Dodged Another Apocalypse!

Yes, I am still here!

And here is actually at the home of my son and family - including my only grandchild.  Grammy & Papaw accompanied the family to the Tae-Kwon-Do studio this morning for the promotion ceremony where my grandson was awarded his purple belt.  That means he's a little over half way to the top of this martial arts regime, having only blue, brown and red belts to gain before entering the series of black-belt levels.  They seem to have broken it all into about twenty-five or so levels but with several designated by stripes on the various colored belts as they progress through the discipline.

I'm struggling a little with the whole concept but on the whole, it does appear to be the beginnings of some kind of disciplined outlook and interest in achievement on the part of this almost-seven-year-old.  He takes to the routine and is showing signs of being accomplished at taking instruction.

However, it is admittedly difficult for me to get enthusiastic about the whole thing.  First there's the fact that the visual of all these youngsters dressed alike in their white uniforms and standing at attention in a group, all falling into lines and following strict orders, brings startling reminders of the many militaristic modes within the human experience.  Not pleasant, to say the least.  Also the idea of my very special (to me) grandson falling in with all the others and made to look very UNspecial gives me pause.  And to further frustrate my sensitivities, it seems to me that all of these martial arts concepts and disciplines are precisely what they are labeled: art.  They surely are never very practical in the long arch of life unless the initial requirements of listening and following guidelines helps in some foundational way to begin forming social pathways to acceptable behavior.  I'd be interested to see some studies that link better citizenship and avoidance of gang activity that are substantively a result of these early training sessions.  Certainly the idea that anyone would ever expect to defend himself from would-be criminals, or even bullies, because he studied this ritualistic little art of holding poses and making interesting spins with precise hand gestures would be fool-hardy.

At any rate, while as a grandparent I am pleased to sit and watch him perform his forms and receive his accolades, I cannot do so without longing for the day when he gives it all up for piano lessons.  Those precise hand movements applied to a keyboard to create beautiful sounds - now that is the performance I would go a long way to attend!

And maybe now that doomsday didn't develop, there will one day come that opportunity to listen to my grandson the musical genius.  For now, I can merely love him and keep hoping.