Post by Ken Corbett on Mar 23, 2007 11:46:19 GMT -5
Funny this should happen just when we are having a "contest" with this theme. True story.
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As I was out a-walking today, I strolled along a residential side street. The snowbanks were melting with the first warm days of spring, and children took turns climbing up and sliding down the dirty mounds of ice along the roadway.
At one corner, I approached several urchins perhaps nine years of age splashing and kicking in the puddles. I knew none of them, and crossed over to the far side of the street, hoping to have nothing to do with them.
One red-headed boy leaped from the top of the snowbank and came towards me, laughing and throwing punches in my general direction. He was wearing light-blue mittens, I remember. He couldn’t have weighed more than fifty-odd pounds, and as he came closer, he struck out at me, tossing his fists at my person and grazing my coat several times as he passed.
I shrugged whatever and kept on going, but kept an eye on the tyke. He stood five feet behind me, in a fighting stance parodying the latest cartoon ninja sensation.
As he stepped forward, I continued walking away but half-turned to look over my left shoulder. I briefly extended my hand palm-forward towards him in the universal gesture to stop.
The moment I turned back around to look ahead and took my eyes off the brat, he lunged forward and jumped, kicking out with his rubber-booted foot. It struck me a glancing blow on the right Achilles tendon, just enough to register impact.
I would never have guessed he would actually come at me. I turned and the kid lay sprawled on his back on the pavement, a bewildered look on his face.
When his eyes met mine, I barked gruffly, “You don’t go kicking people in the street. Back off!” An extra measure of meanness marked the last two words of warning.
I knew enough to pick up my pace and get out of there before some angry parent rushed out and got involved. I might not have backed away if someone my size confronted me.
I thought all these tales about older people being attacked on the street in broad daylight were old wives’ tales, to use an expression on the edge. But now I know they’re not.
If it had been a frail elderly person attacked instead of me, things could have turned out much worse. There was still ice on the street, and as we know, falling is fraught with tragedy for these folks, or anybody, for that matter.
Perhaps the victim here is my trust in children. It also demonstrates that children should not be taught just the techniques of martial arts only. A teacher must impart wisdom as well.
Ken
++++++++++++++++++++
As I was out a-walking today, I strolled along a residential side street. The snowbanks were melting with the first warm days of spring, and children took turns climbing up and sliding down the dirty mounds of ice along the roadway.
At one corner, I approached several urchins perhaps nine years of age splashing and kicking in the puddles. I knew none of them, and crossed over to the far side of the street, hoping to have nothing to do with them.
One red-headed boy leaped from the top of the snowbank and came towards me, laughing and throwing punches in my general direction. He was wearing light-blue mittens, I remember. He couldn’t have weighed more than fifty-odd pounds, and as he came closer, he struck out at me, tossing his fists at my person and grazing my coat several times as he passed.
I shrugged whatever and kept on going, but kept an eye on the tyke. He stood five feet behind me, in a fighting stance parodying the latest cartoon ninja sensation.
As he stepped forward, I continued walking away but half-turned to look over my left shoulder. I briefly extended my hand palm-forward towards him in the universal gesture to stop.
The moment I turned back around to look ahead and took my eyes off the brat, he lunged forward and jumped, kicking out with his rubber-booted foot. It struck me a glancing blow on the right Achilles tendon, just enough to register impact.
I would never have guessed he would actually come at me. I turned and the kid lay sprawled on his back on the pavement, a bewildered look on his face.
When his eyes met mine, I barked gruffly, “You don’t go kicking people in the street. Back off!” An extra measure of meanness marked the last two words of warning.
I knew enough to pick up my pace and get out of there before some angry parent rushed out and got involved. I might not have backed away if someone my size confronted me.
I thought all these tales about older people being attacked on the street in broad daylight were old wives’ tales, to use an expression on the edge. But now I know they’re not.
If it had been a frail elderly person attacked instead of me, things could have turned out much worse. There was still ice on the street, and as we know, falling is fraught with tragedy for these folks, or anybody, for that matter.
Perhaps the victim here is my trust in children. It also demonstrates that children should not be taught just the techniques of martial arts only. A teacher must impart wisdom as well.
Ken
