It’s May 4th.
The mats are quiet again.
Just yesterday, they were filled—alive with movement, laughter, sweat, and something deeper… something harder to put into words. The Remy Presas Memorial Training Camp has come to a close. I had the honor of holding the first one… and now, the responsibility of closing the final chapter of this tradition.
And it needed to end this way.
The first camp was about bringing people back together—reconnecting threads that had been scattered over time. This one… the 25th anniversary of Professor’s passing… was about something more. It was about letting go of mourning and choosing, fully and intentionally, to celebrate his life by continuing what he started.
No more looking backward in grief.
Only forward—with purpose.
This year, people came from everywhere. Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Ohio, New York, Colorado, Alabama, Michigan, Florida… and our Canadian family crossed the border strong—from Sudbury, Toronto, and London, Ontario. That kind of support never gets taken for granted.
But what hit me the hardest… what stayed with me… was this:
Twelve people in that room had met Professor Presas. Trained with him. Been certified by him.
Twelve living connections to the source.
That’s not just attendance—that’s legacy. That’s history breathing in real time. To have that many individuals, all shaped by Professor’s presence, standing together to honor him… that meant something. That matters.
The training itself reflected that spirit.
I had the privilege of sharing alongside Master Rich Parsons; Punong Guros Chad Dulin, Tye Botting, and Craig Mason; Tuhon Brock; and Masters Mike and May Williams. Each brought their own perspective—pieces of Professor’s teachings, evolved through time, yet still rooted in the same foundation.
That’s how this art lives.
Through growth… not stagnation.
Friday and Saturday brought a two-part test. And I couldn’t be prouder. Three brand-new black belts stepped forward into the next phase of their journey. Three others rose to higher degrees. And many more took steps along the path, earning color belts as they work toward their own future.
That’s the real work.
That’s the rebuilding.
Because let’s be honest—this was never just about training.
It was about connection.
Our martial family isn’t just growing—it’s tightening. The bonds are getting stronger. We shared more than techniques—we shared meals, stories, and time. Uncle Pudgie’s pizza. A group dinner at Applebee’s. The essential Buffalo experience at Duff’s for wings.
And then there were the little moments…
Watching Floridians try bison chip dip for the first time—and immediately fall in love with it. Seeing people experience mead over at Queen City Meadery—yes, mead, honey wine, not a typo—and realizing that even outside the training floor, we’re still creating memories together.
That’s what this is about.
Not just an art.
A community.
So now the question becomes…
What’s next?
What have I been doing all these years?
The answer hasn’t changed.
Continue.
Keep spreading the art. Keep rebuilding. Keep creating the next generation. Because after Professor passed, we didn’t just lose a man—we lost 80–90% of the community.
And that’s something we are still rebuilding from.
But we are rebuilding.
And we’re not done.
There are events throughout the year, but the next major step is already on the horizon:
April 30th through May 2nd, 2027 — the 70th Anniversary of Modern Arnis Camp.
That one… is going to mean something special.
I’ll have more to say about it soon.
But for now?
A little rest.
A moment to breathe.
And then… back to work. Because classes are tonight.
To everyone who came, trained, tested, laughed, and shared this weekend—
Thank you.
Stay safe. Stay sane.
And keep the art alive.
Respectfully,
Datu Tim Hartman
Modern Arnis Tribal Chief
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