We are ALL Chuck Norris here.

 

It’s an odd moment of life I find myself in. Look, I’ve harped enough about my last job for two years, and I’m truly done focusing on it. REALLY, you guys. I’ve moved on. 

I have the Bayshore Club now, and Tai Chi, and Piano lessons. But I'm at a bit of a crossroads, here. What to do now? What gets priority in this different way of living? 

And there’s closer attention to be paid at home. Somehow, Drew and I are still together after all this, and we seem to be doing well again.  

Certainly neither of us is getting any younger. He’d like to do some traveling while still young & healthy enough to enjoy it, and (as it turns out) he’d like me to come along. Traveling companions on this journey called life, etcetera. 

And really, Tonez, does that sound so terrible? No, methinks. No, it does not. 

*    *    *

I was pondering all this yesterday and I realized again just how traumatic these last two years have been, with the stint in rehab, my parents’ deaths from Covid, the relapse, the strain on this 38-year relationship, and through all of it, every minute of it, that fucking relentless psychotic job. 

I honestly don’t know how I got through some of those days. There were mornings I felt physically incapable of getting out of bed — not for any physical reason, but because of the existential dread of whatever I was facing that day. Somehow, I always managed to put my feet to the floor. Somehow, I showed up day after thankless day. 

Quitting that job was the best thing I ever did. It closed the book on everything else that happened during that time. Good riddance to all of it. 

*    *    *

I got to my first Tai Chi class right on time. There was already a room full of students when I arrived. I saw one of the older gals who had talked to me on my previous visit, Kathy. They were all pretty nice and seemed happy that I was discovering Tai Chi. 

Sufi showed me the first moves, a series of precise hand and arm movements that end  with a forward step from right foot, to left. There was a younger woman who was also just starting — it was her third class — and we were in a section of the floor by ourselves for the first part. 

Everyone here has a blackbelt in something

As we were setting up, I mentioned to one of the older women that I was really happy to find the studio. I thought I would score points by telling her that I had once, decades ago, been a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. She was unimpressed. 

Black belt, black belt, black belt...

“We were all black belts in something,” she shrugged. “See that lady over there? Black belt in Jiu Jitsu. That guy at the back is former Kung Fu, second degree black belt. Those two ladies talking in the corner? Both black belts. Those three by the door? Black belt, black belt, black belt in something, something, something.” 

“So, we’re like the Justice League of former black belt has-beens?” I asked her. She stared at me.

Eventually the class coalesced and everyone took their marks. I don’t know enough of the moves yet to join the larger group, so I stayed to the side and repeated the moves I knew. 

One thing became immediately clear: My balance sucks. I was barely able to stand on one foot. This from a guy who could once dance on the head of a pin, like the angles.

 

Pretty sure these are all black belts.

Part of it the problem was my wobbly right knee. I had injured it some 35 years ago, torn meniscus, had surgery to fix it. The surgery was a success, but the knee has been wobbly ever since. It’s a big part of why I never went back to martial arts for all these years. That, and sheer laziness. 

Anyway, there’s something about performing a simple task with slow deliberation that that isn’t as simple as it sounds. It was surprisingly difficult for me to simply raise my left foot and balance on my right. Slowing moving it to the next mark, deliberately setting the foot down, slowly pivoting while staying balanced on one foot — soon I was sweating. 

After about an hour, I told Sufi I needed to leave soon for another thing He looked surprised. “You can’t leave until I’m convinced you know these moves enough to practice them at home.” 

Oh. Okay. How long is this class normally, then? I had assumed about an hour or so. Class ends at 1:00, he told me. I still had two more hours. 

I can’t wait to go back on Tuesday!