Dust

I helped to start a remodeling effort at the Rochester Fencing Club a few weeks ago. Over the years the fencing club had turned into something like Grandma's old knick-knack closet with a community of dust bunnies and their offspring living in a growing metropolis of dust. Yes, it was that bad. The RFC has definitely gone through a face lift in the last few weeks and we've added a few things like a cafe, reception desk, and some new furniture.

I must of been crazy or hopped up on episodes of Extreme Makeover to want to begin this type of project. At least on Extreme Makeover they have people who know how to use power tools, know how to decorate, have sponsors like Home Depot, etc. Until now, I had me, myself, and I.

My cleaning efforts have sort of sparked a revolution of sorts at the Rochester Fencing Club. A few parents are getting involved by re-upholstering the couches, donating a table for a cafe/reception area, another mother is painting quotes and logos on the wall, etc. Everyone is taking this pretty seriously and this project has turned itself into Extreme Makeover "the budget version".

The lesson in all of this is people are willing to help out if you just give them a reason and some good solid encouragement. Everyone wanted to see changes made in the club but they didn't know whom to go to or what needed to be done exactly. Someone needed to be a central force in gathering people and telling them what needed to be done. If nothing else, I am excellent at telling people what to do. Some may call it "bossy" but I call it "effective teamwork coersion".

The question is why would I take on this project?

The surface answer that I give is, I wanted to change the club into something all the members could be proud of. This is really important since we are having so many national team camps in Rochester. Not to mention, I think it's a good thing for the members to feel invested in and inspired by this small sports community.

My real answer? Sometimes the past doesn't allow us to move on with the future.

A short history lesson.

The Rochester Fencing Club, as it is called now, used to be the Rochester Fencing Centre up until Buckie (my old coach) left. Twenty-five years ago Buckie built the fencing club in Rochester, first in downtown Rochester and fifteen years ago at the current location. When I say built, I mean built with his two hands. The lockers, the cabinets, the desks, the design of the entire place is his. Quite literally his thumbprint is everywhere in that club.

Soon after I went to college Buckie left Rochester, leaving a trail of burned bridges in his path. He was the centralizing force for the program and everyone thought that the RFC would be toast in his absence. I admit I probably thought that too since I followed Buckie to NYC to train for the 2004 Games.

Now he works in NYC in the shadow of what he once created here in Rochester. At one point in 1996 he coached about ten of the top-12 women in the states and Rochester was a world-reknowned training facility. But he isn't the man I remember him to be at Rochester Fencing Centre-the driven and crazy visionary who would stop at nothing to make champions.

You have to understand that this man was like a father to me. I spent more time with him on the road and in the fencing club than I did with my parents. I don't want to go into too much detail on this forum about what kind of coach he was because I think it's too personal.

The short of it is, he was a brutal coach at times, very controlling, and almost stifling. His approval permeated every aspect of my life. His every word was taken as absolute truth because he made us into champions whether we liked it or not. I learned hard work through him but with a lot of pain in return.

At this moment it's still very strange to be fencing without him-I don't even ask him for advice anymore. The most surreal experience happened at Nationals this year when he coached one of his younger students against me. He did it so loudly that I was too distracted to fence and ended up not scoring more than one touch on this girl.

I heard he uses me as an example to his students, "Iris would never cry even when I was yelling and hitting her". Because of that there are some young girls in NYC that look up to me but I would like to tell them my secret. The secret is that I wanted to cry, but I was too angry and afraid.

With everyone's help I'm going to dust off all the corners, cover all the cracks in the walls, give everything a new coat of paint but I do realize now that he is underneath all the layers. I will never be able to erase him from the club or from my life. He was there at the best and worst moments. I will always miss him and he will always be a part of me whether I like it or not.