The Striking Post

A phone call came in a while back from a friendly guy named Scott. Scott works with a group called New Horizon Ministries, these folks work with street kids. Scott wanted to know if I would do a class or two with the street kids. Of course, the answer was yes. These kids show up and pile out of the van. They dive right in loud and full of grins.. Shoes and socks come off. I watch them cram unwashed socks into boots and shoes. “Hand-up, your coats,” I say. Dirty coats get put away removing the protective sealant that contains their, what could be best called, hobo funk.

As the class develops these kids start to exhibit some impressive skills of observation, mimicry and an impressive array of knowledge crossing many disinclines. These kids are impressive, street wise, quick, direct, and bold in their opinions, they know how to take a conversation and make it theirs, make it useful to them. Their naivate is also blinding. Their lives are all about experience and resource there is little thought beyond the immediate future.

One kid says, “I like this, how much does it cost to train here?”

“More than you have, let's just work on this now.” I reply.

“Oh I got ways to get money.” He says.

“You can't do weed, or sell weed and train here, no drugs”

“Oh..” he says, and slowly re-enters the ongoing drill

That conversation ends.

“Come over here,” I say and I start calling out sizes and handing out karate shirts to the kids. Their response was not, “Cool!” as I expected, there was not one “Thank you.” However, one kid said it all, “Nice, I'll be warm tonight.” Like I said resource.

They pile out of the dojo, filthy socks, dirty necks, and coats that protect them from the cold and the rest of us from their body odor.

The world has put tremendous dents into the psyche of these kids. I wish them well, and hope that eventually they will take their skills of cleverness and smarts and brig them to bear on the programs that are available to them to get their lives back together.

As I tuned to the mirror, I saw some smears of street filth on my gi as we had rolled a bit. They left a little more than that on me. I hope I was able to leave a little something for them.

You never know what is going to take root.