The empty hand

Perhaps one of the greatest stories of personal angst and the triumph over one's own demons can be found in the masterpiece of american cinema titled The Karate Kid. I have - with no shame - seen this film more times than I could dream of calculating. There is no doubt that I owe much of who I am today to the mystic wisdom of the tiny man known as Miyagi. Imagine my joy when uncovering this treasure from the secret cavern of read-along. It is part one of the story which has been given the name "The Empty Hand". Prepare to be dazzled as a couple of possibly australian kids and a handful of presumed inebriated adults awkwardly interpret the first half of this great tale through the lost art of read-along story telling.

It started with a bean

It started with young boy and his dream to take Karate... not from the Y, but from a good school. That boy was Daniel LaRusso, his school was a small Okinawan named Miyagi and it is the greatest music sharing club ever known. My brother Jeremy and I--along with every other 2o-something/ 30-something man--have often found common ground in recalling the tales of these and other underdog characters from the films of our childhood. When off-hand phrases such as "Don't know, first time," and "Look at the chicken, he's wild!" are spoken among those who know of their original context, a bond is shared between the parties which unfamiliar bystanders simply cannot understand.

The songs of these films are an important piece of this tapestry of nostalgia. Though often horribly trite, these songs are enjoyed endlessly by those who recall their visual counterparts from these moments in cinematic mediocrity. They have become a shared piece of history among those who have found themselves on the edge of their seat and fighting back tears as they root for Daniel LaRusso, Rocky Balboa and Scott Howard for the thirty-second time as if it were the first. Here's to the underdog!

Many of these songs have spawned a music sharing club affectionately referred to as "If Awesome Were a Compact Disc" among my Starbucks brethren. We have found a commonality beyond the coffee bean which employs us in the music of our past. It has come to serve as a shared thread linking us to one anothers' histories. And to think, it all started with a bean. The coffee bean, you may ponder? Perhaps. Or was it rather Joe 'Bean' Esposito?