Milk Money Senpai

I’ve discovered my least favorite part of Aikido: losing great aikidoka.

The shock still lingers. Being 121 miles away in eastern Connecticut from my original dojo makes it even harder to grasp the reality of it. My daily rhythm doesn't yet feel the absence of Drew Harteveld but I know that absence is massive.

Drew was my first senpai. Before some of my other senpai object, I went to dojo parties for a full year before joining the dojo. So most of my other senpai were/are drinking buddies/friends.

But Drew? Drew wasn’t a drinking buddy. Drew was something else entirely.

I came to Aikido for self-defense. After two near-violent encounters (one involving a knife) I was shaken to my core. In my first week, I took every class I could. 

Annie still accounts the night where she saw me take Juan’s Monday night class. For context this man was a competitive tango/ballroom dancer as well as a talented chiropractor… so to say he has a high body intelligence paired with high standards is an understatement. New people didn’t take his class.

But fear is a high motivator. 

Then at ASNJ they used a stripe system for new students. Your first few classes Stickles Sensei assigned you a sempai and they took care of you for that class. Back then the culture was Sempai take care of kohai. Sensei would always say, “Beginners are the life blood of the dojo.” Usually your first month Sensei would make sure you were take care of. However because I was taking so many classes he threw me to the general mat earlier. 

This is where Drew comes in. It might have been my second Saturday I can’t recall those details, but I know I was scared to just be tossed on my own on the mat. (A week of classes is nothing). Drew wearing his big fancy pants comes charging towards me with his passionate intensity that only he truly has. So an early twenty year old who recently was traumatized with violence … I can only imagine with what my face looked like. 

The man grabs my wrist and I must have locked up. Then he exclaims, “give me your milk money!”. A phrase my students now say regularly. 

Laughter. One of the biggest killers of fear. I laughed, realized I was safe and we did tainohenko. 

You’d think the story would end there. Of course not. 

The words are so hard to come out.

The word, “Nugget” is what comes to mind the most. Drew was always exploring how to pull this gold magic nugget out of everyone and everything. Its like a search for that secret sauce that even the chef doesn’t even know how to make. I can hear him say the world nugget. It just keeps coming up. 

But here's what I need you to understand about Drew:

I was his kohai. Like, scratch-off-the-mat brand-new. And over time, (real quick) I shot past him in rank, in responsibility,  and in visibility. I passed a lot of people. But Drew? He never flinched. Never felt threatened. Never made it weird. He was proud. Genuinely proud.

When I started leading classes at ASNJ (I was their children’s program director) he trusted me so deeply he put his daughter in the school. (I do think Noelle also had a hand in it) Later, when I moved to ANJ, he booked lessons with me for her again, wanting to spark her love for Aikido. She was already training at the New York Aikikai, but he felt I offered something that he thought might respark her passion for it. And when I gave him my very low rate for those lessons because I would’ve done it for free, we were friends … he looked me said, “Nope. I’m paying you more.” When we did the photo shoot at ANJ he jumped up and was my uke. Some of my favorite action shots are with him.

When he learned I opened ANLC he send me this message, “Noelle just passed a screen shot of your post. SO EXCITING!!  Please think of me as a resource as soon as it’s time to start swinging hammers, climbing ladders and slinging paint. And of course, can’t wait for your epic opening seminar. M I L K M O N E Y.” He was the first to write a review for my dojo and in that Drew-like fashion it was a “few” words. (I highly suggest reading it, it gives such insight of his mind.)

That’s senpai energy. That’s someone who sees your worth even when you’re selling yourself short. He didn’t shout it from the rooftops. He just acted on it.

Then there was this moment in January 2024. We were at a fundraising seminar at ASNJ—Hal Lehrman, Sharon Dominguez, and Steve Pimsler were teaching. I was kind of fighting with my husband at the time. Because, let’s be honest: Aikido people love Aikido with a weird, irrational passion. It's not always easy for partners to understand.

During Hal’s class, Dan (my husband) had a breakthrough. He told me, “I finally get it. I understand why you love this.” I gave Hal the credit for that moment.

But after Drew passed, Dan and I were talking. He was hearing my stories and he didn’t realize just how important Drew was to me. He brought up his “ah-ha” moment and told me the senpai he who helped him was Drew. I cried realizing how much of a senpai big brother he was. Running a dojo is damn hard, and there he was helping me like a ninja. 

And that—that—was Drew. Not flashy. Not forceful. Just … there. With the exact nudge you needed, at the exact moment you needed it. He could wield a sledgehammer, sure—but more often, he chose the gentlest tap. And it always landed.

I looked back through our messages searching for some photos. His last words to me?

"Clutch that milk money tightly, sister."

That was Drew. Fierce, hilarious, fiercely supportive.

We don’t forget people like Drew.

We build from them.

The next time you have something to give, please consider giving to our Milk Money Cause or to their GoFundMe campaign.