Eighty years or so after he posed for a photo, my Grandfather Hisakichi is in an American book.
Standing “Marine-esque” in his Seattle barbershop.
Incredible to me.
_________________________________
I had come to know Rob Ketcherside from flickr. We had helped each other out looking at some old photos he had of Seattle – where all my aunts and uncles were born (except one). He had some fascinating tidbits on some of my Grandmother’s photos.
Well, it turned out he was an author. He had been doing a ton of research into “lost Seattle” – skylines and communities now long gone. With his fascination for “what was” (me, too!), those sights are now basking in sunlight once again through this mesmerizing book.
It was boosting to me when he asked if he could use one of the family’s vintage photos in his book; specifically, the photo of my grandfather’s barbershop. It is on loan to me from my cousin Masako (yes, the Masako after whom my blog is named) who luckily kept these family treasures all these years. It is more wonderful in that the home in which the photos were in survived the atomic blast – as did my family.
I hope Rob (and his publisher) don’t mind a couple of pages of his book are shown herein…and I’ll be picking up a few more copies to take back to Hiroshima in a few weeks.
In the description below, Rob also mentions Masahiro Furuya and his business. As it turns out, both my dad’s oldest brother Yutaka and his best friend John Tanaka worked for Furuya… And yes, that is the same John Tanaka my Aunt Shiz married. Small world, yes? Actually, Uncle Yutaka was the matchmaker.
A close up of his photo caption from above:
Grandfather is standing at the right-rear of his barbershop. And the photo is a full pager in Rob’s book! Cool! Grandfather should be pleased. In the original print, you can see the brand names of the hair tonics popular at that time. The gal in the middle was quite a cutie, too. I wonder what happened to her. If she was still there in Seattle when war broke out, it is likely she went to the same prison camp my dad and uncle were incarcerated in.
On an interesting note, the consensus is the calendar shows January 9, 1930.
In concert with Rob’s massive research effort, gone is my father’s precious Hotel Fujii and my grandfather’s pride and joy barber shop. It was demolished to make room for “Hing Hay Park” taking its place.
Grandfather Hisakichi holding Aunt Shiz in front of the barbershop. Circa 1918.Dad on right with his youngest brother Suetaro in front of the barbershop (circa 1922). They are likely standing where the label “Hing Hay Park” is on the map above. As readers know, Uncle Suetaro was killed as a Japanese soldier by the US Army on Leyte on July 15, 1945. Dad was imprisoned in Minidoka, ID at the time of his death.
Eighty years later.
My gosh.
And like the barbershop and Hotel Fujii, my dad is the last one standing out of seven siblings and two courageous grandparents.
Thanks, Masako-san and Rob.
I kinda wish my grandparents could have seen this.
The White House as it looked when President Adams occupied it. whitehousehistory.org
Mr. President, I take exception to your leadership. I feel it is flawed.
You are supposed to be MY president.
My fellow Mustang buddy’s president. He’s Black and has a doctorate. Oh. He’s married to a Middle Eastern lady – who screams while sitting shotgun in his grossly overpowered car.
My neighbor’s president. He’s Hispanic, an American citizen and is in the USAF (and who got his pay cut due to The (Dumb) Sequester.)
My blogging friend’s president. She is Irish with blazing red hair.
Yes, even #41 and #43’s president. They are Caucasian and BOTH served in the Armed Forces. Hell, #41 was shot down and lost his two crew members. Like Old Man Jack, even he must’ve had nightmares for the rest of his life.
You are the elected person to represent ALL of us…together.
But do you?
_________________________
Yes, I voted for the other guy. Glad that’s out in the open. Whew. Now hate me.
But all through your campaigns and years in office, you have made it a point to distinguish (imply?) yourself to be Black…and rarely or never infer that you are “White”.
How can that be, Mr. President? Your mother was White. Your father was Black.
To me, that’s 50%-50%.
President Obama’s parents
It’s simple math. The same simple math taught in school. Well, pardon me. Not too many folks recall seeing you in class.
Perhaps you ditched classes, Mr. President, just like my angelic oldest daughter..? But my oldest daughter got straight A’s. I’ll let you see her report card if you’ll show me your transcripts.
So I excuse you on your mathematical error.
________________________
Trayvon Martin died on February 26, 2012.
On March 23, 2012, you said on national TV:
“But my main message is to the parents of Trayvon Martin. If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon. And I think they are right to expect that all of us as Americans are going to take this with the seriousness it deserves, and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.” (Note: President Obama, the LOCAL authorities and DA DID get to the bottom of exactly what happened shortly after the shooting, right?)
After the verdict was read, you made another statement. On July 20, 2013, you said:
“When Trayvon Martin was first shot, I said that this could have been my son,” Obama said. “Another way of saying that is Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago.”
First speech mentioning Trayvon Martin.
_______________________
The Zimmerman/Martin fight took place in a smaller township called Sanford, FL. The local – LOCAL – authorities concluded there was not enough evidence to hold or charge Zimmerman under their STATE laws.
But alas… The MEDIA was a huge contributor. In my opinion, it was primarily CNN who started a fire where there should have been none. Day after day, they tried to “stir the pot”, as they say. RACE came into the limelight thanks to CNN fueling the self-grown fire.
Then Obama’s ill-advised comment… RACE again. He’s HALF-WHITE.
______________________
Race is one thing contributing to the deepening divide amongst our citizens.
In his first speech, he fueled the frenzy with those words, “…and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.”
Who is “we’re”? Him? The Feds? It fell under state and LOCAL jurisdiction. And the local law enforcement and DA – closest to the case and evidence – had closed its case.
Obama and CNN was pouring copious amounts of salt onto a festering wound.
By the way… How does CNN pick which murder to sensationalize? Why didn’t CNN sensationalize this more recent one – of four Blacks killing an unarmed White college student:
I am curious why you did not come out in front of our nation and say, “If I had a son, he’d look like Joshua Proutey.”
_____________________
In closing, how DARE Obama distinguish himself from me implying Trayvon Martin could have been his son – for whatever reason – in front of our country.
You are supposed to be MY president.
You are to lead us… represent all of us… and not imply “favoring” one race over another.
How do you bring this together instead of dividing it?
Simple. Like this:
THIS is how YOU should lead OUR country, Mr. Obama. (White House Archives)
___________________________
Face it. There are racists.
White people who hate other races. Blacks who hate other races. Asians who hate other races.
Lead us. Tell us citizens to quell this lunacy…and get off the minority soap box at the same time.
ps PLEASE PAY MY USAF BUDDY. HE IS IN HARM’S WAY AND WORKING TO PROTECT US. HE IS NOT HOLDING HIS HAND OUT LIKE 47 MILLION OTHERS ARE.
There. I wrote the words. After all, this is WordPress.
__________________________
It’s blasphemy.
Marge and Carol from the Greatest Generation would be so dismayed that I would be searching online for a gal. Marge met Mr. Johnson at a USO dance in WWII. Carol met Old Man Jack at his mom’s house in Eagle Rock during one of his two furloughs from warring on those “stinkin’ islands”. The commonality? They met face-to-face and it wasn’t at a bar. And it wasn’t at 2:30 AM before they were to ship out to war. (Clicking on the highlighted links will take you to one of their stories.)
____________________
Online dating began for me last month…I mean, online searching. Duh.
Dating comes later – if at all.
Unbelievable – an old fart like me is using the internet to “shop” for a lady. I’m now a (nearly) 60 year old rookie up against lady pros who reportedly have been picking and choosing “online” for their PERFECT man…for the last three years some of them write. Gee, think of the tricks they must have up their sleeves against old geezers like us.
Frightening…especially since they have the upper hand. A royal flush, ace high. Why is it that the woman always has the right to pick and choose and not the man?
____________________
The thought of online dating really repulsed me; it still does. A last resort for social misfits unsuitable for mainstream society, I thought. I also envisioned it as a “meat market” of sorts. You know, pick out the best side of beef by looking at your screen then bid on it. The highest bid wins and it is just that in substance.
Well, I haven’t learned enough during my years on this planet so I was ignorant enough to have tried it out…mostly because I knew I would likely end up in a “Why did I do that?” moment if you found your “soul mate” at a bar half-drunk out of your wits. That would also include her, too. The other reason was that I don’t like to mix with large crowds for one reason or another. So where would I meet my Disney princess of dreams, I thought?
Ergo, online dating. Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson must be shaking their heads at me from above.
___________________
A Marine amputee who has become a heart throb amongst women.
Well, this is what I’ve found out so far… and it’s my view only:
Because of “PC”, women do have the upper hand. Delete or reply. One sweetheart of a gal told me she gets over a hundred emails a day from interested men. Over a HUNDRED.
Nearly all of the women say on their “profile” that LOOKS are certainly “a plus” BUT they are “truly” looking for HONEST and loyal men…not players. However, nearly all of the ladies post photos of themselves taken years earlier or they are blurred. Many also understate their age – a few by ten years! Honesty starts with oneself, ladies. Practice what you are looking for. 🙂
Nearly all of the women – even little 5’1” Asian women – seek Caucasian men a bazillion feet tall and who look like this famous wounded Marine amputee and poster boy (above). Me? I’m but 5’7”. (Kinda like the actor who said, “Look! Zee plane! Zee plane!”)
Nearly all of the more “attractive” women expect to be taken to the Maldives, Paris, Sedona, sailing, a winter ski vacation in the Swiss Alps…on a regular basis. Well, you get the message. With me, they’ll be lucky to be taken to Chuck-e-Cheese.
Some women state in their profile their ideal man must earn over $150,000.
One story that was told to me was that one attractive woman told a man at their first meeting that she wants $3,000 month (starting now), a luxury car, and an $18,000 wedding ring for the opportunity to “date” her. You get the message on this one, too.
Nearly all of the women are of Christian/Catholic faith. I’m not. That’s understandable.
Nearly all of the women are divorced as well but their kids are now adults. I can’t blame any of them they don’t wish to live with a man with two teens even if get A’s and B’s… Well, most of the time. They’ve had their share of stress already.
Essence of online dating. I chose this picture as the corgi is a spittin’ image of my daughter’s corgi.
In essence, online dating isn’t working for me. Perhaps I’m more towards the Walmartian level than I choose to believe or many ladies are not including “Asian” in their search criteria. Tripped up at the starting gate even before the “race” started… Yes, that’s supposed to be a pun.
I even added a couple of links to some of my short stories here on WordPress. Perhaps six ladies actually went so far as to click on the links.
Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson were right in shaking their heads from above.
Oh. Forgot. If I did get an email from an “interested” female, they were likely from the Philippines or were most definitely specialists in “night activities” – call girls. That was how I got “conned” into purchasing membership to be honest. You were alerted “someone” was interested in you but you could only see them if you paid up. How fortunate for the internet site!
____________________
So in summary, if you, as a male my age is wanting to seek a lady via online dating, you will have great success if:
You are Caucasian;
You are a bazillion feet tall (i.e., a few feet taller than ‘Zee Plane’ dude);
Built like Superman and look like him (body suit and cape optional.);
You are a Powerball winner and will take your lady traipsing all over the globe (on your dime);
Earn over $150,000;
Are Christian/Catholic;
And your own kids do not live with you.
____________________
But in summary and in logical thought, online dating is very similar to what Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson did 70 years ago.
The only difference back then was the eligible lady is there in front of you. No fake profile pic or dishonesty of body type. You didn’t ask a gal to dance if she didn’t strike your fancy. And your chances for a girl increased exponentially if you were the varsity football team’s quarterback, had a hot car (I do) and moolah (I don’t). And Mr. Johnson cheated, by the way. He wore the dashing uniform of a United States Marine.
I took Mr. and Mrs. Johnnie Johnson to breakfast for a belated 66th wedding anniversary and 88th birthdays. Seal Beach, CA. August 14, 2011.
On the positive side, you don’t have to feel the rejection when the gal tells you “no” when asked to dance. They just don’t reply to your emails now.
___________________
Perhaps I should be dishonest and classify myself as Caucasian. Nah. That’s as bad as ladies using photos of themselves from 20 years ago.
Maybe I should realize I’m a Walmartian in the eyes of eligible women.
Or perhaps I should go back to the tried and true Japanese method that’s worked for centuries – contract (arranged) marriage, or お見合い. Just exchange pictures and you’re set. Both sets of grandparents met that way.
My grandparents on my mother’s side at their contract marriage.
Oh, dang. I did something similar to that the last time.
A precious little girl walks into a PetSmart store.
She asks with the sweetest little lisp between two missing teeth, “Excuthe me, mithter. Where do you keep the widdle wabbits?”
As the shopkeeper’s heart melts, he gets down on his knees so that he’s on her level and asks, “Do you want a widdle white wabbit, or a thoft and fuwwy, bwack wabbit, or maybe one like that cute widdle bwown wabbit over there?”
She, in turn, blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says, in a tiny quiet voice:
I was reminded of how wonderful our little neighborhood is this past Sunday morning.
No words necessary… Smiles on all of them. Brady, Jack, Jacob and Brooke.
I invited our neighbor’s two youngest kids out to have breakfast. We had such a nice time albeit much too brief.
Although Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson are no longer with us, the integrity of the neighborhood remains.
It is a neighborhood where I feel safe. And I feel the kids are safe.
They are safe because our street is filled with good people. Good parents. Good neighbors.
They even bring in our trash barrels if they get home first. It’s swell.
__________________________
But I marveled at how ALWAYS nice Jacob and Brady are with my kids…from when Jack and Brooke were born.
Jacob and Brady are growing up so fast. They are becoming young adults now and very busy. Yet, they find the time to play with my young kids.
Jacob is a super athlete. Heckuva sportsman and is heavily sought after by the high schools. Even now. His dad is a jock so he’s a chip off the ol’ block. (Don’t worry, dad. You’re not THAT old.)
And Brady… She already is a boy-killer…and a heckuva dancer. Smart one, too! (Don’t worry, mom. I won’t tell ANYONE I have taken over at least a hundred of my chocolate truffles. Funny Jake and Brady rarely tell me if they were good or not… ;))
But most of all, they are great kids.
July 2003July 2005September 2006September 2006August 2006August 2006August 2006March 2008
Jacob and Brady always take their dishes to the sink when they eat here. Brady even cleaned off my (DISGUSTING) rangetop when she watched Jack and Brooke so that I could have my “date” with a varsity cheerleader and old friend for my 40th high school reunion last month. I’m still on a high from that, by the way. Thanks, Brady!
I had Jacob clear this irritating climbing ivy “someone” planted in my backyard. It was climbing all over the place…and into my neighbor’s yard. There wasn’t one branch left after he finished. He even pulled out the roots. Problem no more. Thanks, Jacob!
__________________________
One other amazing piece of “togetherness”… There are eight kids between our two families with an amazing connection… The kids’ first letters in their names coincide – and in birth order, to boot! They are:
Robbie and Robyn
Taylor and Takeshi
Jacob and Jack, and lastly,
Brady and Brooke
And one last (and upcoming) connection… Robbie and Robyn are both getting married next year.
__________________________
Soon, Jacob and Brady will be seeking their own niches in life. While Jack and Brooke will be sad, at the same time, I know their hearts will be filled with happiness and gratefulness for all their love, care and fun afforded them throughout their first years of life.
So many things to be thankful for…and Jacob and Brady are two of them.
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.
In the past several years, as his dementia progresses, Dad is repeating many times how he broke his elbow as a young boy… “Many times” like as in every four minutes. No…every two.
I thought, “He doesn’t remember he ate like a horse ten minutes ago… How can he remember something that happened 80+ years ago?”
Well, I just HAD to find out about his story… and I did.
_______________________________
The story (which never varies) is/was he was playing “oninga”, or tag, with the neighborhood kids. “There was nothing else to do then,” he would tell me. They would end up in the yard of 正覚寺 – pronounced “Shoukakuji” – the Buddhist temple which is a hop, skip and a jump from his home. No wonder he excelled in the triple jump at Nichu.
You can see a tiled roof on the tallest structure to the right of him. That is 正覚寺.
The tiled roof of “Shoukakuji” can be seen behind and to the right of Dad in this 1948 photo. He is standing alongside his childhood home.
For those who like visuals:
Satellite view of home and Shoukakuji, 2012.
He would tell me (over and over) that while playing tag, “…I tried to get away so I jumped on this big round stone then leaped up to a branch on big a pine tree in front of 正覚寺.”
Now that I know he did the broad jump at Nichu, I thought this jumping thing was therefore plausible. (Did I mention I’m a writer for “Mythbusters”?)
“Trouble is, I jumped too far so my hands couldn’t grab onto the branch. I slipped off the branch then broke my elbow when I hit the ground”.
OK. So now, after “An Atomic Spark From a 1937 Yearbook“, I also know he excelled in the triple jump at Nichu. Plausible. (See… More proof I am a writer for “Mythbusters”.)
To this day, he cannot completely straighten out his right arm. It’s crooked. He now tells this story to my youngest kids, Jack and Brooke… Every four minutes.
______________________________________
On September 7, 2012, I had to know. Off to 正覚時… But unlike my agile father of the 1920’s, I was walking very gingerly. There were four humongous blisters on my toes from walking in Japan and (from being tricked into) climbing Mt. Misen on Miyajima.
The sign at the entry gate, or “mon”. Shoukakuji’s middle character is written with an old Japanese character.
Indeed, there was a Japanese pine tree, or “matsu”. A huge one. You couldn’t miss it as you walk through the “mon”, or gate. It was so huge, the temple had steel braces installed to help hold these majestic branches up.
Steel posts and braces were installed to help hold up these ancient branches.
Off the to right, was the base of the tree. A puny trunk in relation to the Goliath branches… It was hard to believe at first this small trunk was the heart for this proud tree.
Then… at the base… was a large round stone. Could it possibly be? Plausible as we don’t know how long the stone was there… Am I tough?
Masako and my son Takeshi stand next to the large round stone and pine tree made famous by my father some eighty-plus years ago.
But where’s the branch my father jumped for? Myth: Busted!… or so I thought.
Then we saw it. Above my son Takeshi in the picture. The base of a broken branch. It was at the right height! OK… Myth: Plausible.
Here is the branch that Dad supposedly leaped for 80+ years ago…but fell and broke his elbow.
But conclusive proof was just beyond reach. There was no evidence as to age of the tree or how long the stone was there…
Then, as if Aunt Shiz summoned him, the reverend of 正覚寺 came out…with his wife. He was about 90 years old. Almost as old as my dad but he still had his wits about him. Thank goodness.
He told us he didn’t know my father personally…but that he played with Suetaro and Mieko, Dad’s youngest brother and sister! He knew Suetaro well, he said. He listened to Suetaro blow on his flute from the house in the evenings.
My Japanese wasn’t good enough so Masako stepped in… She explained to the elderly reverend how my dad (her uncle) had jumped from a large round stone at the base of a pine tree here 80+ years ago and broke his elbow.
Masako is mimicking my father’s broken right elbow and his story while my son Takeshi and cousin Kiyoshi watch. Kiyoshi was pointing to the stone to supplement the story.
Unbelievably, the reverend said with pride, “The pine tree is about 400 years old…and that stone has been there for as long as I can remember. It hasn’t been moved, either.”
Then the wife said that a number of years ago, the branch had broken off but it was very long. Then after it broke off, “…a swarm of bees made a home inside. We had to seal the crack unfortunately,” to account for the mortar on the branch.
Was his story a myth? Busted? Plausible? Confirmed?
Myth: Confirmed.
Dad wasn’t imagining ANYTHING. His memory is intact from that time.
Although my Aunt Shiz passed away ten days before my son and I were to travel to her childhood home in Hiroshima, I believe it was her caring soul that made our journey eerily complete.
Time for heebie-jeebies.
______________________
L to R: Uncle Yutaka, Dad, Uncle Suetaro, Aunt Michie, Aunt Shiz, Great Grandmother Kame, Aunt Mieko and Grandmother Kono at the Hiroshima home. Circa 1928.
Like all but one of the siblings, Aunt Shiz was born in Seattle in 1916. My grandparents operated a barbershop as mentioned in “Masako and Spam Musubi“, the first story in this blog. In the picture below likely taken early in 1918, she is standing in front of her mother Kono at their barbershop in Hotel Fujii near King and Maynard in downtown Seattle. Grandma Kono is smiling while looking on; she appears to be holding a straight razor. My relatives tell me Grandma was great with the customers and gave excellent shaves. (If it is a straight edge razor, she’s holding it in her left hand. We have a number of lefties in our family. Hmmm.) Notice the wooden sidewalk:
Aunt Shiz standing out in front of the barbershop; her mother (my grandmother) Kono smiles while looking on. Kono is holding a straight razor; she apparently gave great shaves and the customers enjoyed her friendliness.
In this photo taken about five or six years later, the wooden sidewalk has been replaced with concrete. Aunt Shiz shows her friendly character while dancing on the left. You can make out “Fujii” on the sign hanging overhead in the background:
A happy and smiling Aunt Shiz dancing on the left. The barbershop’s poles can be seen behind her. Circa 1923 in downtown Seattle.
Masako tells me Aunt Shiz was the village “hottie” as she grew up back in those days. It made us laugh but it was true. Surely, she broke a lot of the young boys’ hearts in the village.
She returned to Seattle on April 7, 1935, a vibrant young lady. Amazingly (well, really not), her granddaughter looks very much like her at that age. Genes.
She married and had three boys and one girl. All but one were imprisoned during World War II. They had the dehumanizing horror of having to first stay in vacated horse stalls at the Santa Anita Racetrack in Los Angeles before being transported under armed guard in blacked out trains to Manzanar where they stayed until war’s end. They were American citizens. Incredible, isn’t it?
_______________________
Aunt Shiz, who was my dad’s older sister and last lving sibling, was a true “Kanemoto” as the saying goes. They were much alike…especially when they talked in their “Hiroshima dialect”. Funny they aren’t able to remember when their birthdays are but they sure remember their happy days as children in that Hiroshima home. Both loved to eat. And eat they did. Most of all, they loved sweets. Don’t ask why.
When I see Dad now, I always take him Japanese treats – mainly “manjyu” and “youkan”.
Typical Japanese sweet treat called “manjyu”. Aunt Shiz and Dad love them.Sweet Japanese treat made out of sweet beans, or “yokan”.
Last October, shortly after her 95th birthday, I took Dad to visit with Aunt Shiz. It is a long drive to and from. While Dad had great difficulty remembering why he was in my car – not just once but several times – there was no hesitation by either of them when they first got a glimpse of each other at Aunt Shiz’s senior home:
Yes, I took a bag of yokan. Its on the front right in the video in a cellophane bag. There were three different flavors, too. They ate them ALL. Really.
But they couldn’t remember who was older. Absolutely precious to our family.
At her funeral service in Los Angeles, her grandson described her perfectly as a very warm person. She loved to hug and give her young relatives a peck on the cheek. That was Aunt Shiz.
_____________________
But back to the story… Some heebie-jeebie stuff. You know… Stuff that gives you a year’s supply of chicken skin.
Our journey to Hiroshima was planned for months. My decision to do so was made after I met with Masako and the others in Hawaii in May and returned home…or so I thought I made that decision. It was as if something took over my thoughts and actions. It was kharma. I was also going to take my oldest son Takeshi (24 years old – very important. Remember that.) who had NEVER been out of the country.
As the time neared, our Hiroshima family was excited my son and I were going. Although those of us here in the States were unaware, in the extreme heat and humidity of Japan, my cousin Toshiro went deep into a 100 year old wooden shed which still exists in a last ditch effort to uncover past family information. He found it…about a thousand pictures from the late 1800’s through shortly after war’s end. That is where the photos of Aunt Shiz and the barbershop emerged from although all were damaged by mildew and insects. They were extremely elated and flabbergasted to have found these vintage family treasures still existing. They began to go through them in the main family room where their “butsudan”, or family altar was. The altar is also about a hundred years old.
A few days after they looked over the treasure, Aunt Shiz passed away quietly… She had fallen asleep in her wheelchair like she frequently did but this time, just didn’t wake up. Oddly, her daughter and my cousin Bessie, who diligently and energetically cared for her for many years, said “…she said she wasn’t that hungry that evening then just passed away”. Not having an appetitite is NOT Kanemoto. I will have to remember that.
_____________________
Bessie immediately notified the family in Hiroshima at which time Masako immediately said, “I saw Shiz in the room while we were looking at the pictures. She passed through the house.” We all got chicken skin when we heard that. Masako does not make things up and is as sharp as a tack at 78 years of age. She has all her wits about her. (That last trait is NOT typical Kanemoto, by the way.) We don’t doubt her.
Bessie suddenly requested I take some of her ashes back with me to the family home for interment. I was honored.
After my son and I arrived at the family home with Aunt Shiz, my cousin Toshiro immediately placed her ashes on the 100 year old altar…in the same room where Masako saw Aunt Shiz. Again, Masako said to us she saw Aunt Shiz in that room before she passed through the house. Creepies.
Toshiro placed Aunt Shiz’s ashes on the family altar. The room is basically the same as it was when Aunt Shiz lived here about 80 years earlier.
Shortly thereafter, my Hiroshima family surprised my son and I with the many, many vintage photos. Then to add to the heebie-jeebies, Toshiro remarked, “We know Masako saw Aunt Shiz’s spirit in this room shortly before she died while we were looking over our ancestors’ pictures. Aunt Shiz could have passed away two months ago or next year. But she knew you were coming and in her soul, she wanted to come home now with you. She arranged for all this to happen at this time. She is happy now.”
Wow. I felt like if a day’s worth of chicken skin out of Foster Farms was thrown on my arms. Really creepie-crawly.
_________________________
Not over yet… We had her official interment into the family crypt a few days later. My other cousin Kiyoshi – another kind hearted person and the man who invented the first EDM device – came with us to the family burial plot, or “ohaka”. The stone ohaka holds the ashes of my grandparents and their deceased children – including my Uncle Suetaro who was killed on Leyte in the Philippines during World War II as a soldier of the Japanese Imperial Army.
As my son was cleaning the ohaka prior to the interment, Kiyoshi said to my son and I, “Suetaro was 24 years old when he was killed. Now, your son is meeting Suetaro for the first time. Your son is 24 years old. It was all planned for by Aunt Shiz. She picked this time to come home and for Takeshi to be here and to meet Suetaro. It was meant to be this way. To help strengthen our ancestral family bonds although an ocean separates us.”
My 24 year old son bows deeply and reverently in front of the family crypt holding the ashes of Suetaro who was killed at 24 years of age. The ashes of Aunt Shiz can be seen in the small white box on top of the white cloth.
_________________________
He was right. Masako and Toshiro are right. Aunt Shiz picked this time to come home. She knew we were going. She decided Takeshi was to come. She made everything happen as they did. My son was very moved and affected by this coming together of family…so much so he cried at our farewell dinner.
Masako and Spam Musubi 