Dad was born nearly a century ago.
It’s amazing when you think of it that way.
February 25, 1919 in Seattle, WA to be exact. Over 99 years ago.
The fifth of seven siblings born to
Hisakichi and Kono Kanemoto, both legal immigrants from Hiroshima.
…but Dad passed away quietly at 99 years of age on Good Friday, March 30, 2018 in Los Angeles, CA – at the same facility where his older sister, my Aunt Shizue, passed away just a few years earlier at 95.
Just an eulogy in photographs of Dad:
Dad on left, somewhere in Seattle with his father Hisakichi and older sister Shizue. Circa 1920.
Circa1921, King and Maynard Streets, Seattle, WA
Dad at right with Grandpa Hisakichi and Aunt Shiz near their barbershop on King and Maynard, Seattle, WA. Circa 1922.
Dad at far right. Grandfather holding Suetaro with Shiz holding a precious doll. Circa 1923, Seattle, WA.
Dad second from left holding what appears to be a rice ball in front of their Seattle barbershop. Far left is Suetaro; to his right is Aunt Shiz. Circa 1924.
From left clockwise: Grandmother Kono, Suetaro climbing on chair, Dad with cap, Shiz, Mrs. Fujii and her son (?) and the youngest Kanemoto, baby Mieko who would pass away at 15 years of age in Hiroshima. Circa 1925, corner of Maynard and King Streets, Seattle, WA.
My guess is circa 1925; the youngest sister Mieko appears to be about two years old. Dad on left, Uncle Suetaro is the boy in the center ( KIA as a sergeant of the Japanese Imperial Army on Leyte October 1944). By 1927, all but the oldest boy (Uncle Yutaka seated on the left) would be living in Hiroshima. Only two would return to the United States before the outbreak of war. Of those left in Japan, only my Grandma will be alive by war’s end. This was taken in Seattle. The finish was heavily soiled by oils left by those who handled it decades earlier and could not be smoothly removed.
This is the first and oldest known photograph taken of my father’s Hiroshima home, still owned today by the Kanemoto family, circa 1928. Dad is the third from the left. The photo includes all of my dad’s siblings except for his oldest brother who had returned to Seattle and another brother who died at two years of age in Seattle. The house was damaged by the atomic blast.
Dad on right next to his favorite brother, Suetaro. It is a tiny picture, about the size of a quarter, and it fell out from behind a larger picture glued in place in Granmother Kono’s photo album. Taken in front of family home in Hiroshima. My guess is 1928.
Dad is second from left, fourth row back in a lighter uniform, in a class photo at his Hiroshima high school, Nichu. It was totally destroyed by the atomic bomb. Sadly, the odds are tremendous all of his classmates were killed or wounded in the war as was his brother. Up to a few years ago, he still remembered perhaps six of his classmates pictured. Dad was the last to pass away. Likely 1936.
I think of all the pictures of Dad spanning 99 years, this is the happiest I’ve seen him (right), posing at his Hiroshima home with his two younger siblings. Both siblings would pass away before the end of WWII. Circa 1936 is a guess.
Dad on his high school track team. He was a track star! Dad is in first row center, in white cap.
A page out of his Hiroshima high school’s yearbook: Dad in his senior high school portrait, bottom right. As verified by his predecessor high school administrative staff, he was the last one still living as of three years ago. He would return to Seattle after this. 1937.
Dad showing off his pride in his varsity sweater in front of his brother Yutaka’s home on Fir St. in Seattle. Likely taken between 1937 and Pearl Harbor.
Dad (standing) with his sister-in-law and my Aunt Haru and his oldest brother Yutaka holding his first son Seiichi Robert. Robert would die at six years of age at the Minidoka prison camp in 1944. All would be imprisoned three years later by President FDR, a Democrat. Taken in Seattle 1938.
Dad’s draft card that classified him as an Enemy Alien (4c). Ironically, he had to carry it around in his wallet at all times while imprisoned at the Tule Lake and Minidoka prison camps – therefore the crease. 1943.
Dad preparing to ship out to Japan with the rest of his US 8th Army Military Intelligence Service buddies. He was one of the first graduates of the now US Army’s . Presidio of Monterey, November 1947. Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center
Dad somewhere in Occupied Japan, March 1948.
Dad on his fateful day. Poor guy. I never heard him talk back to mom… ever. Tokyo February 1951.
When Dad (at right) took mom to meet his Hiroshima relatives – including my Grandma (circa 1951). I can sense the tension between aristocrat Mom and coubtry woman Grandma Kono! LOL His mom would pass away in 1954, his oldest sister Michie (center) in 1963. All were survivors of the atomic bomb.
Likely taken soon after their wedding in 1951. Dad, mom, Aunt Eiko, Grandma and Grandpa. Notice the heavy metal 16mm Bell & Howell movie projector. I remember using it in Los Angeles as a kid. Tokyo.
Dad of left with mom and Grandpa. I’m the kid. May 1956 – Tamagawa Park, Tokyo.
Dad with mom and me. Dad will decide to leave for America for good the next year. April 7, 1957 – Enoshima Beach, Tokyo
Dad watching over me trying to ride my first bike, a Sears Outlet J.C. Higgins. His beat up 1955 Ford Victoria Custom’s fender can be seen at left. Taken at home on Oakford Drive in East Los Angeles. Circa 1962
Dad in yellow sweater with some of mom’s Nisei friends. My guess is circa 1969. My guess also is that they have all passed away. East Los Angeles.
Dad still wearing that yellow sweater! His first new car (now eight years old in the picture) – a 1963 Mercury Meteor Custom – behind us at LAX, picking up Aunt Eiko and Uncle Paul (also a US 8th Army MIS veteran) who flew in from Tokyo. May 1971.
Dad with his older brother Yutaka and oldeer sister Shizue. Best guess is 1985, location unknown.
Dad (R) returned to Hiroshima for a vacation in 1997; Masako is in the center. This was taken at his family home. Notice the stepping stone; it is the same one Masako stood next to in a picture taken in 1948. Sadly, this would be his last time in his beloved Hiroshima.
Dad actually “died” on his birthday in 2010 when he slumped over just before eating lunch. My oldest daughter Robyn (back to camera) saved the day by jumping in then shaking him until his heart started beating again. What was funny was after starting to breathe again after about a minute, he had no idea anything happened. Paramedics tend to him. Irvine, 2010.
Dad in 2012 deciphering the names written on a captured Japanese battle flag from WWII. Some of the people who came across my WWII blogs contacted me about such souvenirs their grandfather’s brought back from the Pacific; they were hopeful Dad would be able to read the key names and village from where the deceased Japanese soldier came from in their attempts to return the flags. I thought it good for him, just to keep his mind active. Truthfully, there aren’t many left who can read these old characters. Not even my mom or aunt could read them. Dad reads them like he was 18 years old.
This will be the last time Dad and his older sister Aunt Shizue would see each other. She would pass away quietly a short time later at the age of 95. Dad would pass away at the same facility.
A cell phone portrait of Dad several years ago at his assisted living facility. After eating, the dining room servers would tell me Dad would sometimes come back a short time later, sit down, and begin to order breakfast again. The server would say, “Koso, you just ate!” and he would say, “”Oh, yeah? Pumpkin head.”
Dad in center at my oldest daughter’s wedding, January 2013. Photo courtesy of Toyo Miyatake Studios.
Although 96 years of age, Dad meets his only great-grandchild Emi. I think everyone was scared he was going to drop her. 2014.
My last picture of Dad, flanked by my two youngest kids, taken on his 99th birthday last month. Yes, he is smiling because he got to eat his favorite sweet, “Odango”. February 2018, Los Angeles.
And my last video of Dad:
Dad, I wish I were a much better son… but I know you are joyfully back playing “oninga” or jump-frog in front of your Hiroshima home with your favorite brother Suetaro. I hope you have all the odango you can eat now. You will be forever young.
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16 thoughts on “The Passing of Dad”
This is a loving and beautiful tribute Koji. I have no doubt that your father knows how much you value and cherish him.
I’m sorry for your loss. Your dad sounds like a wonderful man and I’m sure he know how much you obviously love him. Your tribute to him is beautiful and heartfelt put. Kia Kaha (stand strong) Nga Mihi Nui — with my best wishes
Thanks for writing this, Pop. It’s perfect.
Precious photos, precious memories. So sorry, Koji-san, an era passing, but thank goodness the stories saved. Rest in peace Ojiisan.
What a complex life he had to live! You honored your father well putting all of it together here, and I know, since I had tears at the end of reading it, that it had to have been a sorrowful yet somehow joyful task for you to do. I wish I could have met him.
How Excellent pics!!!:D
I like the most pic”~Although 96 y~ great-grandchild Emi. ~~everyone was scared he was going to drop her. ” !!!XD!!
Seeing these pics get along is heartwarming for me. 😀
Relatives , you look (very much) alike!!:D
Oh Koji, this is such an outstanding picture chronicle of your father!
(Okay, it’s time to get this eyelash out of my eye).
What a wonderful record you have made of your father’s life, Koji. He is really a symbol of the century, spanning the continents and the great changes of those years. Wonderful photos, every one.
What a beautiful presentation, Koji.
Koji, I am so glad you shared so many photos and reviewed some of the family history in sharing about your dad’s passing. What a remarkable man, and I mean that. He survived experiences that are hard to even imagine. How tremendous to have had this living example of resilience and endurance as a father, and to have had him in your life for so long. I’m sorry for your loss, although to be part of a loving family for 99 years is really amazing. Still, a goodbye is hard at any point. Thank you for sharing. I’m so glad I didn’t miss this!
Thank you for sharing.
Having arrived here, unplanned, by quite an indirect path–
“Lucky,” I suppose–having guided my mind to deeper thoughts of others – this Memorial Day.
Koji, I am so sorry for your loss. Your tribute to your dad is so loving, and filled with so much admiration and respect. Your family photos are treasures. Thank you for sharing your father’s and your family’s history through your precious photos. I actually spoke of your dad, earlier this year to my nieces, who were visiting, I was showing them some of my dad’s memorabilia and told them about your dad’s help in translating it and a little of his history that you had previously shared when we were in touch via flickr. I will always be grateful for your dad’s help. I will always appreciate the history of your dad and his/your family that you have shared. Ninety-nine years of a well-lived and well-loved life … rest in peace, Mr. Kanemoto.
Jeanne-Rene, what warm, lovely thoughts… I still think if your dad and his trials in the SW Pacific, so young a man. I hope you thoroughly shared your dad’s dedication to this country and helped steer their journey through life. God bless him…
Jeanne-Rene, did a producer from the History Channel call you? And is that why he called me?