A beautiful History of Kendo taken from Ozawa, Hiroshi of his book: "Sound of bamboo: Born in a house of kendoist" I. Shimazu Shobo, 1999. Too edited in Appendix 2 of The Essence of Training (Keiko) in Japanese Culture 

* I hope that my translate througth japanese-spanish-english is ok and you can read its interesting content. 🙇 オルちゃん

"Train as a pupil student" 

It was in April 1956 that Mr. N appeared at our house for the first time. He was still wearing his high school uniform when he became a member of our family as my father's pupil student. He started living in a small room in the old back of the house with a thatched roof, which was close to the dojo.

 Since my father got up early, he couldn't stay asleep. After getting up at six in the morning, he had to make my bed and fix the house. This task became that of Mr. N since that day. Mr. N wrapped a towel around his head, walked around the house with a rag and broom, and quickly cleaned the hallway, columns, and paper panel frames. After finishing cleaning, he would go to the kitchen where my father was cooking in the oven, so that I could have a chat with him while the food was being prepared. 

He thus he used to employ his rest. Throughout the day, Mr. N followed my father, who was always on the go. He used to bike to the station to go to work in Tokyo. Mr. N took time out of his busy daily schedule to get the bike out, clean it, and check the tires every day. Although they told me to clean it and check the tires, Mr. N was doing the work before I could. After seeing my father leaving, Mr. N began to work with my mother. After clearing the table, they went to the garden to plant vegetable seeds and tubers and weed. As the garden was quite large, they repeated the same operation in the afternoon. After finishing one section, they went to the next. I don't even remember how hard it was for them to finish the entire garden. When they did, the first section was weedy again. From spring to late summer, they repeated the cleaning of the weeds every day. In the late afternoon, after Mr. N had finished his yard work, he would ride his bike to go to town to shop. I would ride in the back and go shopping with him. 

The cobblestone road into town made for a bumpy ride at times. I was holding on tight to Mr. N's back. Once, we were fooling around on the way back from town. Mr. N let go of the handlebar, I threw in a basket of tofu, which of course was well packaged. When we arrive at home and my mother came across the incident, made us sit across from her and scolded us for playing with food Consequently, we had to eat the tofu. 

I still remember it well. Mr. N told me that he had no idea what training as a student pupil was and that he wondered if he would have to practice all day. Actually, training started when my father came home, after seven, and after dinner. One hour was everything they had to practice. There were at most ten students and most of the time only three or four. I remember that kirikaeshi (attacking practice) was very hard. Although the practice time was only one hour, we had to attack countless times because the number of students was not very large. After five minutes of this practice, it becomes exhausting. An attacker repeats a round until time runs out. It was as repetitive as removing weeds from the garden. Although the practice method never changed, we occasionally had guests from another dojo as an exchange. All the students opened their eyes wide and watched the practice. My father was small in build, but a large man could not easily knock him down. An older student told me that he glued his eyes to his foot movements, posture and attacks. Some students only looked below their knees. Since he was just a beginner then, he played outside all day, and when practice started, at 8 o'clock at night, he was sleepy and tired. Mr. N. used to carry me to the dojo. Sometimes I fell asleep just sitting on the floor. When he did, a touch of my father's shinai woke me up. 

When we didn't have practice in the afternoon, he used to ask her to play catch after he finished yard work. Thanks to him, I became a good baseball player. We also bathed together and played in his room before going to bed. I remember that he sometimes gave me candy. When I was young, he was sickly and I had a cold quite often. When he made me sick, he would put me on the back of his bike and take me to the hospital, to the city, because my mother couldn't ride a bike. On early Sunday mornings my busy father used to ask Mr. N to help him clean the garden. I followed my father into the garden to talk kendo while they worked together. Sometimes I couldn't understand what they were talking about. In the 1950s we had to cook rice in the oven. We also had to carry buckets of water to the bathroom many times, carry firewood and feed the fire to heat the bath. It was a primitive method if we consider how we do it now, but I have fond memories of then. The reason I never questioned why I did those jobs was because I was content with my simple life. 

Mr. N stayed with us for only one year and worked very hard in the garden. Since he took special care of me, I keep in closer contact with him than the rest of the family. Thirty-eight years after Mr. N, became my father's pupil pupil, he received the highest degree of kendo (Hanshi), in May 1994. It is a pity that my father is not here today to see him. Mr. N, of whom I have spoken, is Mr. Haruo Nozawa, 範士八段　野澤治雄先生

Video: 

第45回埼玉県剣道大会　

範士八段戦　

野澤治雄先生- 加藤浩二先生

Photo: 

小澤　丘

剣道範士九段

明治33年（1900）10月―平成3年（1991）11月　享年91歳