A Personal History

I started Aikido in 1989 at the University of Connecticut Aikido club. At the time, I was studying Tang Soo Do in New London near my family's home. That dojo was run by an excellent teacher named David Scro, who had gone to Korea and won the International Sparring competition three years running. I loved the school and its spirit. A book called "The Way of the Peaceful Warrior" had led me to the martial arts, and I had spent three months looking at all the martial arts schools listed in the phone book. I had narrowed my search down to three, then two (Tang Soo Do and Kung fu), and finally settled on Tang Soo Do because of the spirit of the school and its instructors.

When I returned to College in 1989, I was dismayed with the available martial arts instruction. There was a great Karate club at the school led by an excellent teacher, but I found that my former training in a Korean style did not lend itself to Japanese Karate. Then a friend, who I had been training with since the start of school, suggested that I might try Aikido. He said that it would not interfere with the style that I had been learning because it was a totally different kind of martial art. I took his advice and went to see what it was all about. Then I met Ron Growney.

Ron Growney was the University of Connecticut Aikido club's Sensei. He had studied Aikido at a time when it was first developing in the United States. He was also the soon-to-be Department Chairman of Psychology at UCONN. His approach to martial arts was different than I had ever experienced. He was very kind and generous, but at the same time, a warrior embued with bushido spirit.  There was an almost intangible force that enveloped the dojo. There was something about being there with him that made you want to come again. And so I did. And I kept coming.

Two years later, a guy named Patrick Miller came to the dojo. Pat was a shodan, and had gotten his rank in Japan while on a student exchange program. He told me about practicing in Japan and the idea worked its way into the back of my head. Some months later, someone mentioned a job opportunity in Japan working with Monbusho (the Ministry of Education). And I found myself applying for the job. I had no idea what my chances were of getting hired, but as graduation in May of 1991 approached, I found myself saying "if I am accepted, I will go". Sometime it the spring I got the letter. I was off to Japan.

Needless to say, Aikido was tops on my list. That was why I was there. Monbusho sent me to a little island in Nagasaki prefecture called Iki. Rich with tradition, Iki was a beautiful place, but I was soon to find out what the word "inaka" meant ("inaka" means "rural countryside" in Japanese). I spent several months on Iki chasing down an Aikido dojo in a town on the opposite end of the island. There was a dojo, and a sign and a phone number. I did not have  a car at the time, so I asked co-workers if I could get a lift there, and also asked if someone would call there to ask about practice times. It was all to naught, as apparently the sensei there had been recently arrested on drug charges! I figured my luck had run out. Here I was in Japan, and I couldn't even find an active Aikido dojo. I started taking Kendo, and met some great people there. But I still kept up hope that I would find Aikido somewhere, and soon.

At about this time, someone told me about a big city named Fukuoka. I had never heard of it, having come from the US via Tokyo then Nagasaki. But eventually, I made it into Fukuoka and to a nearby book store. There I found a copy of the Aiki News Encyclopedia of Aikido, and flipped it open to the dojo listing for Fukuoka, Japan. I copied down the name of the dojo and went to catch a taxi. The driver finally found the place after a bit of searching. I went inside the small building, and soon found myself in a class.

For the first time since I came to Japan, I felt at home. All of a sudden, I knew what people were saying. Terms like "iriminage" and "shomenuchi ikkyo" were already a part of my vocabulary! I still remember that first practice session. It was like a dream. I really flet like I had found my long lost family.

From that start, I was hooked. Every Friday, I would rush out of work in order to catch the jetfoil to Fukuoka. The jetfoil got there in an hour, but I rarely made practice on time. But I would still go and do some "ato geiko" or after-class practice. I would stay for the weekend, getting in three practices on Saturday, then two more Sunday morning. By Sunday afternoon, I was a dead man. Everything ached. But I always went home, by slow boat (over 2 hours), with a smile on my face. A year later, I asked to be transferred to Nagasaki city. I figured I could find a big dojo there and be able to practice during the week. After moving there, I was only able to find a small dojo that had practice a few times a week. So I found myself taking a two hour bus ride every Friday bound for Fukuoka. After a year of that, I decided I should move to Fukuoka. I quit my job in Nagasaki (which somewhat shocked my co-workers) and moved to Fukuoka. I found a small apartment just around the corner from the dojo. For the next three years, Aikido was my life. In the time that I was there, I  learned to speak passable Japanese, and progressed to the rank of Nidan. It was a wonderful journey.

In May of 1996, I returned to Connecticut and my old dojo at UCONN. It was great to be back, and I found myself in the role of sempai, helping to spread the teachings of Osensei and share what I had learned. Soon after I moved to Tallahassee Florida, and the journey continued.