For Craig

For Craig

There are times that you just shake your head and wonder what its all about. I came home from the East Coast Custom Knife Show in NYC all pumped up only to find a disturbing voice mail awaiting me. A martial arts friend left a brief message saying that a young man named Craig Eden had died that day in an auto accident.

Craig was a very old soul in a too young body. He was used hard and life had not been easy or kind to him. Craig was the first to admit that he had been in trouble all too often. Maybe he was just wild, reckless, spirited or ignored too much when he was a child. Probably a little of all of the above. He came to me wanting to learn Japanese swordsmanship. I don’t even remember how he found out about me, not that it really matters. Several people said I should not accept him as a student. He was "trouble." Indeed, trouble seemed to plague Craig’s days but in my class he was no trouble. We were like the old dog and the new pup, Bear Claw and Jeremiah Johnson in the movie by the same name.

Bear Claw Chris Lapp: You've come far pilgrim. Jeremiah Johnson: Feels like far. Bear Claw Chris Lapp: Were it worth the trouble? Jeremiah Johnson: Ahh, What trouble?

That’s how it was with Craig and I, "what trouble?" One night at the beginning of class I asked Craig, "What would you like to do tonight?" His reply, "Whatever you want me to do." Never have I had a student answer that way in all the years I have taught. In that one short exchange I looked into the soul of a true warrior. Craig was also an artist and one of his drawings of a samurai is hanging in our dojo. His talents included making mounts and a saya for his own katana using a forged blade he bought. He was always tinkering with it, improving the wrapping or reshaping the tsuka.

There came a point where Craig was in some ways better and faster than me. As any teacher knows that is rewarding and frustrating at the same time. One night I picked up a wooden wakizashi and took a stance. Craig held his bokuto (wooden katana) in the jodan or overhead posture. I told him to cut straight down on my head. He hesitated, knowing how fast he was. I told him again, "CUT." He did. I slipped his cut and brought my wakizashi to rest right alongside his head. He never flinched or faltered in his cut but I knew I would never be able to beat him twice with that technique. Sometimes you only get one chance at life or death.

Life is seldom fair. Sometimes we get what we deserve and other times it seems disproportionately good or bad. This one time, this one night, fate dealt Craig an unfair hand. but he would not complain. He always accepted life as it came, the bitter and the sweet. Craig I wish you well whatever path you are on, and until we can train together again, keep practicing.