At times, I mix in Memorial Day with it… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
They will always be veterans in my eyes.
____________________
Dad at Miyajima, Hiroshima in the spring of 1949. I now have a bad case of “tennis elbow” and can’t retouch:
He was part of the US 8th Army’s Military Intelligence Service and served during Occupied Japan. Being a “kibei”, he translated during the War Crimes trials, interrogated Japanese soldiers being released by Russia, Korea, Manchuria and China and translated Japanese war documents for intelligence.
Dad today with my two littlest kids:
Ninety-three years old.
Went to pay our respects to Old Man Jack. Sun was just too low in the sky for a good pic… 😦 Miss you, Jack.
And went to see good ol’ Bob, too… What a kind, great man he was.
November 6th – and the horrendous boulevard the public was forced to navigate – took a toll on me.
A form of depression, perhaps?
All the cheap shots. Stupid propositions to fatten someone’s pocket. Pot. Programs that cost millions – millions a state government doesn’t have.
And the bozos that led us onto the verge of fiscal collapse were re-elected. Criminy.
And of the most STUPIDEST state propositions that passed in “my” state was one that will make it ILLEGAL for porn actors to “do their work” without a prophylactic. A rubber. OK. I wrote it.
There are (I’m guessing) several hundred “adult” actors here. A law for several hundred actors. Geez-louise. For what purpose? No need to discuss that.
In a nutshell – with inference to the White House and Capital Hill as a whole – I am depressed about our country’s future. And of our brave souls in uniform stretched to their physical and mental limits protecting those same people with their lives. And what’s REALLY crappy about that is the “special elected officials” get a full salary and benefits for life while our soldiers, Marines, sailors and aircrews can’t even get proper medical care after they leave honorable service.
But there is nothing more depressing than finding only crumbs left in my bag of Lay’s BBQ potato chips.
Crumbs
Will a kind blogger set me up with a four year supply?
But you have to be obsessed…when time is working against you.
_____________________
A single page from my Grandmother’s precious photo album
Retouching faded or damaged family photographs can become a labor of love.
Perhaps the finished product is meaningless to people outside of your family. Maybe to some within your own family as well. But somehow, you become obsessed with it because in spite what others feel, you know in your heart it is important… and perhaps more important as the years roll by.
Family members come into this world, live, then pass on. How did they live? Where? What was it like “back then”?
That’s my mission. To leave hints of what it was like for my descendants as well as interested family.
To let others see what “they” looked like. How “they” smiled. How “they” grew up.
________________________
The first snapshot above is but a page from my Grandmother Kono’s photo album.
Brittle pages. Photos that were lovingly pasted onto those pages by my Grandmother. Photos now eaten by insects. Faded. Damaged.
Now is the time. Restore and retouch. Hundreds of them. That’s the mission. Before all knowledge of their lives disappear.
They are disappearing today.
________________________
Having but free software, the retouching being done is surely amateur. Basic at the best. I wish I could afford professional software but then again, there would be a tremendous learning curve. Make do with what you have…as “they” did.
And when you finish one photograph, you receive gifts. Gifts of seeing what would have been lost. Lost to their descendents forever.
Here is one example from that page:
(L to R) Suetaro, my dad, Aunt Shiz and an unknown friend. Circa 1923 at 620 S. King Street in Seattle, WA.
While the detail is surely not “lost”, it is hard to make out things. The print is small to begin with; a quarter was placed for size reference.
But after restoring and retouching, some fun things come into clearer view – especially if there is a companion print to compare with:
In another pose on the same album page, you can see both my dad and Suetaro were holding food in their hands and dad had a bandaged thumb. Here, after restoration, you can more clearly see the food but it blends into his bandaged thumb which would have been hard to separate. I’m pretty sure Dad is eating an “onigiri” or rice ball, likely wrapped in seaweed. Uncle Suetaro had already devoured his. Minor detail, yes. But now we have an idea of what Grandmother fed them in Seattle while growing up.
Aunt Shiz…well, it appears she would rather have been playing with her friend but we know she wore a uniform to school. And she has a hair clip. Berets for boys were in fashion, also, it seems. Funny as Dad doesn’t like to wear hats much. We also know that on that day, they wore very Western clothes…down to his overalls.
One barber pole is also different than the other. When dad saw this today, for some reason, he just proudly blurted out, “620 S. King Street”, and very happily. I think he was amazed at himself for remembering. But the confirmation of the address came from retouching the print. He also said, “That’s wood (referring to the sidewalk),” implying he doesn’t remember a wooden sidewalk. But I mentioned to him it was cement when you look at it carefully and he was happy that he wasn’t a “pumpkin head”.
From this retouched print, Dad also added one startling comment out of the blue. He said a number of “hakujin”, or Caucasians, came to the shop, even though it was in “Japanese Town”. I asked him why. His reply was, “I don’t know… but Japanese are more attentive, I guess, than the other barbers…especially in shaving.” I know what he means.
________________________
So all this “stuff” came from retouching a faded photo… Things that would have been otherwise lost. Face it. Dad isn’t the little boy eating that onigiri anymore. But he still eats like a horse. A good sign. Aunt Shiz didn’t feel like eating much the day she quietly passed away.
Yes. President Harding’s last photos in my grandmother’s album.
OMG. Leave it alone!
________________________
I found a copy of the actual event flyer from July 1923.
Now we can see an overview. See what the Bell Street Pier looked like when President Harding rode in his motorcade.
You can make out train tracks. Look at the far left – you can see the window locations on the building and…a pole. You can also see blackness under what appears to be a short bridge and a railing that abruptly ends. Important stuff.
The “PORT OF SEATTLE” with “BELL STREET PIER” signage can be signage can be seen at the far left.
Upon studying “Grandma’s” photos further and in comparison to the “press” photo (below), I feel BOTH were taken within seconds of each other – but from opposite side of the motorcade. Please note my scribbles:
“Grandma’s” on top, “press” below.
And note the following obervations:
Pole – also painted white at the bottom;
The prominent roof of a car (circled) parked along the pier and next to the pole;
The group of four men marked with the proverbial “X marks the spot(s)”;
The wooden railing in both of Grandma Kono’s photos; and,
The US Marine Corps on one side of the motorcade, the US Navy on the other.
Amazing. These are two rare images taken from different sides of President Harding and within seconds of each other.
BUT…….
With the flyer image, we now know train tracks ran along the pier. Trains are also visible in the press photo. There are MEN atop the rail cars.
Due to the angle, it is believed the photos in Grandma Kono’s album were taken from atop the rail cars. Off to the left just outside the field of view in the picture (just like the grassy knoll in the famous Zapruder film of JFK’s assassination).
Ergo, I cannot fathom Grandma Kono climbing atop a rail car…let alone in a dress as was customary at that time for ladies.
I used the same setup but with a telephoto. Rugged Canon F-1 with a 250 exposure back. Heap of moolah back then.
In the “old days”, we shot with 35mm cameras that used something called…film.
You loaded your own bulk film if you shot a lot.
You manipulated something called “ASA”.
You had to meter the light and set your shutter speed and f/stop.
There was no auto focus.
Me on the left with my motor driven Canon F-1 dangling from my shoulder. This was my mom and aunt’s war time refuge in the town of Fukui. At my relative’s home.
The cameras were made out of steel with metal gears – weighed a ton…especially if you carried an external motor drive with EIGHT AA batteries.
You developed your negatives at home – according to temperature.
Processing tanks. For 250 exposure lengths, I used a tub.
There was no “Photoshop”. You used an enlarger and “dodged” and “burned” your prints to make corrections.
You all have it easy now. Well, I guess me too.
________________________
Just for memory’s sake (and my ego), here are two of my award-winning sports shots from 1972. From one statewide photo contest. These are surviving test prints, i.e., boo-boo prints that had been stashed away by luck. 🙂
The final prints – from the best printing efforts – were mounted and submitted.
Available light (and lighting was poor, believe me). I didn’t use flash as I felt it distracted the players trying their best to win.
Exposed Tri-X at 2400 ASA and “cooked” the negatives in HC-110 replenisher. Brutal stuff.
I usually shot from the stands, rim level, for a different perspective.
You had to anticipate the play and pre-focus.
And some luck.
_______________________
1st Place
Recently scanned and unretouched. That’ll be cheating now, wouldn’t it?
Honorable Mention:
Ditto.
Not bad for not having taken photo classes. All self-taught.
OK.
My ego’s placated…and no criticisms from the pros who might be peeking.
I had a date last night…and she was a varsity high school cheerleader, no less. Any man’s dream as they say.
It was the most wonderful evening for me in close to two decades.
__________________________
Oh, her name is Mari Jo and very happily married. Darn. Double darn. Her loving Husband was kind enough to “lend” her to me for our 40th high school reunion. They both bought me my ticket to make sure I’d go to the reunion. How embarrassing for a man of old ways.
Mari Jo and I have been friends since six or seven years of age – from around (ahem) 1960 or so. We went to a great elementary school in the heart of East Los Angeles called 4th Street Elementary. It still stands. Brick auditorium, too.
She had a touch of freckles, blond hair with the slightest of curls and an infectious smile back then. More than 50 years later, she still does. Priceless.
True childhood friends. The best. No walls. No mask. Out in the open.
__________________________
Nearly all of us were pretty much in the same boat. Our families were trying to make ends meet. Since we knew no other lifestyle, we all looked upon each other for support. I see this in hindsight now.
Mari Jo is at the left on the third row. Me? Guess.
It seems as if mom stopped by for this “May Day” dance perhaps in 1966. Mari Jo can be seen being twirled around by another childhood friend Ralph – he’s the tallest one on the left.
Tall one on the left is Ralph. The cute blond girl he is twirling around is Mari Jo. The “Asian” in the middle… Well…
____________________________
We were all blessed to have stayed together through what we called junior high school back then. That school, too, is still standing. Junior high school would end up giving Mari Jo a lot of memories – both painful and happy. One of her proudest moments… I think she looks fabulous, don’t you?
Mari Jo was a “Tower Queen Dance” princess in 1969.
Mari Jo was cheerleading even in junior high. She is at the far right.
You know which one is Mari Jo by now…off to the right.
__________________________
In high school, our friendship continued. Mari Jo was a popular young lady. She was funny, outgoing and cared about others…and she was one of our varsity cheerleaders. Odd that bubbly Mari Jo would be one. Are you kidding me?
She is off to the far right – it is from a frame from one of my surviving negatives from back then.
Not a very good shot (I would crop later) but there’s Mari Jo on the far right cheering on our football team.
Did I mention she was a ham, too? She was one of my favorite candid photography subjects. I was apparently known as the guy who always had a camera hanging from my shoulder. While sports photography was where I exceled (with basic equipment), many of my photos ended up in the school newspaper or the yearbook. I had taken tens of thousands of photos, then developed the negatives at the house then printed them. And the friends I gave the prints to were happy… and that made me happy. The plumbing was never the same after all the processing and printing. That didn’t make my parents happy, I’m sure.
I treasured the negatives for decades…but about six years ago, my littlest firecracker Brooke decided to let the air out of an IMMENSE three tier inflatable pool full of water… but the darn wife had put the IMMENSE pool IN the garage (where my CAR should have been) so that the kids would not get dark from the sun. Why have an IMMENSE three tier pool bigger than Lake Erie if you don’t want your kids to get dark??
When my angelic Brooke pulled the plugs, the garage flooded – and all but one set of the high school negatives were ruined. The prints from those precious days that survived were also gone…including my most favorite one which was a double-exposure of Mari Jo immediately after losing the football league championship game in the final seconds.
A devasted Mari Jo – and school – sobbed after losing in the final seconds. Scanned from our yearbook. My most favorite photo of all.
_______________________________
I last saw Mari Jo later that year – 1972 – after graduation. She was moving to Las Vegas to get married.
While we had written a letter or two soon thereafter, for the next 37 years, I oft thought of Mari Jo (and of two other childhood friends, “Fritos” and Ralph)… What happened to her? Was she happy? I was so angry at myself for failing to stay in touch…
Then… I came across a lead. I sent off another blind email like I did for my dad’s high school yearbook; I guess that’s my MO… and she replied! OMFG.
_______________________________
We learned of each other’s paths since parting. But most of all, she was HAPPY. That was all that mattered to me. She is now happily married with two great kids…and a granddaughter!
But good ol’ Mari Jo… She knows of my life’s recent events and she – with her good husband’s encouragement – came to my rescue last night. If I can sum it up as best I can, she said basically you plan for life – but what happens is life. Life is but ambiguity and dwelling does no good… to move on.
Before we met, I kidded her my hands were sweaty and that I was nervous… like a certain escort she had one night when she was young. She called me poop head. Loved that. But I was nervous.
She snuck up on me and surprised the dickens out of me… and man, it was worth it. She looked stunning – gorgeous if I may say – but it was Mari Jo. That same infectious smile. From 4th Street School. In East LA.
_________________________
Speaking personally, I had the most grandest of times… It started with Mari Jo screaming – just a tad. After picking her up from her hotel, I did a burn out in my car. It was just a little scream, Husband. Really. Well, it was more a case of Mari Jo sinking her manicures into the ceiling.
Needless to say, she was the most ravishing one there… and she was my date! Thank you, Husband!
I felt so good, I did the cha-cha with her… Well, kinda. I had forgotten how to… but the song was “Suavecito”. An East LA favorite. My legs hurt this morning.
I won’t go into the reasons but the varsity cheerleaders and I overall had a special relationship – and four of the eight were there!
Three of the four cheerleaders there at the reunion.
Aren’t I a lucky old fart?
_______________________________
Thanks for rooting for me, Mari Jo. You blew in fresh air and helped rekindle a smothered flame.
Dad’s eyes got a teensy-weensy bit watery again today.
Perhaps its becoming a routine.
________________________________
Went to see Dad this morning. Took him his “bentou”, or Japanese lunch to-go, as a change of pace. They only serve America cuisine there.
Pork cutlet bento
Not that he complains. He doesn’t. But all the servers there know he WON’T eat fish. He makes sure of that.
Also took him “yokan”, “senbei”, “manjyuu”, and Morinaga caramel (his favorite from decades ago)… Oh. And “anpan”. Gotta feed his sweet tooth. Make him happy is all that matters now.
Another favorite of Dad’s – anpan
While he asked how “Sue-boh” is as usual (his favorite brother who was KIA), he – by coincidence – talked about how he broke his elbow again. 😉
But this time, I had the pictures I had taken last month with me! Blew his mind. He “kinda” remembered my son and I went to Japan, but he couldn’t comprehend how I got those pictures. Oh well. Anyways, the most important thing was that yes, that was the large stone he jumped from…but he asked, “Where’s the benjo? There was a benjo there behind the tree.” A “benjo” is kind of like an Japanese-style outhouse. 🙂 And that definitely was the (remnants of the) branch.
You should have seen his boyish smile.
I took along what vintage pages I dared to from Grandmother Kono’s album today. I was concerned as they were so fragile… but Dad handled them gingerly.
He said there was a butcher shop in the brick building in the background. That brick building at King and Maynard is still standing.
He particularly liked the photo of him, Mieko and Suetaro… He had a nice smile. I wonder what was going through his thoughts then but I wasn’t going to interrupt.
He is smiling while looking at the three of them. By the way, the stone bracelet he is wearing was from Masako and Izumi. He says he doesn’t take it off but doesn’t remember where it came from. 😉
I think his eyes got a bit watery.
He said, “That was a long time ago,” and “懐かしい”
Just a teensy-weensy bit.
______________________________
About an hour later, he remembered looking at the vintage pictures.
One of the finds from the 100 year old shed were photos from my Grandfather Hisakichi’s barbershop. It would appear these are from about 1917 through 1930.
His shop was in the Hotel Fujii at 620 South King Street in Seattle, WA. Being raised here in America, it is not only striking to see my grandparent’s barbershop but it is so unlike those of other barbershop photographs of that time being manned by “non-Caucasians”. Is that best way of putting it? You can see the hair tonics that were used as well as the Koch porcelain barber chairs. Through the help of my friends interested in WWII history, we believe the calendar indicates shows “Thursday, October 9, 1930”.
Grandfather Hisakichi is at right. Due to the blur, we are uncertain if the lady on the left is Grandmother Kono…but the gal in the center is very attractive.
In this picture below, a “no nonsense” Grandfather Hisakichi is holding my Aunt Shiz; this would put the photo as being taken in 1917.
According to my dad a couple of weeks ago, Grandfather would work the shop by himself during the slow times but would bring in others as the season changed. They lived upstairs in a room at the hotel.
It is difficult to imagine he supported the family with this one barber shop but you would think he worked hard and was a sound businessman in a foreign country.
Oh… Since WWI was raging, he registered for the draft.
It was there at Grandfather Hisakichi’s feet… a Coleman stove! My guess is circa 1920 up near a Mt. Rainier campground… It’s just so…unexpected to see a Japanese family of the early 1900’s with such an “American” icon. I hope I am not a rascist but I sure didn’t expect it.
Grandfather Hisakichi at the right. Unretouched.
And amateurish-ly (is that a word?) retouched with free software. I’m El Cheapo:
As retouched.
Grandmother Kono is not pictured but I wonder who snapped the photo.
There was a photo of Mt. Rainier dated August 1920 on another page in the deteriorating album kept by Grandmother Kono.
Unretouched.
It is remotely possible the man on the right is also Grandfather Hisakichi but I doubt it. I feel this was at a separate outing from the campsite photo.
Masako and Spam Musubi 