Category Archives: Friends

A 1937 Yearbook, the Atomic Bomb and Hiroshima


(Please see An Atomic Spark and a 1937 Yearbook and Dad Was in the Newspaper for background information.)

There is living proof of forgiveness from a few – and they let out a resounding message of world peace for us.

My son Takeshi, second cousin Izumi and my cousin Masako at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum.

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It was an extreme emotional experience – not just for my oldest son Takeshi and I but for the kind souls who joyfully spent their afternoons with us on a hot September day in Hiroshima.  I was able to finally meet – and thank – the people who were kind enough to seek out my father’s 1937 high school yearbook and thereby give my father a joyous remembrance of his most happiest days of youth in the sunset of his long life.

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Not being a writer, putting this experience into words is an endeavor.  But on September 6, 2012, we were able to meet in person Mr. Tsukamoto, Ms. Kanetou, Ms. Tanaka and Mr. Aramaki.

From left: Ms. Tanaka of the Hiroshima Chugoku Shimbun newspaper, myself, Ms. Kanetou who tracked down my dad’s 1937 yearbook, my cousins Izumi and Masako, Mr. Tsukamoto who first answered my blind email and set things into motion, Mr. Aramaki our guide and my son Takeshi. Messrs. Tsukamoto and Aramaki are survivors of the atomic bombing.

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Any guided tour is exceptional.  A personally guided tour of a peace memorial and museum of a man-made event of unparalleled violence cannot be surpassed. Both gentlemen were severely burned as young children.  With all doctors killed in the city, they had to resort to mashed yam salve to soothe their wounds. (To see a VERY well written piece on their atomic experiences translated into English, please feel free to read it here.)  Imagine doing that yourself as a youngster.

They first pointed out where my father’s beloved high school, Nichuu, was situated in relation to the hypocenter.  It is one thing to see it on your monitor.  It is another thing to see it on a large wall map.  Overwhelming.  I knew it was close but it was not much further than one of my father’s triple jumps in Track and Field.  It ceased to exist – as did over 320 of their young classmates.

Mr. Aratani points to the now vacant square lot that was once his school – and my father’s.

By destiny, both men – young children at that time being forced into laboring for Japan’s war effort – were saved by the decision of their instructor, Mr. Sekimoto.  Mr. Sekimoto decided it would be best for small group of them (which included another one of my relatives) to clear a large parade ground to the southeast (東練兵場) for the next crop of sweet potatoes.  The other classmates were sent to work on building a firebreak near Nichu – which sealed their fate.  They were erased from the face of this earth in a second.

Mr. Aratani and Mr. Tsukamoto point out the Eastern Parade Ground to my cousin Masako where they were to pull weeds that fateful morning. I subsequently learned another relative of mine, Hitoshi Kubo, was also with them. His burns were more severe.

Due to time, we journeyed outside with these two 81 year old gentlemen for further education.  However, without any inference of what was right or what was wrong 70 years ago, just a couple of images from within the Memorial Museum:

My son Takeshi, I believe, was very focused on the many displays. I believe the message of the Peace Museum was completely absorbed into his psyche.

Messrs. Tsukamoto and Aratani guided us to the Nichuu High School Memorial, emblazoned with the 321 fellow students who perished.  As did Mr. Tsukamoto on August 6th, 2012, I offered water; my son Takeshi also without any urging whatsoever left his precious water bottle on that hot and humid day which is a glorious gesture.  There is a reason for the water as will be explained shortly.

Mr. Aratani, Mr. Tsukamoto and myself offer water to the Memorial and a prayer for their young Nichuu classmates and souls.  321 of them.
My son leaves his water bottle for the young souls.

We journeyed towards the cenotaph.  On the way through a park, Mr. Tsukamoto began to cry.  I asked him what was wrong.  He replied, “Your father is very fortunate to have family that think of his well-being.  My soul is now filled with joy.”  We hugged each other under the shade of a tree and cried together.  As it turns out, his father died at a young age; he was never able to thank his father for raising him through a most horrible period.

We arrived at the cenotaph; the inscription was designed and written by Mr. Tsubokawa’s and Aratani’s good friend, Prof. Saika Tadayoshi.  In English, it says, “For to repeat the fault we shall cease for we shall not repeat the evil.”  It was purposely written with no subject.  It is for the reader to decide.  Mr. Tsukamoto subsequently sent this image of the actual manuscript of Prof. Tadayoshi written in calligraphy (brush and carbon ink).

From Mr. Tsukamoto.

The Atomic Dome can be seen perfectly centered through the arch.  He explained the “eternal flame” is not truly meant to be eternal.  It is to be extinguished when all nuclear weapons are abolished.

Cenotaph

Just beyond the cenotaph can be seen a pool of refreshing water.  The water symbolizes all the cries for water from the victims who survived the atomic blast.  Nearly all would perish.  Remember the water we poured on Nichu’s Memorial Stone?

We then walked to the actual hypocenter.  The atomic bomb exploded about 1,900 feet directly above.

The atomic bomb exploded directly above this spot.

There are several rivers flowing through Hiroshima.  We all know through books that the rivers were engorged with corpses and debris.  However, there are no photos in existence as it was when the city was destroyed.  There was no film let alone medical care.  However, before the US scientists came to measure radiation levels about two months later, a huge typhoon hit the devastated city.  While the rain tore through the rivers carrying the corpses out to sea, the rain also largely washed away radiation levels.  Therefore, when the US scientists did measure the radiation levels, it was tremendously lower than what it truly was.  You won’t find that written in any of our school history books.

This river was engorged with victims and were washed out to sea by a huge typhoon. There are no photos of this horrible scene as witnessed by our two survivors.

We returned from the very enlightening tour to join Masako, Izumi, Ms. Kanetou and Ms. Tanaka.  My father was bestowed with many kind gifts one of which was a compilation of years past of Nichu – including images of when dad’s class was digging the pool at the school in the early 30’s.  But lastly, as a small token of peace, fellow blogger Seapunk2 sent me some artistic pieces representing peace and serenity.  One was presented Ms. Kanetou.  I explained it to her that the artist said a sense of peace may be coming “…directly from her actions. You may feel the spirit contained within them.  (I) sat so long and quietly, collecting those tiny pieces, sometimes with tweezers. It’s a beautiful experience, to listen to the shore birds, seals, waves and take in the Pacific while I gather the otherwise unnoticed gifts from the earth and sea. Then, once I got the idea for containing them, that, too, was peaceful and gave me a lovely sense of satisfaction…”

Peace token from seapunk2!

Lastly, in a photo discovery made just a few hours before meeting them, I came across a photo of dad taken in 1937 soon after he arrived back in Seattle after spending ten years in Hiroshima and graduating from Nichu.  He’s sporting his Nichu varsity sweater.  The attendees were overjoyed to see Dad’s pride in Nichu – even across the ocean.

Dad in his pride and joy Nichu varsity sweater taken in Seattle, 1937. You can also see his bent right elbow. That is another discovery story.

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The men were burned severely as children working in a field for their country’s victory.  While their country lost, it was but a moment in their lifetime.  They still attained victory for the world.

More to come on one family, two countries and World War II.

LIFE and GENERATIONS – Backwards and Forward


Life can be fulfilling, emotional, filled with awe…and eerie.  All at once.  In ten short days.  In a country far away.

But life and its generations help you live it backwards and forward.

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Ten great days were spent in Tokyo and Hiroshima with my oldest son, Takeshi.  He is 24 years old.  We had never been on vacation together.  My loss.  I admit to being worried he was not going to enjoy himself.

There is so much to write about for family and friends but jet lag affects more than sleep.  There is a cavernous disconnect between my (normally minimally functioning) brain and my fingers.

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But during this trip…

My son enjoyed his time with my dad’s side of the family immensely – so much so he shed a few tears at a farewell dinner they threw for us.  He even found a new drinking buddy – my cousin’s intelligent and beautiful granddaughter, Yuu-chan:

My son Takeshi and Yuu-chan in Tokyo

With my cousin Toshio Nakano, we saw my father’s station he served in as part of the 8th US Army’s G-2, Military Intelligence Service in Yokohama; because I carried some photos of him in uniform inside, the Public Relations Officer escorted us to a view from the (unrestricted) roof:

Dad’s Army station while in the US 8th Army in Yokohama

Was able to meet my cousin Masako (78) once again and the family – and we were royally treated:

Great fun with family in Hiroshima

Took the cremated remains of my Aunt Shiz (95) for internment; she was my dad’s last living sibling.  He is now the last one:

Ceremony for Aunt Shiz

Saw the most beautiful parts of Japan:

Miyajima’s grand Tori’i

A most EMOTIONAL meeting with those responsible for finding my dad’s 1937 high school yearbook:

A most wonderful meeting of peace-loving people

And the most STARTLING and tear-jerking finds of generations past – including those of my father’s younger brother who was KIA as part of the Japanese Imperial Army:

Unbelievable family discoveries

I hope you’ll stay tuned until this old mind functions again.  Not that it ever did.  Thought it best to say that before someone did.

Laughter – Honest Laughter


I need a laugh today after some not-so-good things happening…

Where has this lovely kind of humor gone?  I yearn for the simpler, good ol’ days.  Don’t you?

Union Strike Averted


If you recall, I had hired the unemployed.  She was given the position of dishwasher.

The work she was to do was in complete accordance with the job description.  She was content.  She didn’t even want to clock out.

She was happy to be contributing to society once again.

Then the unthinkable happened.  She complained that no dry dog food be served on the dish to be washed.  She even complained on video.  It went viral.

She complained that the dry dog food disagreed with her schloppy tongue.

This ungrateful employee who was unemployed until she was hired filed a grievance.  A grievance with the Union.

It got ugly.  She made protest signs.

She made a bazillion protest signs and planted them surrounding the house.

She even staged work slow-downs.  Played on the job.  Dastardly.

She got into my face.  Up close and personal.  Pee-eww.  I almost gave in.

She got into my face.

I fought back.  Nothing but dry dog food was served.

After a few days, the strike was averted.  She eventually realized the wrong of her ways.  She no longer whimpers or makes videos of her grievances.

Success.  No harm.  More money in my pocket that has had a big hole.

At least she works in exchange for receiving something.

Bleu Cheese is Great in Its Own Whey


I know.

The title.  Lame.  I try.

But my Maytag bleu cheese salad is flavorful, colorful and with nice contrasting textures.  To die for if I have to say so myself.  Call me James Bond.

My Maytag bleu cheese salad. Notice the color provided by the PERFECTLY hard-boiled eggs. 🙂

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In the early 1990’s, there was a fabulous restaurant called “Stepps” in Downtown LA.  It was a great stop for business meals.

One of the most stellar dishes they had was their “Maytag bleu cheese salad”.  The bleu cheese exploded with its distinct flavor and the crunch from the toasted almond slivers was an excellent contrast.  Indeed, the presentation was like Disney’s “Wonderful World of Color”.

I had to figure out how to make it…even back then.  Not being educated in the culinary arts (OK…cooking – I just wanted to be fancy), it was one failure after another.

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But in the years leading up to today, it is perfected.  At least I think so.  Nobody complains except for my oldest daughter who doesn’t like bleu cheese…or mushrooms.

The key, I feel, is the bleu cheese.  There is a specific variety called “Maytag” bleu cheese.  You will be rewarded.  It is worth the trouble.

The ingredients are simple; no quantities are shown as you pros can figure it out.  Besides, everyone’s palates differ:

For the dressing:

  • Heavy cream
  • Crushed garlic
  • Vinegar (or lemon juice) to thicken
  • Mayo
  • Salt and black pepper (I use the Japanese version as it is such a fine powder and has a slight citrus-y taste to it)
  • Dash of Worcheshire (Is that spelled right?)
  • A dribble of olive oil

After whisking the above, toss romaine lettuce with the dressing and plate.

Throw on:

  • Toasted almond slivers
  • Chopped (perfectly) hard-boiled eggs
  • Maytag bleu cheese

Enjoy

The bright yellow from the eggs add great color to the salad. Be careful to not overboil the eggs. Nothing more unappealing than looking at the dark green stuff around the yolk on your beautiful salad – which I feel would add a touch of a sulphur taste or smell.

A Former Mechanic’s Almond Frangipane Tart


Well, this former mechanic got his greasy hands back into the kitchen.  No explosion, either.

Strawberry and Almond Frangipane Tart

Another Cathy Thomas Cooks recipe, it was relatively straight forward.  Didn’t need a wrench.  Please click on the link for the recipe (since people seem to be asking).

Small kitchen appliances are rather skimpy in my kitchen so I had to improvise – my coffee grinder in place of a food processor.

Didn’t have a food processor so I improvised… A guy’s perogative.

I did find the pie weights to be a great tool.  Lucky I had some in my toolbox…not.  Went out and bought a bag.  You know – a guy thing.  A tool for every job.

A close up… Sorry about the tin foil but I only had one plate.

One of my best pals passed away so I made his widow a tart for Mother’s Day.

For the single guys out there…  The gals at the office love it.

(Cathy Thomas has some neat recipes on her website, too!)

Peace


At this day and moment in 1945, the bomb exploded 1,900 feet above Hiroshima.

I earnestly pray for an even better tomorrow.

Threatened With a Strike


I have been threatened with a strike…by the unemployed individual I hired a few weeks back.  Dastardly.

She called a press conference and made sure the media was there to video it (above)…  She demanded BETTER pay – like no more dirty dishes with dry dog food.  She complained dry dog food unnecessarily dried out her schloppy tongue, her best feature.  And that digesting dry dog food attracts those tiny little buggers that make her itch.

I said, “Tough.  Be glad you have a job.”

Small time gaffe – until the media caught it.  Holy Blown Out of Proportion, Batman.

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She filed a complaint with her union rep.

Her union rep then emailed me.  The rep showed me images of what would happen first before they would call for a full-fledged strike.  She would ensure her dish washing work would be only partially completed thereby negatively affecting quality.  Customers will complain.

Work slow down threat – Image A
Work Slow Down Threat – Image B
Work Slow Down Threat – Image C

Ungrateful.  Dastardly.

WWII Military Intelligence Today


Dad is trying to read the name of the young man the Japanese war flag was signed for.  It is not as easy as you may think but the Japanese characters are not only written with a brush and charcoal ink, it is written in an artsy handwriting style.  Further, the characters used by pre-war Japan are largely not used anymore. (ps If you look hard enough, you can make out the bruising under his eye.)

World War II Military Intelligence techniques are still important and in use today – but for entirely different reasons.

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During the war in the Pacific, US military personnel were forbidden to keep notes or diaries in the event they were captured.  Nothing more disillusioning to be captured or killed, then have the enemy read about the ammo dump you just left from.  Especially for your buddies still stationed there.

On the other hand, Japanese soldiers were allowed to keep notes or diaries.  Apparently, the Japanese military saw the diaries similar to “water cooler gossip” at the office.

That was their downfall as Americans like my father translated such documents.  The Military Intelligence Service.  It was from these diaries that the Allies first began to see that the enemy were not the samurai of lore.

They had gripes of their commander – even by name.  They complained of starving, no ammunition, no water.  They also had uncensored letters from home – their families were starving, sick or had no home left for the soldier to come back to.

A mortar crewman wrote of how terrified they were to launch a mortar shell at the Marines as for every round they fired, the Marines would send ten back their way.

The MIS did their job faithfully back then on those hell hole islands.  Their job was to help kill the enemy.

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The flag.

Today, albeit in a roundabout way, MIS veterans like my father are still doing their job.

Last week, a representative of the “Japanese American Veterans Association (JAVA.org)” contacted me again to enlist the help of my father.  As mentioned in an earlier short story, Dad was a “kibei“, or an American of Japanese descent who got schooling in Japan.  He was fluent.  More so, he still is fluent in reading the pre-war Japanese writing.  There really aren’t that many left with this ability.  Dad is 93.

Unfortunately, Dad had a bad fall the day the request came in.  He fell flat on his face and shattered his glasses in the process.

Apparently, a gentleman had in his family’s possession a captured Japanese flag.  Presumably, someone in his family brought it back as a souvenir.  Of course, if an Allied soldier brought one home, it may have been removed from a corpse.  In the best case scenario, it was taken from a prisoner.  You just didn’t find them laying around on the battlefield.

Dad on Saturday enjoying a “youkan”, or sweet bean jelly. He has a pretty good sweet tooth.

According to the request, the owner of the flag stated he wanted to return it if possible to the family.  Not an easy task – even for “I Dream of Jeannie”.  These flags were created at the farewell party of a soldier who was going to be dispatched to the war and certain death.  There is usually the name of the person for whom the flag was presented.  If you are lucky, the flag may have a city or town written.  I’m sure my Uncle Suetaro received one.

Even for Dad, the complicating factor is not knowing how to read a Japanese character.  It is HOW it was written.  These were all signed by brush and charcoal ink.  The ink lasts forever since it is carbon.  But have you ever tried reading signatures?  Try your hand at this one:

You get the picture.

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Anyways, Dad – and while his glasses were shattered in the fall – was able to say the person for which the flag was signed was likely for a Mr. Tokio Miyake.  Unfortunately, there was no true town or city named specifically.  Nevertheless, we were able to make out what appears to be “Kurayoshi Mayor”, or the mayor of “Kurayoshi”.

Last night, I did a little reserch and almost unbelievably did find a town named Kurayoshi.  I tracked down the town’s website and sent a blind email (in my broken Japanese) to the mayor’s office and asked if there was a mayor named “Furuya” during the war.

We’ll see.

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While my Dad did not participate in the hostilities, his Nisei unit did their job and greatly shortened the war according to General MacArthur.  The Nisei’s job was a true secret weapon.

Hopefully, this no longer secret weapon can serve some peacetime good and bring two families to peace.

Oh.  That was Johnny Depp’s signature.  Thought you ladies may like that.

Tiramisu – Mechanic Style


My young years as a mechanic were some of the most fun in my life.

Working alongside veterans of the US Army’s most decorated unit, the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, made it so much better.  If you haven’t heard of that heroic combat team, you will be surprised.

Anyways, I didn’t do much cooking then.  Can’t figure out why I started either.  Old age.  Too many gasoline fumes, perhaps.

But one of my most requested deserts is my homemade Tiramisu.  Never mind gasoline fumes…  The rum fumes will disperse all the oxygen molecules and you will get high. Just kidding.  About getting high.

The only ingredient not shown here is VERY strong coffee.  Even Dean Martin would have diluted it.

Tiramisu ingredients. The bottle was empty, by the way.

And no mockery of my serving plates and dishes for I have none.  Remember, I am a former mechanic.

One batch finished for a party.

Another batch for a neighbor’s party…  Adult party.

Like my Pyrex?

I don’t recall any pecks on the cheek, though.  Hmmm.