Along our paths in this world, I’m afraid we often forget kindnesses shown to us. For whatever reason, we do not see these acts of generosity, compassion, and gentleness until they have long past, and the person who did all these things is no longer there.
I was 20 when I moved from my hometown to Columbus, OH. By big city standardss- well, it isn’t. But to me, it was just right and I relished the opportunities being in a large community offered.
Onesuch opportunity I immediately began pursuing was the continuation of my martial art education. I knew it would have to be a different style than what I’d originally done, but I was open to change. And what a change it ended up being.
By some random occurrence, my girlfriend at the time and I ended up at the Rick Moore Academy, which taught Matsubayashi-ryu, also known as Shorin-ryu. Matsubayashi-ryu is an Okinawan style of karate- practically a 180 degree turn from my kung-fu experience. For those of you wondering exactly what that means, this is the easiest way I can think of to explain: with kung-fu, things are very circular and done with a lot of open-handed technique. With Shorin-ryu, there is more linear movement and a lot of closed fist maneuvers. Very different ways to arrive at the same conclusion, in other words.
My initial experience left me cold and quite angry, vowing to not return to this dojo. (But that’s another story for later. ) However, my girlfriend Tammy convinced me there was good in that school, and to give it another shot. I did, and spent the next few years in it and satellite schools, meeting some extraordinary people.
One of those people was Master AJ Henshaw.
Without getting too deeply into the initial weirdness that accompanied my attending classes, he was one of the senior members of the school who was immediately friendly to me. We discussecd my experience with Chinese styles, what did I like about karate, and whatnot. Master AJ was in his mid-fifties when I met him over a decade ago; but even then, he still functioned quite well despite diabetes complications and years of martial arts and military work miles on his body.
I can recall visiting his home a few times, and he was quite gracious and fun. Conversation always revolved around martial arts, and how it had affected our lives. AJ had lived a rich life, spending over twenty years in the US Air Force, traveling everywhere, and retiring with the rank of Master Sergeant. He liked me in part, I think, because my Dad was a USAF vet and I had enlisted, too. He was the sort of man who was patriotic without being abrasive about it. Despite undoubtedly having been discriminated against as a black man, he always espoused the belief that if you worked hard and stayed true to yourself, you’d accomplish your goals.
In the dojo, he also exhibited that same understated approach. Some people, when they teach, come across like drill instructors and tyrants. They yell and bluster and make a huge show of themselves. AJ was not like that; he had a deep, bass voice that he rarely raised in anger or frustration. He liked to dispense random bits of technique off the cuff, and he just did it so effortlessly. AJ was never encumbered mentally by his rank- he never took that red belt of a 6th dan (degree of blackbelt) too seriously. When I began to move up in rank, which happened quickly, I aspired to be like him when I taught: fair, even-tempered, using humor when appropriate, and above all worthy of my students’ respect.
Now that I think about it, I think gentleness was AJ’s lasting lesson to me. He always, always knew how to approach situations with the right touch, and it always struck me as gentle. Not in a weak or uncertain way, but in the way which water can flow; carefully sculpting and shaping an outcome without obliterating everything in its path.
Today, these things become AJ’s legacy to me. I received and email last week that he was gravely ill. There had been a planned event at the Rick Moore Academy today to honor him, but he passed away sometime yesterday. I’m told he will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery; a quite fitting honor to a very honorable man.
In a pursuit that is not always friendly to women, and can be a tough place to succeed, AJ was a positive force. He always encouraged me and the other women in the school to strive. And he did it with a great, big, warm smile that said “I’m happy to be alive, to be doing this, and to know my fellow humans.”
Thank you, AJ. I don’t think I adequately thanked you when I was your protege and student, but I’ve always carried your lessons -and those small kindnesses- with me. I always will.
Domo arrigato, Sensei. (rei)
