Memories of a Kung Fu Older Brother

I attended a memorial service today in Madison for my friend Francisco, who passed on to the land of the Great Spirit about a week ago.  Francisco was a true friend, and his commitment to helping those in need served as an example, and as a point of motivation to me.  I want to be more like him as I age.  He lived long enough to accomplish much, but not long enough to enjoy his retirement and the leisure that it would have provided.

Francisco was fascinated by the martial art of Hsing I, and was a boxing coach and corner man to me for a kung fu tournament fight in which I took part recently.  He was there with me, every night for two or three hours helping me and my kung fu brothers with training.  He did this out of pure love, and he loved the art.  He loved seeing us fight and develop our strengths.  He constantly encouraged us, and was there, holding the punching bags, holding the timer while we sparred, sharing his thoughts on what he saw.  Thanks for that brother.  Thanks for caring so much about my journey.

I remember meeting Francisco about 7 years ago at kung fu class, and he told me he was an old student of my teacher’s, and that he wanted to continue to get in to shape.  He was like a bear when he boxed, and it was very difficult to move him around.  I noticed over the past two years that his wind was not very good, and that is the only memory I have of him really aging.  He was very grounded and relaxed.  He could throw me around, and worked with me to show me how to do the same back to him.  He loved learning and showing what he had learned.  He was patient, and a patient listener.

I remember going every Saturday to Mother Fool’s Coffee House for coffee.  Francisco would sometimes bring tamales and his incredible salsa.  I remember asking him for his recipe.  I remember this clearly–two habanero peppers, two jalapeno peppers, two tomatoes, and some salt and garlic.  I remember the delicious burn, and how I couldn’t taste anything for the next hour after eating this.  It was great.  More recently, he brought breads that he made.  He joked about how he made the Sara Lee breads from scratch.  Francisco was always there, buying us all coffee, and talking for hours about life.  I noticed many tonight spoke about their experience working to solve the world’s problems with Francisco.  He knew they could be solved, and had solved some of the problems he had seen with migrant workers, and immigrants to this country.  I didn’t realize before tonight the true depth of the work that he did, and how many lives he touched.  We got a little closer to solving the problems with his help.

Francisco shared with me his love as a child for a ritual he attended that he always remembered.  I don’t remember the town.  He remembered that there were dancers flying through the air on wires.  He and I talked for hours about my travels to Mexico, and I knew of his love for his homeland.  He shared with me the history of the Lady of Guadalupe, and I appreciated his deep knowledge.  He was with me as a friend, and we enjoyed our time together, talking for hours.

I wish to express my condolences for Francisco’s family, and especially to his son, who I met for the first time tonight.  He had never spoken of a son, and I had always thought he was childless.  I’m sad that they never had much time together, and didn’t get to know one another as adults.

Hey there Francisco, know that we’re here….we’re okay…and I’m carrying forward the tradition…I’m looking out for my friends…I’m there for them and will help them…Remember the Eagle/Bear form brother?  I’ll pass that on and always remember you when I work at kung fu….Thanks for all your time, your laughs, your brotherhood, your offering of your life for us.  I’ll always remember you.