Somehow it always did.
In those days Sensei's English was not very good. It got very slowly better in the subsequent ten years, but there has often been a need for someone to interpret from English on his behalf. I have done it myself on occasion and it can be a frustrating undertaking.
There is an anecdote about Sensei going to a drive-in in Florida shortly after he arrived in the states. He ordered coffee (Japanese: "KOE-HEE") and repeated it two or three times until the waitress understood.
"Oh, Coffee..." she said.
"So da," (Japanese. Literally: "That's right") said Sensei.
"Soda?" said the waitress.
"No. KOE-HEE."
"Coffee."
"So da."
"Soda???"
"No. KOE-HEE!"
Some have suspected that this exchange was not entirely innocent.
Sensei can be obscure for many reasons: because he lacks the exact English; because what he is trying to communicate is intrinsically hard to comprehend; or because he is a good teacher and wants you to think for yourself. But sometimes I think he is just having some fun at our expense.
For all of this, you must understand that, in the early seventies, Sensei was an acknowledged, world-class athlete in Aikido. To this day he remains a world-class practitioner, a world-class coach, and a world-class teacher. I didn't know this when we met, and I hadn't the background to see it by myself. Still, I could see that there was something in his Aikido that could be important for me, and that, whatever it was, I could learn it from him. As my letter home hints, the story of my involvement in Aikido is inseparable from the story of my building a life in Washington.
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