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A time forgotten, a time to remember, a blow that dropped the man to the ground
In reminiscing, the older times have past, and new generations have arrived. It is good to see the martial art flourish here in the US. Many styles and manner, and how they are presented. As long as I remember, in the early sixties, technology of the Internet was not in the hand of the public. Also a quieter time, and people had the intent more of learning and having fun.
Remembering when the PKA was still in it's infancy, well known icons that have grown into household names. Bill Wallace and Chuck Norris to name a few, many others, too many to name. I could fill a whole book. I remember Mike Stone, really great guy, he had a Karate studio in Huntington Beach, California. Often one wonders where these Champions have gone, and with every new decade new championsemerge.
In February of 2001 I visited Guro Dan Inosanto, in Los Angeles, always as an older brother to me, and he really looked great as always. (This guy never runs out of energy, seems that way). Met a couple of old friend there also still training, does something to a person after all these years seeing Guro Dan and the old friends, like the head Instructor of the Dog Brothers, Marc "Crafty Dog" Denny, and Mr. Daniel Sullivan. Watching the two practice was sure a great pleasure. You know I really see their brotherly love for their teacher Guro Dan. 
Also a time in my life around when I was a young teenager, we left the island of Java on September 8, 1954, that was three weeks after the Indonesian Independence day, on August 17, 1954. I can still remember our Uncle, Vondel de Vries saying Goodbye to us, standing on the Harbor ship-boarding site. My Mom and Pap, Willem and me, boy! Our lives turned upside down, we had to start our lives over again in Holland. From Surabaya to Jakarta, and from there the harbor Tandjung Priok, then we left our land of our birth on the Italian liner "Suriento".
It was a neat trip really, going through the Suez Canal, sizzling hot desert on through the Mediterranean and the final stop for the liner in the city of "Genoa". From there a long train ride to Den Bos in Brabant, Nederland. We finally ended up in a small village of "Leersum" in the province of Utrecht, and of course, it did not take too long to find friends, Dutch Indo as well as Dutch.
On my birthday of that year, I thought I was a goner when I was riding my bike on the left side of the street left, that I was accustomed to while on Java, that still had the adopted left over structure from the English when they were in power in Indonesia. Then I remembered, here in Holland they drive on the right, and just as I was crossing the street, out of nowhere from the blindside of the hill I got hit by a small car. I was lucky that day. Certainly, otherwise I may never had seen the US
A Little Brother's Memory
About two weeks after my birthday, and the ill-fated accident, I was playing soccer with the big boys, I was thirteen at that time and Willem was eighteen.
Now during the soccer play, it got a bit rougher, and the forward made it a point to nail me instead of the ball. The players were all in their middle twenties, and really were not too pleased a thirteen-year-old youngster was playing and keeping up with these guys. Now by the second half, this forward hit me so hard (instead of the ball) that I was in La-la land. O well that is what you get playing inter-league soccer I guess. I was out of circulation and limping two to three weeks from that incident.
When I got my wind back and came to the land of the living, this fine forward said to me, "Well, you want some more soccer lessons?" I replied, I would ask my older brother what he thinks, and he replied, "Well, then I will teach you both how not to be cowards."
Well, on that Sunday, the big league was playing, with the stands full, Willem and I arrived about in the middle of the first half. Willem ask me which one he was, and I pointed him out. You know to my own surprise, Willem jumped over the first short fence, and he marched right out on to the field. I can still hear Willem say, "Here is the Coward you are wanting to teach a lesson". You know when they came close to each other; the Forward took several swings at Willem. Willem just bobbed and waved in to his range.
As a wild animal stocking a prey, Willem was 125Lbs, the forward outweighing Willem by at least fifty pounds. I guess, the next thing I saw, Willem connecting with a solid right to the neck area (His well known Thunder Punch). The man dropped, and was out cold with a shattered jaw. Every one watching in the stands and on the soccer fields were stunned. Willem calmly walked off the field and we went home. He was quiet that evening saying nothing. Outwardly, he may not always speak, but for sure the inward eye of the Tiger always existed.
You know during the time in Pradjekan, I may not have observed Willem everyday of our lives, but know that he could only have learned the active attack by learning from someone that shared. One thing for sure, the quiet one always has to strive to learn and advance from within, and needed no one to tell Willem on how to learn martial arts.
Although I feel very strong he still owes me BIG for all the goodies, in exchange for the promised movies. (Specially the one; "The Battle On Mount Blanc") I guess, never take life too serious, until it counts, to aid someone close to you. I have never forgotten that, and was always grateful I had a brother that took care of his younger brother in their youth. Later we found out the man had to have his jaw wired back together. Later I went to see this guy, and we never saw any strife on the soccer field again.
Not too long after that we celebrated our Dad's birthday, he was fifty-three years young at that time, and the weeks that followed we moved to Amsterdam and lived there till we moved to Wormer, in the district of Wormerveer. "The time that was and from a time not forgotten."
From all the brothers, I grew up with Willem, even right after the uprising by the Indonesian forces after WWII ended. It was our Mom, Willem and me. Regardless how brothers are and act in their adulthood, memories are imbedded of a time;
"A time long ago. - A time that was. - A time never forgotten"
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