slightly tinted eyeglasses. He seemed nice enough and taught me three enthustically delivered lessons, in which we continued to learn the basics of the system, the whole time slipping in comments like “Wow, Vincent that was excellent” or “Yeah, if you do it like that it will work”. At the end of the third lesson he revealed to me his secret plan: My teacher and I were going to team up and show my parents all I had learned, then we would sit down and talk about if you want to keep doing Kenpo.
“Vincent, you do want to keep doing Kenpo, right?” Do I? Three lessons in and I have formed a secret partnership with my instructor to show my parents the light. Of course I wanted to continue.
So, the forth lesson, the big show. My chance to show my parents exactly how committed I could be. I trained, I practiced, I showed off. Then my parents, Mr. Porras, and I retired to his office and sat down. He spoke to me first.
“Looks like you had a bit of a workout there!”
“Yes sir.”
“Now Vincent, do you feel like this is something you would be willing to work hard at?”
“Of course”
“Well Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore, we work all of our students on what we call the international belt system, it shows you where you’re at, and where you’re going…”
Mr. Porras laid out the whole thing for my parents, where I was at, where I was going. Then it happened. Everything had been going so well and he ruined it, he broke out the one stipulation that I had feared going into this:
“We have 1, 2, and 3 year agreements, at a cost of $14, $13, and $12 a week respectively”.
My parents heads, almost in slow motion, turned to face me; their knowing eyes soaking in my fear, narrowing to shield themselves from the glare of my previous childhood failures at commitment. Then the strangest thing happened: they looked at each other, then back at me,
“What do you think Vincent?”
I didn’t even realize which one of them had said it, all I knew was that there was a crack in the levy, a chink in the armor. I knew what I had to do; they had given space, now so must I. They had met me halfway, and I knew I had to go with the one year. Show them my commitment, but also display for my loving parents my sense of realism and introspection. Show them I was strong, while showing my weakness; show teeth and belly simultaneously. The one year, here it goes, the one year…
“Oh, the three years, definitely the three years!!! I am totally into this.”
Damnit.
My one chance, and I was victimized by Premature-Enunciation.
My parents for their part, turned from me back to Mr. Porras, and then to each other, had a brief exchange that got drowned out by the ringing in my ears, turned back to Mr. Porras and nodded,
“OK then, we’ll do the three year.”
…
Good God, they cracked, they were supposed to argue that! They were supposed to refuse, sighting my previous failures at commitment, then me and my Karate…no my Kenpo teacher would team up and get Karate Mojo all over them and Jedi Mind Trick them into signing for the one year! But instead they called my bluff. Caught up in the commitment tree by a lion of my own making I did what any self-respecting 14 year old would do: I reinforced my lie.
“Thanks, I am totally serious about this you won’t regret this”

A year later I was in my instructor’s office, getting talked out of quitting.
Rueben, Mr. Porras’ little brother, a strangely androgynous smallish man who kind of reminded me of the sister’s that shared the eye in Clash of the Titans, convinced me to give it 6 more months. If I still wanted to quit, him and his brother would let me out of our contract.
It turned out that six months later, neither he, nor his brother would still be at the dojo.


Next: The Gathering Storm (oooh, dramatic literary title!)