A Tribute to my First Instructor

My world is a little darker.  The sun doesn't warm my face as much. It’s a little quieter and not so full of sound and life.  I just found out my father in law passed away peacefully in his sleep.

In my past blog posts, I've talked about the men in my life that have filled the role of Grandmaster in my life.  But I’ve never shared my appreciation and stories for my 1^st instructor, Mr. Elias Oyzon.  I would never be here where I am today if he didn’t get me started.

My shock is not so much of his death.  Everyone dies.  It’s part of life.  It was the fact that he was so young.  So vibrant.  So alive.  So strong.   I say this knowing he was over 80 years old.  He was an amazing, inspiring man.

I met Elias Oyzon in the summer of 1985 when I fell in love with his daughter.  My own family was in the midst of imploding, and Eli took me under his wing.  He and his family opened their doors, their hearts and their worlds to me, setting me on the path that I proudly walk today. 

During the customary exploratory discovery period of our new relationship, I found out that that Elaine’s dad was a black belt in Taekwondo.  As I think back, I now realize that he may have let this information “slip” in addition to showing me the WWII Japanese samurai sword he had from a relative the served in the war.  Both good reminders for any teenage boyfriend of your daughter.

I always had an interest in the martial arts, but never had the opportunity to train.  After many months of badgering, Dad agreed to teach me, Beau, Ben (Elaine’s brothers) and a couple of their friends Taekwondo. 

Dad earned his black belt in 1971 while in Vietnam.  He was "old school".  Deep, powerful stances, knuckle push ups on the asphalt driveway, and the "one strike-one kill" mentality when it came to punches and kicks.  We loved the training, and I think and hope he enjoyed the teaching.

Beau and Ben were (and still are) far better than I was.  They were faster, more flexible and just looked better doing Taekwondo.  Dad had a favorite story of that time together.  We were all in the driveway practicing.  Dad lined us up and instructed us to kick over his head.  Beau and Ben delivered beautiful, high-section kicks.  Then I got up, and delivered my best kick….right to the side of his head.  Thankfully, he was fine and he didn’t throw me out.  I however have erased this memory from my mind out of what I’m sure now is pure horror and embarrassment. 

Dad love to golf and I had the pleasure to play with him many times.  He constantly offered me pointers and tips, and was incredibly generous with equipment.  Now please understand, when I say “play golf with Dad” I mean watch the guy play the game beautifully while I try not to embarrass myself, break any clubs, or kill a fellow golfer with an accidentally shanked ball.  I’m terrible at golf.  I know this.  And Dad knew this.  But he played with me anyway and tried to remain supportive, positive and quiet while I hacked away at the game that he loved.  What he couldn’t hide were his expressions!

Dad also loved cards.  He loved the bluffing, trash talking, comradie and drinking that were all part of a good card game.  While I didn’t share this appreciation, I think a good New Year’s resolution for me is to engage more in card games with people.  Aggravation anyone?

Dad also loved to sing.  Johnny Mathis, and the other standards were his favorites.  He even bought a karaoke machine for his house. I think it might have been broken though, because he always scored really high.

Dad had a temper.  It waned over the years as he aged, but I got to enjoy it up close and personal a few times.  The first time (and the one I remember the most) was when we were all living in Rome, NY.  John (Beau) and I were still teenagers and Ben was a pre-teen.  It was one of the lazy, endless summer days I spent over at their house.  Beau and I in a moment of sheer teenage brilliance thought it would be funny and a great idea to throw Benny, then 11 or 12 into the pool.  Benny was on the couch…and here’s the rub of the whole story…”sleeping”.  Beau and I grabbed him hand and foot, carried him like Han Solo captured by the Ewoks, and unceremoniously tossed him into the pool. 

What followed next was one of the great chase scenes of all time.  On par with the car chase in Bullitt.  Dad picked up a bat and took after Beau and I.  Round and round the house we went.  Today after so many years, I don’t remember how long the chase went, or why he finally (and thankfully) gave up.  But I’m pretty sure that if he caught us, I might not be here today.

Dad filled a room with his personality and smile.  He would talk to anyone about anything, making them feel welcome and a part of his world.

These were some of his favorite sayings, and I can still hear them echoing through the house.

There is no discussion of Dad without mentioning his generosity.  It was a generosity that was sincere, gigantic, and unbelievable.  He was constantly slipping one of his kids, grand-kids, nieces or nephews money.  He came to financial rescue of all his family several times over the years, including me. 

Dad taught me so much.  Never in a direct, sit-down, open your textbook to page 34 and recite together kind of way.  But in the way a true teacher, leader and man should teach others.  By example. 

So what did I learn from him?

#1           Always open your home to people. 

#2           Love your family with all your heart in an accepting, unconditional way.

#3           Be as generous as possible to people.

#4           Exercise, laugh, smile and sing as often as possible

Thanks Dad.  I will miss you terribly and will try to live up to the standard you set.

Until next time, train hard and I'll see you on the mat.