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The day after Kokin Gumi played their final concert in Hida Furakawa a group of us joined Masa to visit his hometown village, Kawai. This picture and the one below were taken near an old shack neighboring some graves beside the rice fields a few hundred yards from Masa's family home. Masa mentioned that he often went there to practice. Rosemary Kidd and I were there, jamming as best we could with Masa. It was a wonderful day, nursing hangovers with good friends. - Ed Heckerman

Looking at this photo reminds me of Masa's hands. I've long been fascinated by the way some people use their hands. Not the clumsy, fumble-fingered folks (among whom I so often find myself), but the really nimble, creative people for whom the use of their hands is their primary means of creating their life. I sat next to Masa for years, watching his fingers on his flute. Often it was the only way to figure out what he was doing (like when he would say, "I'll play and then you repeat what I played"). There was a grace in the way Masa used his hands that was a joy to watch. Mary Lu Brandwein once observed that when Masa played the shakuhachi, each note he played got his full attention, even the grace notes. The same was true of the way Masa moved his hands. Whether playing his shakuhachi or the shamisen, picking up a pencil, handing you a cup of tea, or accepting payment for the lessons, there was a reverence for what he was doing that Masa observed with his hands, and no gesture was too small to deserve that attention. - Bruce Jones